Thanksgiving

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Here’s to Auter

Each calendar year gives me three months to look forward to the most:  October, November, December.   I call it my “Auter” since it includes parts of autumn and winter.

There are three main reasons I love Auter:  the temperatures get cooler, the holiday season is in full swing, and strangers reveal their humanity.

Out here in too sunny Southern California where I have lived my entire life, sunshine and warm/hot temperatures are monotonous.  I like variety.

I live for the seven-day forecast that shows a daytime temperature in the 60’s and a low reading in the 30’s.  Those days, unfortunately are rare, as are rainy days.

I feel revitalized when the weather is cold during the day, brand new oxygen, clean and fresh.  On those few brisk days, I feel that I can finally write that book.

Have you ever noticed how as you grow older the holidays seem more precious due to how few you have left in front of you?

As a child, there was nothing better than Christmas morning.  Waking up to presents and eating a huge breakfast feast.  That was Christmas. 

However, as I’ve aged, it is the days leading up to any holiday that resonate with me more.  That excitement of what’s to come, the anticipation of putting up certain decorations, shopping at stores that have somehow remained open throughout your lifetime, visiting particular restaurants dressed up for the holidays—those are my favorite days now.

By the time Thanksgiving Day or Christmas Day arrives, it is anti-climatic.  As soon as I wake up on Christmas, I no longer want to hear another carol or eat another cookie.  It’s over.  Gone for another 365 days.

As December melts into January, I hold on to a profound yet naive hope that people are nicer, kinder, more decent. 

Stories abound about the generosity of people who give time or money to those less fortunate.  Secret Santas who hand out $100 bills to strangers.   Removing a paper ornament off a Christmas day with the name of a foster child who asks for a modest toy.  Maybe that driver who never stops at a stop sign will finally do so for the safety of the stray dog or the mother with a stroller.  Finally smiling at the grocery clerk you see all the time and letting her know how much her service means to you not just during the holidays but any old days.

The most confounded thing about Auter is how quickly the days go by.  Why can’t the triple-digit days fly by and the chestnuts-roasting-on-an-open-fire nights go on forever?

That is why I cherish these days and reflect on them when the August heat waves melt my mind.

As much as I can’t wait for the holiday season to return, I don’t really want January through September to go quickly because that would mean losing most of a year from one’s limited bank account of years, an account that no one knows the remaining balance.

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A Thanksgiving Pie a la Mad

Have you ever had one of those days which does not go as planned?

That happened to me the Wednesday before Thanksgiving.

My sister hosts our family’s get together and does most of the cooking.  My contribution is to bring pies (no, not made by me).

There used to be Marie Callender restaurants all over the place. Glendale, Burbank, and Toluca Lake all had one.  Now, the closest one is in Sherman Oaks.

When I called to buy my pies, I was told that there were two ways of ordering:  online or in person—not over the phone.

So, I filled out the online form, paid with a credit card, selected the time, 7:00 a.m., and waited until the 22nd.

It was a wonderful cruise on the 134 West that early in the morning since traffic was light.  I got there under 15 minutes.

When I walked up to the door, I was surprised to notice that it was locked.  Then I noticed the hours—it opened at 8:30 a.m.   Yet I was given a 7:00 a.m. option for pick-up.  Oh well.

I tried making the best of one and a half hours in Sherman Oaks by walking the neighborhood.  I was amazed at how many homeless people were sleeping on the sidewalk on Ventura Blvd.

I headed over to Gelson’s to have a cup of coffee.  Even though the day hadn’t gone as planned, I was trying to enjoy the adventure of it all.

In this market, tables and chairs are located immediately near the front entrance on the right, adjacent to the salad bar.

No one was around.  Soon, an older couple in their late 60’s sat down. The wife told the husband that she would set up the table with napkins while he went to get coffee and Danish.  I thought it pleasant the interplay between the two.  Maybe that could be my wife and I in a few years.

All of a sudden, the woman went over to the salad bar and deposited a scoopful of bacon bits into her hand and ate them.

I could not believe what I had just witnessed.   While I was the only person in the sitting area, there were Gelson employees around.  Surely one of them must have seen her do it.

The man came back with their food and beverages.  Then the woman returned to the salad bar and helped herself to another scoopful of bacon bits—free of charge.

Now my morning peacefulness was shattered with inner turmoil over what I should do about this woman’s thievery.   Locate the manager and tell him about it?   Confront the woman myself with something along the lines of “you shouldn’t do that”?

What amazed me was the brazenness of her actions more than the theft itself.   Even though I was two tables away and workers were close by, she still stole the food.

It wasn’t the first time I’ve seen people “graze” through the market.  You know those plastic containers which contain nuts and raisins with scoops inside?   There are people who put their naked hands in those areas and steal food, contaminating the rest of the contents.

Twice I have notified the managers about these incidents.   But this morning, a morning which already felt a little off the axis for me, I remained silent.

If only the strangeness of the day ended there, for when I returned at 8:30 a.m. to pick up my pies, the employee told me that since I had pre-paid, I would have to return at 11:00 a.m.  Meanwhile, there was another line at the counter with people who had not pre-paid for pies who were buying pies right off the shelf.

This time, I was not mute.   I asked for my money back unless I was able to get the pies.  After talking with her manager, the pies were no longer held hostage and I was able to leave Sherman Oaks by 8:40 a.m.

Next year, I plan on baking the pies.