Our American Holiday

Since 1863, when it was announced by President Lincoln, Thanksgiving has been an official American holiday. It is uniquely American, almost as much as the 4th of July, and it has become all about families getting together and celebrating our common freedoms in this country.

He asked citizens to acknowledge “our national perverseness and disobedience” and thank God for “singular deliverances and blessings.”

Sometimes we forget how deeply religious and spiritual this proclamation was. It was to be a day of “Thanksgiving and Praise to our beneficent Father who dwelleth in the heavens.” Proclaimed during the violence and anguish of a national Civil War where thousands had already been killed and more thousands would die, it asked citizens to acknowledge “our national perverseness and disobedience” and thank God for “singular deliverances and blessings.”

The last sentence ended with hope for a better time: we “fervently implore the interposition of the Almighty Hand to heal the wounds of the nation and restore it as soon as may be consistent with the Divine purposes to the full enjoyment of peace, harmony, tranquility and Union.”

So, part of what makes Thanksgiving my favorite holiday, is that it has these noble and deeply-embedded aspirations. It has become a time when families gather to remember the fundamentals of the Nation they live in as well as just the pure joy of being a family.

In my view, it is also the most relaxed of any of our national celebrations. There is no gift-giving to worry about, it doesn’t really matter exactly what time Thanksgiving dinner will be, the shopping can wait until the next day, kids can go outside and toss a football or hike in the woods, adults can just hang out and wait for the football games to begin on TV or tune in to the Macy’s Day parade in New York.

The dinner in our family is always the same: turkey with stuffing, mashed potatoes, squash, cranberries, pumpkin pie for dessert and a tasty old family recipe that we call “green surprise” … a gelatin-based salad that has marshmallows mixed in. Why we don’t have this delicious cuisine more than once a year—I really don’t know. But, then, there is only one Thanksgiving Day.

At the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, there is a magnificent, imposing, marble sculpture created by Daniel Chester French where Honest Abe is seated in a chair with arms extended looking out over the country “for whom he saved the Union.” It is a powerful image. Around this time of year, I can almost visualize Lincoln gazing out at that same Nation saying: “I am pleased that we created Thanksgiving Day for the people of the country. It has become all that I could have hoped for, and it appears that they are remembering it well.”


Rolland Kidder

The Calming Effect of Water

We have lived on the lake now for over 20 years. It is still hard for me to describe what it is like, but the word “calming” may be best.

Of course, the lake is not always calm. Sometimes, when the winds come and are strong, the waves can wash out your dock. Water is not always your friend. Just ask a mountain where every day the effects of rain and erosion continue to sweep its soil and rock downhill.

“As the hart panteth after the water brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, O God.” 

Yet, human beings over the centuries have been drawn to the water. Allusions go back to Biblical times: “As the hart panteth after the water brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, O God.”  There is a yearning to be around water.

I recall many times on canoe trips in Canada trying to find campsites along the rapids of a river. The constant sound of the rush of water helped put you to sleep. It connected you to the earth; it was inspiring to see the white water rushing over the rocks.

I was fortunate in my life to have been appointed to a committee responsible for the site and design of the National World War II Memorial in Washington, D.C. Early on, it was clear that an effort would be made to include fountains and waterworks as a part of that Memorial. Today, a waterfall comes from the reflecting pool and fountains adorn the north and south entrances and those in the Rainbow Pool, which weren’t working, have been restored. You can stand in the plaza of that Memorial within a “stone’s throw” of the busy traffic of 17th Street, and hear no street noise… only the sound of fountains and falling water. It makes you want to be there.

The other morning, at dawn, I was sitting, looking out over the lake as I usually do. There was very little wind, but just enough to make small ripples across the entire surface. There was no boat traffic and so no interruption of the surface by a man-made wake … not even the smaller riffles made when a duck takes off from the water. It was just one, broad panorama of sameness with only slight movement and just enough relief to create a pallete of water which, if I were a painter, would have filled half a canvas. I thought that in the whole world, there was no place I would rather be.

It was one of the calmest moments I can remember.

I was in the Navy and I can still visualize the sea when it was violent and you had to hang on to bulkheads and rails as the ship pitched and rolled. But, my most vivid shipboard memory was one day steaming late in the afternoon off the coast of China on a glass sea when the ocean was absolutely calm, the sun was going down and on the horizon was one lone Chinese junk drifting with its ribbed sail outlined in the sunset. It was one of the calmest moments I can ever remember.

I grew up on a farm and did not see the lake much in those days. However, we had a creek to go to where the kids could go skinny dipping, or fish or search for crabs under the rocks. The water drew us there, and we never wanted to leave when it was time to go home.

So, my advice would be that if you have had a bad day, or even a mediocre day and want to unwind and “calm” yourself down … find some water, the medium that always seeks its own level. It will help you see the big picture, the beautiful picture, help you find your own level and make you grateful you are standing there looking at it and listening to it.


Rolland Kidder

This commentary appeared in the Post-Journal on November 23, 2019

The Nation's Park

Ever since I was a small kid, it has been engrained in me that of all our national parks, there is one that is our premier and most pristine park–Yellowstone. I visited it with my parents in my teens, we took our children there in the 1980s, and we just returned from visiting again in September. The place is unchanged. The wildlife, the geysers, hot springs and the Canyon and Falls of the Yellowstone River–remain, as they have always been, a place of monumental natural wonder.

Prior to going this time, I read some old histories including that of Hiram Chittenden, one of the early Superintendents of the Park. It was relatively late in our national life, after the Civil War, before a group of explorers, geologists and academics went into this untouched area and came back to Washington, D.C. recommending that it be preserved as a National Park. It was so established in 1872.

Think about that. Ulysses Grant was President, Wyoming was not yet a State, and there was no National Park Service! In an unprecedented move, Congress created an area larger than the States of Rhode Island and Delaware combined to be preserved in perpetuity for its natural wonder and beauty.

An area larger than the States of Rhode Island and Delaware combined to be preserved in perpetuity for its natural wonder and beauty.

For decades, since there was little federal presence in this part of the West, the Park was administered by the Army Corps of Engineers. As soon as the railroads discovered what a magnet this gem of real estate would become, they made attempts at extending their tracks and presence into this wilderness. The answer was “No!” and it is still “No!” You can make your way into the park only by two-lane road and from just five entrances. There is no development allowed within the park, with the exception of some lodging facilities owned by the National Park Service.

It is inexpensive to visit the park, but not cheap if you stay overnight in a hotel. There are also no neon signs or blinking lights advertising the next fast-food restaurant or big-box store. If you do stay over-night, don’t expect a fancy restaurant–you are more likely to find a cafeteria with a limited menu. It is also difficult to get Wi-Fi or cell phone service.

By design, the park is a preserve. It opens in May and closes in October. Since most of the terrain is 7,000 or 8,000 feet above sea level, Yellowstone has a short summer. Its roads are officially closed during the winter with the exception of specially equipped snow vehicles that operate between Mammoth Hot Springs and the lodge at Old Faithful.

The geology is young. The explosive caldera that the Park sits on produced, over the last 2 million years, most of what you see. In geologic time that is like yesterday. The continental divide runs across this high plateau. Some of its waters run east to the Missouri River and on to New Orleans via the Mississippi. The Snake River drains south and then West to the Columbia River and then to the Pacific. Within the Park you will find incredible white water and dramatic waterfalls. Yet, there are also beautiful, clear trout streams meandering through scrub brush and grassy meadows.

Traffic moves slowly. Lines build up when a bison herd crosses a roadway. An elk or antelope siting brings out cameras and binoculars. Don’t expect to rush through Yellowstone National Park.

There are not a lot of flags flying except at major Park installations. Yet, you feel patriotic and glad to be an American as you travel though Yellowstone. It makes you realize that the foresight and vision of earlier generations have made possible what you can still see today. 

Rolland Kidder 

 

The Mystique of Living Here

It is not easy to describe the “mystique” of living around here, but you know it when you see it.

I see it often in the morning when I pick up the paper at Hogan’s Hut and listen to the bevy of truck drivers, linemen, and construction hands talking as they purchase their morning coffee and breakfast sandwich. It isn’t deep intellectual conversation, but it is real–about the weather, the morning news, sports or what happened in their families over the week-end.

The talk is non-pretentious and friendly. It reflects the concerns of making a living and raising a family. No one is on a “high horse” trying to sell an opinion. The conversation is about the challenges and reflections of everyday life. It is part of what draws me to go down and buy the paper. How do you describe something like this?

You get glimpses of it at hunting camp. How can you describe sitting around in an old trailer or cabin trading “war stories” and talking about the big buck that you saw which is still out there? You sense it sitting in a sugar shack in the Spring watching sap boil. Sometimes, even when they are having a bad year, you get it in the optimism of Bill’s fans at a tailgate party.

There are times when I have attended an exceptionally good concert at the Civic Center, or seen a student production or sporting event at a local school when the feeling comes. It is often present when you sit down with friends of many years over a glass of wine and reminisce about old times.

It is hard to describe but there is a love for this place and this community which is really difficult to explain in just rational terms.

My brother recently related an experience to me illustrating this. He had gone to a “celebration of life” event for a friend of ours who had been tragically killed in a truck accident. This man had been in the trucking business his whole life and had obviously made a lot of friends. The celebration began at the shop where he had worked from for most of his life, and ended at the volunteer fire department where he had been a long-time member and leader. A dozen or more road tractors (the kind which make-up 18 wheelers) showed up for the parade. Fire trucks joined in. There were also a number of Harley’s ridden by friends. This man had made a positive impact in the lives of many people, and this was their way of saying “thanks.”

How do you explain the power and meaning of something like this unless you live around here? It would be hard to explain to someone living in Manhattan or L.A. But, you know it when you see it. There is a mystique, a mystery, a meaning to all of this. If you live here, you know what I mean.

So, all of this to say that I am not moving anyplace else. How could there be a better place to live? I can’t always explain it, but I know it when I see it.

Rolland Kidder

is a Stow resident.