Fake Thanksgiving News Uncovered By Native Americans (Updated)

William White

This will be the first Thanksgiving I’ll celebrate knowing that my 10th great-grandfather, William White, was a Mayflower passenger and signed the Mayflower Compact.  He died that first winter, so my 10Th great-grandmother was there for the first celebration.

There is a lot of fake news we learned in school that wasn’t accurate about that so-called “First Thanksgiving.”  Here is what I learned from the Wampanoag, the Indians who helped the Pilgrims.

“…most people do not know about the first Thanksgiving because the Wampanoag and Pilgrims did not sit down for a big turkey dinner and it was not an event that the Wampanoag knew about or were invited to in advance.” (Tim Turner, Cherokee, manager of Plimoth Plantation’s Wampanoag Homesite.)

The Pilgrims sent out four hunters in the morning who brought back an abundance of fowl (could have been turkey, but who knows).  Besides feasting, the men had target practice with their flintlocks.  The natives were alerted and set out to ensure the Pilgrims were not under attack.  That was when the Wampanoag invited or co-hosted themselves to the festivities.  Massasoit, the Chief, sent out a team who brought back five deer to add to the meal.  Fortunately, he did, because the number of Indians was two to three times the size of the settlers.

The food included venison, seafood, waterfowl (not to mention of turkey), maize bread, pumpkin (not pumpkin pie), and other squash.

The natives later did not look at Thanksgiving as a celebration, but as a day of mourning because of their treatment at the hands of the white man.

“At noon on every Thanksgiving Day, hundreds of Native people from around the country gather at Cole's Hill, which overlooks Plymouth Rock, for the National Day of Mourning. It is an annual tradition started in 1970 when Wampanoag Wamsutta (Frank) James was invited by the Commonwealth of Massachusetts to give a speech at an event celebrating the 350th anniversary of the Pilgrims’ arrival and then disinvited after the event organizers discovered his speech was one of outrage over the “atrocities” and “broken promises” his people endured.”

Frank James was supposed to address the crowd at the 350th anniversary of the Pilgrims' arrival, but the organizers learned what he would share from the Indian perspective. They canceled him.  The message he was supposed to give contained this statement:

“This action by Massasoit was perhaps our biggest mistake. We, the Wampanoag, welcomed you, the white man, with open arms, little knowing that it was the beginning of the end.”

 

I certainly understand their feelings, but I have learned that it’s best to not look back at all of the injustice done to us.  Letting go of the injustice in my life has freed me to enjoy life better.  Take, for example, my friend Donna.  She is Japanese American and was born in a relocation camp that the government were so kind to set up after telling them they had to leave their homes and businesses within six days.  These were American citizens who were unjustly treated.  Many of the Nisai Japanese were bitter over their plight.  Donna’s parents  tried to put a positive spin on things and make the best of the situation.  After their release, the family had to start over again.  They worked hard and were steller American citizens.  Donna and all of her siblings went to college, earned degrees, and had a career. 

As I was watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade, I saw a float made by the Wapanoag Indian tribe whose ancestors had to put up with the mistreatment of the white man at Plymoth.  The chiefs were smiling and waving at the crowd.  Apparently not all Wapenoag descendants view the Plymouth setters in the same way.  Some forgave and moved on.  This is not to say we should ignore injustice, but as time passes, we do ourselves a favor by forgiving and living a productive life.

Regardless of what historical view we have of Thanksgiving, the idea is for us to be grateful for what we have.  I know I am.

Jumping On A Manhole Cover

 This guy was walking down the sidewalk and heard someone counting.  He looked out in the street and this man was jumping up and down on a manhole cover. "319, 319," he said. 

"What are you doing?" he asked the man on the street.  

He replied, "Come here and take a look." He opened the cover and when the guy looked in, the other kicked him into the hole!  He then put the lid on and proceeded with his counting, "320, 320."

The post that got the most views on this blog received 319 views.  These views came from around the world, but mostly in the United States.  Would you please help me beat that record?  Here are a couple of things you can do:

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My hope was to have a weekly post, but I have had some physical challenges.  Your involvement with this blog will encourage me to push forward.

Thank you all, and I look forward to hearing from you!

Labor (Day)

 I know this sounds weird, but the first thing that pops into my head when I think of “Labor” is the birth of our first-born son. My wife was 9 months along but it seemed like 15 months! I heard some noises from the living room. Upon arrival, Linda was rolling on the couch making noises that sounded painful. I said, “Should I get ready to take you to the hospital?” “No,” she said. She insisted we had plenty of time since the pains didn’t come often. Well, with that kind of time I went out to mow the yard. When I got back, the pains were more often. I asked her if I had time to take a quick shower. “I’m sure you will.” Well, you know the rest. When I returned after the shower, the pains were just minutes apart! I tried to get her to the car, but every time the pain subsided, she kept saying, “Just let me rest a little. Then the next pain came! I wasn’t sure how I was going to get her to the car. We somehow did and our baby boy was born, but during the trip, she broke off the door handles in the car! (Not really, but she could have.)

Labor Day has been set aside to honor all American laborers and their contributions to our nation. Most of us may not consider the purpose, other than a three-day weekend and the proverbial cookout. Some of our families may have Labor Day traditions, like meeting at Uncle Frank’s house, a softball game, hiking, etc. It does provide us a needed pause, take a breather, and reset.

In the Old Testament, God gave man a pause, a Labor Day. Just as God took a rest from his creation job on the Sabbath, he told us that we need to do the same. When I was growing up in the Midwest, Sunday was that special day. Most businesses were closed, except waitresses and cooks who worked on Sunday to feed the after church crowd. We have bypassed Sunday and have it made like any other day. Now, nearly everything is open. Perhaps we would be better off if we reinstated Sunday, (or Saturday depending on your church), to take a pause.

And God rested from his labors, and it was good.

PS My wife pre-approved this post. 😄

THE GRANDDAUGHTER AFFECT

 

It is my granddaughter's 7^th birthday. Life will never be the same.

We had two boys of our own and a foster son. My mom had all boys. It seems the boy thing had gotten out of hand until Lucia was born. We were hoping for a girl. It turns out she is a girly girl, a princess. She loves dressing up, wearing fancy shoes, and dressing up her dolls. Her father plays in a Latin music band, so she knows how to move (cute now but later?). And she can sing!

I was always afraid to be the father of a girl. I wasn’t sure I could raise one very well, but life has a way of giving us lessons and would have provided a necessary lesson if needed.

She doesn’t necessarily cooperate. Rarely laughs at my jokes. She hears the punch line, then slaps her open palm to her head and declares, “Oh, Grandpa!” The rest of the family also has low opinions of my jokes. Where did I go wrong?

Her entry into our lives has truly been a blessing. In many ways, I have become her student. She has helped me loosen up and have fun, even at silly things. She helps me see beauty in simple things, like butterflies and flowers.

Jesus had a lot to say about children. He said we should follow their example. I know Jesus liked children. How many people, who are not fun, attract children? NONE. Jesus must have been a fun guy to have those kids flocking around them.

2 He called a little child to him and placed the child among them. 3 And he said: “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. 4Therefore, whoever takes the lowly position of this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. Matthew 19:2-4, NIV.

He doesn’t want us to be childish, but childlike.

What have you learned from your kids, grandkids? I encourage you to hit “reply” below and add to the discussion. Thanks for listening.

(c) 2022, Wally Johnston

Remember, there are only two kinds of people in this world, those who like Dr. Pepper and those who don’t.”

COMMUNITIES

 

There is a proverb made popular by Hillary Clinton’s book, IT TAKES A VILLIAGE. The original goes like this:

"It takes a village to raise a child" is a proverb that means that an entire community of people must provide for and interact positively with children for those children to experience and grow in a safe and healthy environment.

For thirty-five years, Nora has been the postmaster of Coldwell, when the USPS for thirty-five yeT The movie Colewell is described as "A lovely, quiet look at rural America and how Community is built. In this age of "Won't You Be My Neighbor?", Colewell delivers and shows us the neighborhood and the simple joys in everyday interactions at the local Post Office located in the home of Allen's character, Nora. The film asks and examines what happens when that local hub is threatened. It allows the viewer to watch as Nora struggles with the changes that are proposed as she examines how she came to be where she is today. Karen Allen gives an outstanding and honest performance.” (There is a link to this movie at the bottom of this post).

Another name for “village” is “community.” How many communities are you a member of? Community is comprised of:

• Schools are one place where children socialize. I’ll be heading back to my hometown to commemorate a big reunion (I won’t say how big). We are heading there because of the connections of the community we made many years ago.

• The church is a community we build lasting relationships and are united together for one purpose.

• Clubs, like Optimist, Rotary, Bridge, etc. are a community centered on an activity.

• Work is a place we spend a lot of time, so communities develop there.

• Neighbors can become some of the closest of communities. I have two friends who were at my wedding. We call each other, the “Three Amigos.”

• Spouses are a very important community we have. It may only involve two people, but this small group is often the most intimate.

• Coffee shops have become America’s living room. People take their laptops, phones, and books with opportunities to develop relationships and develop new ones.

• I’m sure you can name other communities.

Much like the older TV show, “Cheers,” this Boston bar became a community. Remember Norm walking in and everyone yells, “Norm.” They have their rituals. They always sit on their special stools at the bar, much like people in the church, exchanging a stool for a pew. We all need a place “...where everyone knows your name.” What communities know your name?

Lonely people don’t usually have much by way of communities. They become isolated and cut off. Sometimes it takes others to reach out to these people to begin to initiate community. Community building takes time. I can go into a coffee shop once or twice, and the regulars don’t know me. I have a neighbor who has a specialty blended drink, and when she walks into the door they start making it. She is called up by name, and her name is written on the cup.

So building communities takes time and some effort. The results are usually worth it.

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Please hit “comments” below to share about your communities and ideas on how to get them started. We would love to hear from you.

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Colewell, the movie: https://www.imdb.com/video/vi2803417881/?ref_=ext_shr_lnk HTTP://www.imdb.com/user/ur112090173/?ref_=tt_urver office, she must choose whether to relocate for a new position or face retirement in (Colewell. decides to close her office, she must choose whether to relocate for a new position or face retirement in Colewell. r thirty-five years, Nora has been the postmaster of Colewell, when the USPS decides to close her office, she must choose whether to relocate for a new position or face retirement in Colewell.

For thirty-five years, Nora has been the postmaster of Colewell, when the USPS decides to close her office, she must choose whether to relocate for a new position or face retirement in Colewell.

Spring: Rebirth, Rejuvenation, and Renewal

 

We live in the Willamette Valley in Oregon (Wil-lam-it; Or-e-gun). We know when Spring has arrived, our daffodils start coming up. Spring seems to offer new starts. Winter is gone, and some beautiful days are ahead. It’s my wife’s favorite season (and so is Christmas!). Personally, I like Fall. I love the cool breeze and the beautiful leaves on the trees. For me, Spring is a close second.

St. Valentine’s Day may be in February, but the old saying goes:

“In the Spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.” – Alfred, Lloyd Tennyson¹

Love, is indeed, in the air.

I imagine you have read the Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams. ² It chronicles the story of a stuffed rabbit's desire to become real through the love of his owner:

"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"

"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."

"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.

"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."

"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"

"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

There are some evil things going on in the world right now, but it’s good to know that love can conquer any of that.

There are various stories about Easter. Pictures come to mind like eggs (from bunnies?), candy, Easter baskets, etc. When I was a boy growing up in Indiana, my Mom would dress us up in our “Sunday finest.” We would pose for photos in front of our house flower bed. Little suits, ties, and Fedora hats. We looked so well behaved, but much of the time we would be underfoot so Mom would yell, “You kids go out and play in the street!” I know that sounds odd, but we lived on a dead-end street with little traffic. It was a safe place to kick bounce balls and throw footballs. We also had plenty of yard space. No one had fences then and one yard continued into another.

Spring. Though winters could be harsh, and we would receive lake effect snow off of Lake Michigan, the hope of Spring brought brighter days ahead.

Spring is a wonderful time in that God reminds us that life may seem gone, but only dormant. On that Resurrection Sunday we call Easter, the dormancy of death could not keep Jesus buried in a tomb. He broke out of there so he could always play with us in the street. And with that, demonstrated no evil can defeat His good, giving us hope that would never end. He is real, and his love is eternal, it never gets “loved-off.”

1https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45362/locksley-hall

2https://digital.library.upenn.edu/women/williams/rabbit/rabbit.html

Saint Patrick's Day...a Horse of a Different Color

We once lived in Santa Monica, CA. I served as an associate pastor of a church. We had a young Irishman visiting for a time, so I thought we would help him feel at home. We invited him to our apartment for a St. Patrick’s Day party. We had the place decked out with green and shamrocks. After our other guests were gone, he said, “You know I’m from Northern Ireland.” I replied, “Okay?” He continued, “The Northern Irish are Protestant, not Catholic. Our color is orange, not green.” I hadn’t realized there was a difference and embarrassingly apologized. He responded, “No need. I just appreciate you thinking of me.”

If you look at the Irish flag below, you will notice the two colors. The white unites them.

There is quite a history behind those colors. My ancestors were from Scotland and were forced to move to Northern Ireland under King Charles I. They had to pay high rents to their English landowners. They were persecuted in Southern Scotland and then again in Ireland. The Catholic Irish didn’t like this imposition, which led to hostilities. My family put up with this for a while but eventually moved to America around 1750/60.

To learn more about this, and enjoy some Irish music, etc. click on  [1] at the bottom.

 Here’s my take on St. Patrick’s Day. The Catholic St. Patrick came to convert the island hundreds of years before the Protestants showed up. He was the one to bring the light of the Gospel (Good News) to the Emerald Isle. I don’t think we should let symbols cause divisions.

Sometimes various groups try to change the meaning of symbols. One example is the Blue Line Flag, which symbolizes that law enforcement is the barrier between anarchy and citizenry. It also pays honor to fallen officers. Some groups tried to change the meaning of that flag with a false narrative symbolizing bigotry.

I say on this St. Patrick’s day, we are celebrating the Christian Saint who brought Christianity to Ireland. On March 17^th, he would be wearing green. Let’s join him.

 Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

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[1] All Things Orange and Green