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Happy Hallothanksgivingmas by D. T. Krippene

November 13, 2021 by in category From a Cabin in the Woods by Members of Bethlehem Writers Group tagged as , , , , ,

In case you missed it, Halloween was the starting gun for blubber season. Nothing like ingesting bags of candy to get things rolling. If you were diet-conscious, bars of hyperactive-inducing sugar were available in “mini” sizes – an oxymoron if ever there was.  Local stores stocked shelves in August, but those who waited until the first of October to purchase might have been disappointed. Space was needed to make room for Christmas decorations. 

What happened to Thanksgiving?  People already have their Christmas trees up before the turkey is bought. When did it become the norm to play holiday music before we’ve had a chance to scrape egg off the front door because we left the lights off on Halloween? I feel as if all three holidays have been smooshed together, with Thanksgiving wedged between the others as a wannabe. 

Thanksgiving is the day we’re expected to watch a New York City parade with inane commentary and vintage cartoon characters nobody remembers. We see relatives that hadn’t graced our door for a year, then remember later why. It’s a sacred celebration where the arrangement of food on an individual plate becomes a science, and we gorge like our prehistoric forbearers when they felled a mammoth.  Would you like leg meat or trunk?  

Food offerings are as varied and quirky as our relatives. What is left on the plate when finished, like Aunt Mildred’s cranberry-scrapple gelatin mold, returns every year so everyone can hate it all over again.  The meal is often mid-day, to allow for slumbering digestion to the spa-like sounds of slamming athletic helmets on TV, followed by an encore visit to the kitchen.  Always lots of cranberry-scrapple gelatin left. 

I put some of the blame on conscientious health fanatics who chagrin our tendency for culinary excess. We live in a time of Paleo diets and CrossFit training.  Paleo is defined as what our prehistoric ancestors foraged before animal husbandry and agriculture, which to me, suggests anything that moved was fair game.  CrossFit is defined as a conditioning program that employs “constantly varied functional movements executed at high intensity across broad modal and time domains.” I’ve always thought of the annual gorge as a high-intensity workout, but since it doesn’t occur across broad time and modal domains, I’m guessing it doesn’t count. 

Maybe what we need is a different kind of Thanksgiving event that appeals to people like me whose exercise regimen consists of rolling out of bed. Let’s call it the Blubber Trot. Participants hop about with flabs of steel barely contained by Kevlar reinforced spandex. The first hundred finishers get to be first in line at the communal Horn-of-Plenty table. Those who don’t finish have to watch Hunger Games without popcorn. Paying spectators will be allowed to wander the leftover carnage and ask, “Are you going to eat that?”

As always, I’ll be flexing my Thanksgiving consumption with extreme prejudice. Once I’m done filling my gastrointestinal cistern with enough calories to heat a small city, I’ll need a solid concrete cap on that toxic well.  I’m going for the pumpkin cheesecake. 

Hats off to the intrepid writers immersed in NaNoWriMo. I hope your hard-working efforts don’t result in a take-out Thanksgiving meal or relegated to turkey sandwiches with a side order of cranberry sauce that retains the shape of the can it came in. 

Happy Hallothanksgivingmas to one and all. 

Anthologies with D. T. Krippene’s Stories

DT Krippene

A native of Wisconsin and Connecticut, DT Krippene deserted aspirations of being a biologist to live the corporate dream and raise a family. After six homes, a ten-year stint in Asia, and an imagination that never slept, his annoying muse refuses to be hobbled as a mere dream. Dan writes dystopia, paranormal, and science fiction. His current project is about a young man struggling to understand why he was born in a time when humans are unable to procreate and knocking on extinction’s door.

You can find DT on his website and his social media links.

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December 22, 2017 by in category Write From the Heart by Veronica Jorge tagged as , , ,

Tradition | Veronica Jorge | A Slice of Orange Holiday traditions; we all have them.

I usually initiate December by watching, The Bishop’s Wife, a 1948 black and white picture about an angel, Cary Grant, sent to help a Bishop, David Niven and his wife Loretta Young, with a cathedral project and a strained marriage.

Monty Woolley portrays my favorite character, Professor Wutheridge, who’s always on the verge of completing “the next greatest history of Rome since Gibbon.” The trouble is he can’t find anything new to write about. Time is passing by and whenever he walks by the local church cemetery, he feels likes he’s shopping for a new apartment. He despairs of ever finishing his magnum opus. Yet, scholarly and old as he is, it does not prevent his heart from believing that Grant is a real heavenly angel.

Another of my holiday traditions is reading Dickens’ A Christmas Carol, mostly for the uplifting sentiments that it addresses. One of the thoughts I find most touching in the film version with Alistair Sims is spoken by Mr. Fezziwig when he explains that he has spent a lifetime building up a business, not just for the money, but to preserve a way of life.

The 1996 movie, The Preacher’s Wife, a remake of the original The Bishop’s Wife, features a Christmas song performed by Whitney Houston, Who Would Imagine a King?. Written by Mervyn Warren and Hallerin Hilton Hill, the lyrics poetically relate Mary’s awe concerning the child entrusted into her care who would one day change the world.



Write from the Heart | Veronica Jorge | A Slice of OrangeWhen I measure my own life by these standards, I find that, like Professor Wutheridge, I too want to find something new to write about; to make some lasting contribution to the world of ideas, discoveries, and literature. But what can I say that has not yet been written? In what new way can I convey the world of the heart or express an eternal truth? And I realize that, like Mr. Fezziwig, preserving a way of living and thinking is important to me too.

I consider the Creator of the universe who made us in His image and likeness and I cling to the hope that the choices I make in living and in writing can make a difference in the world. Perhaps I may one day write a lasting novel that will become a tradition for readers. Better still, that my magnum opus will be the work-in-progress of a life well-lived that makes the world a better place because I am here.


See you next time on January 22nd.

Veronica Jorge

Manager, Educator, and former High School Social Studies teacher, Veronica credits her love of history to the potpourri of cultures that make up her own life and to her upbringing in diverse Brooklyn, New York.  Her genres of choice are Historical Fiction where she always makes new discoveries and Children’s Picture Books because there are so many wonderful worlds yet to be imagined and visited. She currently resides in Macungie, PA.



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