Giving Thanks-giving to an eroding holiday

We share in a unique and secular American holiday. Thanksgiving is a day where all of us join with family and friends in what seems to be the embodiment of what Norman Rockwell painted in his Freedom from Want as part of the Four Freedoms series – loved ones, and occasionally despised at some circumstances, gathered around a table to say grace if needs be, speak for their thankfulness and dig into a gut busting meal of turkey and all the sides. 

The time has passed where tradition was simpatico with Thanksgiving. Every year since I was a little boy my family and I gathered at my Grandparents house in Lake Forest. The taller we Grandchildren grew, the smaller the walls became and the more often we moseyed around that cramped space by the table in the basement to get another serving. With age my Grandmother became too tired to accomplish such a massive culinary undertaking. Even before my Grandfather passed away we shared the duties of Thanksgiving between my Mom and Dad’s house and my Aunt Carol and Uncle Terry’s. As we hopefully evolve in life, so do slight changes to tradition. The Thanksgiving I spent in Ireland was unique in many ways being away from family. I and other American friends wished to take some stateside tradition to Limerick and share with our foreign buddies. Around low tables we shared far too much wine, potatoes (in Ireland – get out!) and turkey, eventually falling into a coma of a slumber. 

This year I am spending Thanksgiving at Aunt Beverly’s house, Ally’s oldest aunt. The exchange is to spending Thanksgiving with her family and Christmas with mine.  Though as I have grown to become more of what my Department Chair at Harper called a ‘secular humanist’, even the religious insignificance to me of Christmas was replaced by the joy of the holiday season.

What I do not appreciate is creeping capitalism of what was once a religious Christmas making its way into the secular Thanksgiving. We as American’s have bought into the invasion of a national holiday created by President Roosevelt in 1943 to be shared by us all, not a specific group for their significant religious holidays. Why can Thanksgiving be usurped by early black Friday door busters of 8pm and 10pm at major chain stores nationwide? If Christmas was invaded in such a manner, would there be an uproar or silence with the knowledge “that’s the way things go!” I wonder if we spent as much time stimulating the mall and the corporate chain beast as we do with what are better paying jobs with lasting results in manufacturing, education and infrastructure, would we be the country that returns to the table instead of in lines at the wee hours of the morning? Values lay where we spend our money. There is no shame in buying that Smartphone or designer shirt but at what cost to tradition? 

I am thankful and fortunate for many things in my life and proactive for future endeavors as many of us are. This Thanksgiving as the tryptophan from that succulent dark and white turkey breast kicks in and mingles with the wine and cranberry sauce, I will sit back with an arm around a loved one, watching football and perhaps sneaking in a nap– a change, yes, but tradition remains. 

Freedom from Want - Norman Rockwell

 

Firkin the night away

When I lived up in Lake County, I had then, as I still do now, affection for the suburban town that has kept its downtown alive. I feel since the 1980’s that suburban towns across America have sold out their cheap farmland outside of their central hubs to invite in the football stadium sized parking lots of Walmart and grocery stores, only then to follow by the car accessible neon trans-fat put-you-in-an-early-grave fast food stops of McDonalds and Carl’s Jr. One could walk to those but there are not meant to be walked like a thriving downtown like Libertyville, where since I graduated high school in 1999, the town has added to its plethora of establishments and knocked down vacant lots. Once the legal drinking age found its way to my ID, I found myself frequenting Firkin, smack dab in the center of downtown Libertyville on Route 21. 

The word Firkin is lost on Americans, unless of course you are a brewer or beer aficionado steeped in lore. Meaning nine imperial gallons of beer, Firkin has a craft beer selection that puts any other bar I’ve ever sat at to shame. The bar itself, ever stool occupied and the crowd of others holding the appropriate beer glass, from tulip to stein, find themselves aware of butting into the tables and moving crowd. The place needs to be at least a yard wider. 

Behind the long oak bar on a Friday and you’ll find the balding but fully bearded Dave, a late-30’s gentleman of supreme beer knowledge and a general concern that you are not merely stimulated by the alcohol but that you leave going “I’ve got to find what I just had three of!” Confused on what to get? They’ll offer you a small sample or two from what’s on tap, which I don’t even think includes a major brand like Miller or Bud Light! Elitist you say? Damn straight, I nod, looking up to the twenty odd choices of brews written on the chalkboard next to the Victorian style mirrors above the bar. The ceiling is decorated for the seasons. 

Holiday style lights and extensive strings of silver foil dangle above diners heads. If you become a follower of small brewers in the Midwest like Emmett’s or Two Brothers, you’ll see their signs on the wall. 

Firkin’s food doesn’t live up to what I would consider a top three in my life bar. On my recent visit to Firkin on a Friday night with Ally, we shared a dinner with friends Beth and Katie, women who are in epicenter of teaching the youth of tomorrow and who get little credit for their talent that inspires even this college professor. The food is good, not great. The price doesn’t warrant shelling out $15-20 for a meal that should be $5 less considering some of the flavors and quality. I had the London broil fajitas with shitake and Portobello mushrooms. Though good, and me a bit of a food snob has to admit that I might have had better at Chevy’s. Ally’s fish was tasty but in too small of a portion. We had to pick us up some small BBQ treats at Real Urban BBQ in Vernon Hills before we went home. You know you are a BBQ addict when that the third time that week you had gone through their rotating doors. 

In all Firkin is a dining experience better fit for drinks and appetizers. Though the food doesn’t warrant being charged that much, and yes the drinks can add up, you’ll still have a better night out there than down the street at Mickey Finn’s or Morgan’s, unless you don’t care what your taste buds are telling you. In the times I have been with my brothers and friends to Firkin, I secretly wish we had the place to ourselves to sip drinks that have blown our minds. I savor the cherry flavored ale Kasteel Rouge, the fruity cider Zombie Killer, or a hearty micro-brew stout or the best mead on the planet - Iquilika – knowing that Firkin provided a good education. 

 http://firkinoflibertyville.com/