Happy Thanksgiving!

I've been putting this off all day. I was inspired when I woke up, but what I wanted to reference wasn't near by, so I started watching Mad Men. Then I went to go get pizza and watch more Mad Men. Then I called my family after I finished all the seasons of Mad Men currently available on Netflix. Then I drank some water and read some history of some Dropkick Murphys songs, and now I'm inspired to write this again. There is less than 30 minutes left of Thanksgiving left in Boston. I plan on making it worth it.

Last night at work, one of the bouncers commented that he didn't understand why it was socially unacceptable for someone to dress up as Hitler for Halloween. Don't get me wrong, he understood that Hitler was a maniac that committed unforgivable genocide. But his question was, "why is it okay if I dress up as a pilgrim, but not Adolf Hitler?" That's a very good question, really. The simple answer is that Nazi Germany, and Hitler, were defeated by a more "enlightened" and "civilized" world (we're neither of those things, by the way, but that's a whole other essay). It's true that within fifty years of first contact, over ninety percent of the indigenous population of New England died, largely at the hands of the European invaders. The story of the first Thanksgiving is a story that began with a standoff. The Wampanoag society had suffered from some great calamity, probably disease (this portion is taken from Charles C. Mann's 1491. He doesn't specify the nature of the calamity), and was under threat of annihilation by their rival nation to the west, the Narragansett. When the Wampanoag sachem (political/military leader) Massasoit revealed his strength to the Puritans, they ran to their fortifications in which they had cannon installed. A series of negotiations ensued, in which Massasoit utilized his English translator Tisquantum (commonly called Squanto) and struck an alliance with the Puritans that would deter the Narragansett Nation from wiping out the Wampanoag. Though this alliance insured the immediate survival of the Wampanoag, it also insured the survival of the Plymouth Colony as a foothold for further British settlement in the region, which would lead to further genocide, and eventually through a series of taxes and a war or two, the United States of America, which, from day one was out to punish the indigenous peoples (ask me about the Cherokee after the Revolution).

Now, back to my original intro about my coworker and Hitler. Yes, Hitler lost, and he was a horrible person that is thankfully rotting in Hell. But do you know where he got the model for his Final Solution? United States President Andrew Jackson and his Indian Removal Policy. The Reservation programs and removal acts all set the foundation and model for Adolf Hitler to exterminate the Jewish people in Europe. That's our legacy, folks. One of our Presidents inspired one of the world's most sadistic madmen. Go us. So here's something I'm thankful for on this Thanksgiving 2012: our schools are teaching these things now. The classical narrative of the Kindly Indian and Thankful Puritans is fading, and the cold, hard, painful reality is sinking in. I love my country, and I am proud as hell to be an American. But we're not perfect. We aren't the greatest country in the world. In fact, we're far from it. But knowing that is what's going to save us and make us better. I'm thankful to be an American, and I hope you all are too. I'm thankful for you guys and all of your support.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Going Out In Style

Lately I've been having an issue with motivation. It's getting colder here in Massachusetts, and the colder it gets, the less I want to get out from under my warm blankets in the morning. Whether it's going to work or school, I find that a little bit of music to pump me up gives me the boost that I need to start my day and keep it going for the duration. Since I'm in Boston, it seems only fitting that I go for one of my favorite bands of all time: The Dropkick Murphys.

Their album Going Out in Style is easily their best album so far. It's energetic, motivating, and at the risk or over using a word that has invaded our vernacular in recent years: it's pretty damn EPIC. There isn't a bad song on the whole album. From the rowdy, vengeance-fueled "Hang 'em High" to the slow and sweet "1953" this album has kept me going for weeks, maybe even months. It's not only my favorite album by DKM, it's one of my favorite albums of all time, and I can't wait for Signed and Sealed in Blood to be released this January. 

Kiss Me I'm Irish

I've always said I was Irish. I never knew it for certain, but in lieu of any other cultural identity, Irish seemed the most likely for me. Hale is a surname that originates from the British Isles, with roots in Celtic tradition. I have red hair in my beard, alluding to a recessive gene to a lost hair color that is dominant in Irish families. I have anger issues that I've been suppressing since childhood. And last but certainly not least, I like my whiskey. It all made sense to me, but when it came right down to it, I wasn't sure. My family has been here since America were British Colonies, and I have not hard evidence to illuminate my cultural lineage, and in 300 years, it's likely that I really do have a little of everything. As such I always just claimed to be an American of European descent. But when I moved to Boston and started work at an Irish Pub, that all changed.

One of my coworkers, himself a Boston Irish, immediately recognized me as being Irish based on my looks and actions. I was amazed. And kind of ecstatic. Here I'd had assumptions based on my heritage that were confirmed by a nearly complete stranger. I suddenly felt as if everything fell into place and I could embrace my issues rather than repress them further. I'm not saying that I'm going to go start a brawl or carry around a knife in my pocket just because I got recognized as Irish by a Bostonian. Nor am I going to start spending all my tips on whiskey and beer. But I feel like I am becoming more aware of myself and who I really am and I'm feeling better for it. I still feel weird saying I'm Irish out loud. I think that I fit into a plethora of categories in our American culture and claiming just one isn't fair to me or my family's history. My grandpa came from Missouri and played blue grass music. I was born in the South. I got told by my manager that I would fit right in at a Lynyrd Skynyrd concert when having a conversation about how quickly some of the other bouncers would get jumped by the Skynyrd crowd.

I guess what I'm saying is that working at the Lansdowne Pub has helped me realize some things about myself and embrace more of who I am. When I come back to California I will be a stronger, harder, more confident person. I may get in some fights along the way. I will probably make some bad life choices. But I won't regret them. I love my job, and I love the guys I work with. I sent Veterans' Day with a Marine that works with me. I get bought drinks by my managers. I have long talks with the bouncers where we swap stories for hours while it's slow. It's a slow process, but I'm embracing my life here in Boston, and it's going to change me for the better.