On Thankfullness

By LEON YOUNGBLOOD
Thanksgiving was established as a National holiday by Abraham Lincoln’s Thanksgiving Proclamation on October 3, 1863—the middle of the Civil War. The holiday was to be observed every year on the last Thursday in November (later changed to the 4th Thursday), and was intended to be a time to thank God for His blessings, but—what, pray tell, was there to be thankful for?

BRIAR CIRCLE

The North and South were engaged in the bloodiest conflict in American history. The notion of war had been somewhat romanticized during the early interactions, the first being the shelling of Fort Sumter by the Confederates, April 12, 1861. This formally started the war, though hostilities had been simmering for some time. Both sides thought it would end quickly; it didn’t. September 17, 1962 saw the bloodiest single day of the war at Antietam. The bloodiest battle was at Gettysburg, July 1-3, 1863. Then September 19-20, just 2 weeks before the Thanksgiving Proclamation, the 2nd bloodiest battle was fought at Chickamauga, Georgia. The outcome of the war was uncertain, but it was clear the bloodshed was a long way from ending. Some notable men had some “I told you so” moments, too, to express their thoughts:

Nathan Bedford Forrest stated simply, “War means fighting, and fighting means killing.”

Stonewall Jackson observed, “People who are anxious to bring on war don’t know what they are bargaining for; they don’t see all the horrors that must accompany such an event.” On another occasion, Stonewall said, “I have seen enough of it [war] to make me look upon it as the sum of all evil.”

William Tecumseh Sherman testified, “I am sick and tired of war. Its glory is all moonshine. It is only those who have neither fired a shot nor heard the shrieks and groans of the wounded who cry aloud for blood, for vengeance, for desolation. War is hell.”

All these sorts of quotes are well and good; but Ambrose Bierce hits the mark most closely with this excerpt from his short story, Chickamauga, when a child is reunited with his mother on the battlefield:

“There, conspicuous in the light of the conflagration, lay the dead body of a woman—the white face turned upward, the hands thrown out and clutched full of grass, the clothing deranged, the long dark hair in tangles and full of clotted blood. The greater part of the forehead was torn away, and from the jagged hole the brain protruded, overflowing the temple, a frothy mass of gray, crowned with clusters of crimson bubbles—the work of a shell.”
It’s like Sherman said—“War is hell.”

So again, what was Abe wanting to thank God for?

Like love and faith, thankfulness is not only an emotional reaction, it is a conscious act of will. Lincoln was a man of faith. “God cannot be for and against the same thing at the same time. In the present civil war, it is quite possible that God’s purpose is something different from the purpose of either party–and yet the human instrumentalities, working just as they do, are of the best adaptation to effect His purpose.”

In other words, whatever happened, Lincoln believed God was in control. He was thankful for that; we should be, too. We’ll look at this more next week.


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The $3,800 SUV

By LEON YOUNGBLOOD

A few months ago, a 78-year-old gentleman made a left-turn in front of me that resulted in a traffic accident.  In short, he had minor injuries, I had no injuries, my 2002 Dodge Dakota was totaled, he was 100% at fault, and his insurance company offered me $5300 for my truck’s carcass.  Personally. I felt the truck could be fixed; on their side, they did not think it was worth fixing.  They probably would have thought this if they had seen the truck before the wreck, too. Continue reading “The $3,800 SUV”

On to Thanksgiving

By LEON YOUNGBLOOD

Halloween 2023 will soon be behind us, and I guess there are persons who will miss it.  Maybe I was not paying attention, but it did not seem to be a big deal, this year.  The traditional terrors of the season—witches, ghosts, demons and the like—are not as highly esteemed as they used to be, and new terrors have replaced them.  These terrors are real, too, and are not going to go away with the trick-or-treaters at sunrise. Continue reading “On to Thanksgiving”

Spookathon

By LEON YOUNGBLOOD

“In the ‘Close Encounters of the Weird Kind’ department, the traditional Halloween spooks don’t have much of a chance, this year,” old man Red said.  “I mean, just look at it!  You’ve got ghosts, of course.  You can’t even sit down for ‘em!  There are ghost stories in the Old Testament, in Indian lore, in folklore, in every culture worldwide.  Have you ever been over to that bridge at Hontubby?  There’s supposed to be a ghost there.” Continue reading “Spookathon”

Assorted fears

By LEON YOUNGBLOOD

“Recreational fear” is marketed year-round, and I can only define the term with examples:  Do you like scary movies?  Horror, thrillers, suspense movies and the like are intended to give you a good but safe scare, and are good examples of recreational fear.  If you’ve ever plummeted from great heights on certain carnival rides and screamed along with fellow riders, you were experiencing recreational fear.  If you take a midnight walk because it’s scary in the Ouachita wilderness, the sensation created may be recreational fear, but it can instantly become non-recreational if you suddenly hear something bigger than you are growling.  Recreational fear is merely supposed to give you a good fright, but without damaging or lasting effects. Continue reading “Assorted fears”

Muscadines

By LEON YOUNGBLOOD

      Having had only negative experiences with wild grapes in my youth, I guess it’s understandable I’d not realize the merits of native muscadines—Vitis rotundifolia—all the years I’ve been at Briar Circle.  These muscadines are wild grapes that grow all over the place around the family’s wilderness property, but unfortunately, not on it.  They produce fruit that ripens mid-September and October on strong, disease-resistant vines, and they’re pretty tasty, if you are willing to settle only for their juice.  Otherwise, you’d need a tougher digestive system to handle the tough skins and seeds.  Bears, deer, feral hogs, birds and numerous other woodland creatures can handle them with no problems, and they are attracted by the fruit’s sweet flavor.  This is something to keep in mind, if you’re out hunting muscadines.  Something bigger than you may be hunting them too.

BRIAR CIRCLE

      Grapes are complicated things with over 60 species and 8,000 varieties.  There are 150 varieties of muscadine in the South, all of them coming from a common ancestor, the afore mentioned Vitis rotundifolia, but they do not grow in clusters like the ones you find at the supermarkets.  The fruits grow singularly, sort of like blackberries, and like blackberries, they’re black.

      Muscadine vines are strong and hardy, and prefer their soil slightly acidic.  They can get by with dappled sunlight, and are great climbers, which is why the best grapes are always just out of reach.  They do not care for cold weather, though.  Consequently, wild muscadines do well in southeastern Oklahoma, but do not care much for the rest of the state.

      Neighbor Larry has made plenty of muscadine jelly from this season’s harvest, and I can attest to its excellence.  The process was labor-intensive; Larry harvested the muscadines, washed them, cooked them, put them in sterilized Mason jars, and the end products are better than anything that comes off a store’s shelf.  To me, it is an impressive feat.

      Neighbor Kevin is making muscadine wine, and this will take more time than jams and jellies.  Kevin harvested five buckets of grapes, washed them, stewed them, added pounds of sugar and yeast to them, and the last time I saw them, they were fermenting in 5-gallon buckets in a designated space in his dining room.  Apparently, fermenting grapes need tending to all along, and it will be 2 or 3 months before the end product can be sampled and appraised.  We are looking forward to it, though.

      When I was a kid growing up down in Florida, my cousins and I could often be found playing under the scuppernong arbor in our grandparents’ back yard.  A scuppernong is a bronze-colored muscadine, more or less, and is treated like one.  Its skin is too tough to eat, but its juice is good, and I know homemade scuppernong wine was esteemed by many back in that day.  Homemade wine, jams and jellies were not uncommon, but now—well, it is odd to see these practices still going on 60 years later.  I’m glad they are, though.    


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Moonstruck

By LEON YOUNGBLOOD

If you did not get to see the “supermoon” rising this past week, you missed a blessing.  I was en route to the wilderness shack at Briar Circle much later than I like to drive, but the spectacular moonrise was compensation.  Neighbor Kevin called a couple times while I was on the road to make sure I was all right.  I was fine, and on the second call, I asked if had seen the special moon.  “I’ve never seen it so large!” I said.  “I think it’s the ‘supermoon’ we’ve been hearing about.” Continue reading “Moonstruck”