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SEVENTY FIVE ✖ VOICE & SPAM
[Hey Barge, you know what you were in the mood for?
I hope you said a history/Earth culture lesson, because that's what you're about to get.]
As I'm sure a good portion of you are aware, tomorrow is the fourth Thursday of November, which means some of us will be either celebrating or thinking of past celebrations of Thanksgiving.
[Stick with him, he'll explain for people who have never heard of this before.]
There's an interesting amount of misleading assumptions surrounding the tradition of Thanksgiving. For those of you who aren't familiar with it, [There are, after all, a lot of people who don't come from Earth as he knows it, and a decent amount of those weren't here last year.] it's a holiday that traditionally commemorates the celebration of a good harvest held by early English settlers and the native American Indians in 1621.
There's a popularly stated "fact" that Thanksgiving as many of us know it was first "invented" by the 16th President of the United States - Abraham Lincoln - after a woman wrote to him insisting that the feast between the English and American Indians be remembered with a national holiday, but in reality, people across the country had been and were celebrating long before he declared it a federal holiday in 1863. Several presidents before him - including George Washington and John Adams, the first and second president respectively - had declared a national day of thanksgiving, and the Continental Congress had done so before the United States had been officially separated from Great Britain. There's even well documented evidence that days of thanksgiving - which could include feasting - were held in Jamestown, the first permanent English settlement in America, years before the "first" thanksgiving was held in 1621.
I'd also like to point out that - to the best of what I can determine with the help of the library on board - that while tomorrow is Thanksgiving, tonight is the first night of Hanukkah. Jewish holidays rotate throughout the Julian calendar year because the Jewish calendar is lunar-solar, unlike the Muslim calendar which is almost entirely lunar, and the Christian calendar is almost entirely solar. I won't get into the math - I've probably already bored you all enough as is - but between that and the fact that the Jewish calendar doesn't account for a solar year being 365.25 days long instead of 365, this means that this particular combination won't happen again for several thousand years. Fascinating, isn't it?
[He is being 120% serious, don't hate.]
[Spam for Erik]
[It isn't until he's effectivelybroken into invited himself over to Erik's and gotten things set up that he's starting to think "This is potentially/probably a terrible idea."
He hadn't wanted to make a fuss about it last year, mostly because he hadn't really known what his friend's thoughts would be regarding whether or not he wanted to revisit this part of his history, and there's a part of him that's wondering - the anxious part that's pretty sure this is hugely overstepping his boundaries, which is saying something - if he should have done the same thing this year, wait to see what Erik wants to do and not mention it until he does.
But...
Maybe it's just because Raven's here now, and things between them are better (hopefully) than they had been, and he's found himself thinking a lot about how much of an effort he'd made when they were younger to make sure that Raven had a good Christmas and birthday, and anything else he could manage. It wasn't her fault that their mother hadn't really known what to do with two young kids, and he just wanted her to be happy, and to have some good memories of what it's like to have a family who cares, who wants you to know you're loved. And it's not like you need holidays to do that, but it's a good excuse to do something like this.
So he's gone a little all out with this. He even cooked!which is why he's got a bandaid or two on his hands don't judge oil is a pain in the ass okay, and he's gotten his hands on candles and the hanukkiah. There are also eight wrapped presents carefully hidden behind the couch (and for the curious, the hidden wrapped presents are a sweater, a stainless steel wallet, a boxed set of Harry Potter books, a decent coffeemaker, shark slippers, whiskey stones, a ferrofluid magnetic display, and a purple slanket, OPEN THAT ONE FIRST!!), and another that he's debating hiding with them, or somewhere else, or just scrapping the whole thing, because this could be a total disaster.
Which is why he's nervously rubbing the palms of his hands on his pants with the ninth present tucked under his arm and wondering how much time he has to dismantle everything without getting caught when the doorknob turns, which makes him startle and stare at it like a cat who's been caught next to the remains of a shattered vase.
Hello. c:]
I hope you said a history/Earth culture lesson, because that's what you're about to get.]
As I'm sure a good portion of you are aware, tomorrow is the fourth Thursday of November, which means some of us will be either celebrating or thinking of past celebrations of Thanksgiving.
[Stick with him, he'll explain for people who have never heard of this before.]
There's an interesting amount of misleading assumptions surrounding the tradition of Thanksgiving. For those of you who aren't familiar with it, [There are, after all, a lot of people who don't come from Earth as he knows it, and a decent amount of those weren't here last year.] it's a holiday that traditionally commemorates the celebration of a good harvest held by early English settlers and the native American Indians in 1621.
There's a popularly stated "fact" that Thanksgiving as many of us know it was first "invented" by the 16th President of the United States - Abraham Lincoln - after a woman wrote to him insisting that the feast between the English and American Indians be remembered with a national holiday, but in reality, people across the country had been and were celebrating long before he declared it a federal holiday in 1863. Several presidents before him - including George Washington and John Adams, the first and second president respectively - had declared a national day of thanksgiving, and the Continental Congress had done so before the United States had been officially separated from Great Britain. There's even well documented evidence that days of thanksgiving - which could include feasting - were held in Jamestown, the first permanent English settlement in America, years before the "first" thanksgiving was held in 1621.
I'd also like to point out that - to the best of what I can determine with the help of the library on board - that while tomorrow is Thanksgiving, tonight is the first night of Hanukkah. Jewish holidays rotate throughout the Julian calendar year because the Jewish calendar is lunar-solar, unlike the Muslim calendar which is almost entirely lunar, and the Christian calendar is almost entirely solar. I won't get into the math - I've probably already bored you all enough as is - but between that and the fact that the Jewish calendar doesn't account for a solar year being 365.25 days long instead of 365, this means that this particular combination won't happen again for several thousand years. Fascinating, isn't it?
[He is being 120% serious, don't hate.]
[Spam for Erik]
[It isn't until he's effectively
He hadn't wanted to make a fuss about it last year, mostly because he hadn't really known what his friend's thoughts would be regarding whether or not he wanted to revisit this part of his history, and there's a part of him that's wondering - the anxious part that's pretty sure this is hugely overstepping his boundaries, which is saying something - if he should have done the same thing this year, wait to see what Erik wants to do and not mention it until he does.
But...
Maybe it's just because Raven's here now, and things between them are better (hopefully) than they had been, and he's found himself thinking a lot about how much of an effort he'd made when they were younger to make sure that Raven had a good Christmas and birthday, and anything else he could manage. It wasn't her fault that their mother hadn't really known what to do with two young kids, and he just wanted her to be happy, and to have some good memories of what it's like to have a family who cares, who wants you to know you're loved. And it's not like you need holidays to do that, but it's a good excuse to do something like this.
So he's gone a little all out with this. He even cooked!
Which is why he's nervously rubbing the palms of his hands on his pants with the ninth present tucked under his arm and wondering how much time he has to dismantle everything without getting caught when the doorknob turns, which makes him startle and stare at it like a cat who's been caught next to the remains of a shattered vase.
Hello. c:]
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Doesn't sound too bad.
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It's not a very important holiday in the Jewish calendar, but it has an interesting history and has become more popular because it usually falls fairly close to Christmas.
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What? The Greeks had an empire with who? [He's so lost. Almost none of that made any sense.]
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What's that?
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spam;
Also: what is happening here.
Also: help how do feelings.
Additionally: what.
Erik halts in the doorway, eyes moving over Charles - who, alone, wouldn't be reason to pause, but his nervous stature is unsettling to say the least - the hanukkiah, the candles, and the smell of fried potatoes. For a long moment he says nothing; even his mind is a blank, a long pause between seeing and understanding.
When it passes, he finally closes the door slowly behind him, a frown pulling at the corners of his mouth, the space between his eyes.]
Did you cook? [There is wariness in his voice. Why did he cook.]
spam;
[Some of them might be extra crispy. :v Watch him try to avoid fiddling with the bandaids as he glances around the room to survey his work.]
I'm sorry, I might have gotten a bit... out of hand.
[Don't look behind the couch. :|]
spam;
I didn't realize you enjoyed Chanukah so much. [He sniffs, turning to suss out the source.]
Latkes? [His eyebrows climb; he's surprised. Charles has a tendency to do that.] You made latkes.
spam;
Yes, I did. [And he actually sounds a little bit proud, a little more like his usual, not awkward self when he says it, because God damn it, he did it and they're edible.] I'm sorry, I know this is really, incredibly presumptuous, I can just- pack this all up. If you want.
[Although your room is probably going to reek of potatoes for a while. :V]
spam;
(Possibly because Charles sweating is just a little funny.)]
Charles, you're in my room the better part of any given day. I wouldn't call this presumptuous.
spam;
But okay, it is pretty funny, and he relaxes almost immediately when Erik finally does weigh in on what's happening. He even laughs a little.] Well, I'd say this is a bit presumptuous. How are they?
spam;
[He places the other half in his mouth and nudges the plate over before wiping his hand and heading for the menorah. It's a vauge reminder of Toshiko - something mean and a little petty in him thinks it was the only decent thing she did for him - but it's not terrible.
He wanted to see her get up and walk, after all.
Picking up the candles, he selects two, setting the shamas in the center, and the other on the right hand side.]
You know, I think I remember some of the prayer.
spam;
He perks up with interest when Erik mentions that he remembers, because he remembers last year, and before that when he'd found the memory of Erik and his mother lighting candles for the Sabbath, and how Erik hadn't known he'd still had that to look back on and take comfort from.]
You do?
spam;
Do you have a match?
spam;
Here.
spam;
[He strikes it easily - some things you learn early and never forget - and and brings the light to the center candle, watching the shamas flair before shaking the match out and discarding it. Then, carefully, he lifts the shamas out - and though it's slow, he finds the melody, and the words.]
Baruch atah Adonai, eloheinu melech ha'olam, asher kidshanu b'mitzvotav, v'tzivanu, l'hadlik ner, shel chanukah.
spam;
He's probably always going to have moments like this, of being sort of shocked and definitely appreciative that he has a family and that they all can help each other overcome the pain of the past by ensuring that the future would bring support and comfort and love from them, even if bad things would still happen in turn.]
That was beautiful, Erik.
spam;
With the candle lit, he resettles the shamas, looking down at the hanukkiah for a long moment before turning and rubbing his hands together.]
Since you haven't keeled over dead yet, I think I'll have another latke.
spam;
But okay, back to the serious again, if only briefly.]
I have something for you.
[He retrieves the present he'd been holding when Erik came in the room from where he'd stashed it on a side table and hands it over to Erik. It's the size of a large book and wrapped simply and neatly in blue striped paper.] Several somethings, actually, but the rest of them are sort of silly.
spam;
Tearing the paper neatly, the curious smile on his face fades; his look softens. The paper gets discarded on the floor as he looks down at the photo album in his hands. when he opens it, his eyes widen fractionally: there's a picture of his parents on their wedding day, a small, quiet affair but clearly one that shows none of the signs of hardship he remembers of his childhood. There's another of him as a baby, his father holding him up; there's one of him as a toddler sitting on his father's knee and stringing small pieces of metal onto a wire; he sits on the counter by the stove, helping his mother with the soup.
It's a short life time he didn't remember, and when he closes the album again, his eyes are damn and his voice rough.]
Thank you, Charles.
spam;
He knows Erik's started to let himself remember some of the better parts of his childhood, and he knows some of that is his fault (not that there's really any fault to be had in remembering a time before things got bad and the good parts of your life were ripped away from you piece by piece), but there are some things even a telepath can't bring back, and Erik more than deserves to have that.
And they have kids now, as ridiculous as that still feels sometimes (and as ridiculous as it is to call them kids, considering there's really only about a decade's difference in age between them), and if Erik wants to tell them about his parents, he should have the tools and ability to do so. His parents were good people who should be remembered for more than being victims of the greatest atrocity in human history, and as long as they're in a place where the impossible happens nearly every day, why not take advantage of that to bring back some of what he'd lost?
So instead of explaining, he just smiles, still more than a little relieved that this is all being pretty well received.]
You're welcome.