I’m slogging through the Tuesday after Columbus Day like a drunk after a three-day bender. Yesterday’s government-declared Monday holiday tripped me up once again into believing that yesterday was Sunday redux.
I couldn’t understand why my daughter had to go to her office on a weekend. Or why my son was home, yet my grandchildren had school. Or why I couldn’t catch the next episode of Boardwalk Empire.
Even the dog was affected, choosing to sleep in Monday over going for her early morning walk.
My birthday card to a friend will be late because I failed to factor in the absence of mail service. I couldn’t deposit an important check (aren’t they all?), until this morning. And trash is stinking up my otherwise sweet neighborhood.
I don’t know about you, but these Monday holidays make me crazy. I have no use for two Sundays 11 times a year. Dealing with my declining mental acuity is labor enough without the government screwing up the calendar—and my mind.
I’d be happier and saner without all these imposed ground hog days.
That we can once again thank the government for its brilliance comes as no surprise. The well-documented reasons for the Monday holidays are two: to encourage people to SHOP and to TRAVEL. Another bow to all-American consumerism and greed.
Meanwhile, yesterday, Columbus Day, has been set aside to celebrate the man who discovered America! This son of Genoa, with chutzpah to burn and a lousy sense of direction, arrived 500 years after the Vikings and never set foot on the mainland. His settling tactics included raping, pillaging, and obliterating great numbers of indigenous people.
Sorry, I don’t want to march in that parade.
While I’m pleased to note that some 16 states do not celebrate this particular “national holiday,” I do not reside in one of them. So, with Ghandi as my role model, I stay away from malls, restaurants, hotels and gas stations.
Sue me.
Please, stop messing with the calendar and scrambling what’s left of my gray matter. Let’s rewind and celebrate the real holidays when they occur: New Year’s, July 4th, Thanksgiving, Christmas—and my birthday.
I do get the ridiculousness of Columbus Day but help us Italians out. We need a good holiday and this is what we get. Let’s face it: All we have are the Sopranos and honestly, they are so not indicative of most Italians. That’s my story and I stand by it and if anyone says otherwise, I will make a call and you will be set straight.
Donna:
Hey, please don’t send Guido and the boys to straighten me out. And please don’t knock the Sopranos. They’re one of my favorite families.
How about we celebrate Frank Sinatra’s birthday (Dec. 12)? Or Michelangelo’s? Or Sophia Loren’s? Or Marco Polo’s? Or Giotto? Or whoever invented tiramisu? Why lay it all on Columbus? We could celebrate a different noteworthy Italian every day of the year. And I’m not dishin’ pasta e fagioli. Capiche?
Yes! And my high school freshman son had this to say about getting the day off of school: “We’re getting a day off for a holiday celebrating a guy who raped, pillaged and didn’t even really discover America? How ridiculous.” Atta boy.