Something fine
I just finished reading the most wonderful essay in the new issue of First Things. Called Dakota Thanksgiving by J. Bottum, it caught my attention because of my angst over where to spend Thanksgiving. What kept me reading was the author’s description of a childhood, not unlike my own and not unlike the childhood I hope for my children to have. He does bemoan the fact that he learned to do many things, but none particularly well. I think his parents did well - and I think he knows it, too.

The description of his memorization of The Raven, interspersed with instruction on fixing a toaster, is hysterical.

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December (First make sure the toaster is unplugged) and each separate dying ember (Now take a Phillip’s-head. A Phillip’s-Head. The one with the pointy cross on the end.) Eagerly I wished the morrow (Finally. Now turn the toaster over and look for the screws on the bottom), vainly I had sought to borrow.......

.....and not more than a little reminiscent of my boys memorizing parts of Macaulay’s Horatius, learning to rewire a lamp and cook a decent omelet.

I won’t spoil the surprise for any of you who get a chance to read it. (I don’t think you can find it on line yet. The net stuff is a month behind.) Suffice it to say, the author provides many warm laughs and then a twist of the knife at the end with a poignant description of the meaning of parenthood.