January 6th always meant moving our Three Kings into our nativity scene. It meant sermons about how Jesus was for everyone, not just the people in that part of the world. (I would currently state that Christ is for everyone, though many people see Christ in trees, the Buddha, and their dogs.)
I was pretty pissed about the angry mob Trump riled up in his attempted coup. AND I was pissed they did it on January 6th, which is a cool and cute day. The Three Magi (as they are also known) are golden and have nicer robes than your standard Mary, Joseph, or shepherds. It’s fun to bring them in with their useless symbolic gift. I’m into useless symbolic things.
Which is why I’m into Mardi Gras. From January 6th until the day before Ash Wednesday, we make all kinds of things, including merry.
It’s to no one’s surprise that the people who attacked their own capitol were freed by Trump. It’s no surprise that those people, and Trump, are suing our own Justice Department because of injuries they sustained in their attempted coup.
(Why don’t people call it an attempted coup? If that isn’t an attempted coup, sending all your supporters to break into the most important government building and kill their own vice president to install their preferred leader, I don’t know what is.)
This year we got through January 6th with relatively little fuss.
We waited for the president to kidnap the leader of another nation, and claim this other sovereign country as his own.
I don’t know what to say about that except, is it 1906? That was the last time the U.S. just took a signifcant chunk of land and claimed it, without any legal or logical reason for doing so. (We’ve grabbed a couple of islands here and there since.)
Like, I thought we had kind of agreed this was, in historical terms, a dick move. That stealing everything from the native people who were already there was uncool.
For context: territories the U.S. has gained….
1793: the states give themselves to the federal government, hopefully in a romantic way
1803: the Louisiana Purchase, the U.S. buying what France had rightfully stolen
1810-1819: Florida, well, no one knew at the time
1845: Texas, as always being his ownself, although his own country, decides to join the U.S., giving himself what the Spanish had rightfully stolen, infected, and enslaved
1846: The U.S. buys Oregon, which the British had rightfully stolen
1848: Mexican cession, when the U.S. violently steals what the Spanish had stolen and infected and enslaved
1898: the U.S. goes hard, buying the Philippines and Puerto Rico, which Spain had stolen, Hawaii, stolen by the U.S. from the Hawaiians
early 1900s: the U.S. decides that we, too, should steal some Pacific islands, because it makes us feel like a big boy
Sometimes I think the world wars are the most important history my students can know, and now I think, yeah, understanding that most of the world came to decide that countries invading each other and taking control of each other’s homes was a very messy, destructive idea.
Like, countries still did it on occasion (Iraq, Afghanistan, Russia), but the grown-ups frowned upon it.
Things no one can steal: my enthusiasm about hosting a party with decorations so extravagant that people recount them years later with a touch of skepticism and awe. Things no one wants to steal: everything in my apartment.
When televisions got so cheap, and my computer became something small enough that I usually had it with me, my home became quite useless for thieves.
Take note, thieves!
This has wandered, hasn’t it?
Don’t worry, I’m about to tie it all up: stealing is bad. Gifts are good. Having people come over to eat soup and drink and chat is good.
The administration next threatens to take over Greenland (to feel like a big boy). People bring pots of soup they have lovingly simmered. They have chopped up onions and garlic and carrots. They set it on my stove, to keep it warm. We plug in the crock pots. In every season, in any weather, we meet and hug and deliberately connect. And it helps.
Going On 