158 – Why Brits Should Celebrate Thanksgiving

This is my rant about why Brits should reclaim Thanksgiving. I have two book recommendations to help you learn the basics: The Thanksgiving Story by Alice Dalgliesh with Caldecott Honor winning illustrations by Helen Sewell, as well as Squanto’s Journey by Joseph Bruchac and illustrated by Greg Shed. Both of these books beautifully share a story of brave people who made amazing journeys and helped very different groups of people come together as friends.

British People Should Take Back Thanksgiving

by T.Q. Townsend

I’m an expat who lives in Leicestershire. I love it here. It’s a great place to raise kids. There’s lots of great stuff to do outdoors. And nobody talks politics. I am conspicuously American, a trait that is compounded by being the only Yank in my village other than my dual citizen kids.

I try to do my best to enhance the Special Relationship between our countries, mostly by making my husband cups of tea just the way he likes them, but also by introducing little bits of Americana that are compatible with British life. Things like Goldfish Crackers, meat loaf, and pumpkin bread have been eagerly adopted by my neighbours, and I even got a bunch of families to come play baseball on the village green on multiple occasions.

I don’t want to change Britain fundamentally, but there has been one thing that has been on my mind more and more the longer I live here. Y’all need to take Thanksgiving back. I feel like this shouldn’t be a hard sell. I don’t say this merely because I get a bit homesick every year on this holiday, and it’s very hard to celebrate properly on the fourth Thursday in November when my kids have a normal school day and all my friends have to be at work. It’s also because it’s legitimately a good idea. And you should rely on my authority because not only am I a real red blooded American, but I am also a descendant of Edward Doty, who not only helped celebrate the first Thanksgiving but was also the first person to be punished as a criminal in the Massachusetts Bay Colony.

Allow me to lay out the facts.

First, Thanksgiving started out as an English holiday. Way back at the start of the 17th century, the people who first partied with the Wampanoag tribe from what is now Massachussetts were English, having lived nearly two centuries before those dirty, dirty rebels sent that nasty note to poor King George III. (We can gloss over the part where they were kind of nutty religious extremists who thought the Puritains weren’t strict enough. Let’s just focus on the part where they all had a really nice time together eating gruel or whatever it was they had in the olden days.) So really, if you think about it, this holiday has always been yours to begin with.

Second, British people love a roast. I don’t mean verbal razzing, although you like that too. I mean delicious savory food slow cooked for hours, served with copious side dishes and a cauldron of gravy. I do not have to expend any energy making the case for having a roast followed by ample desserts. You already take any excuse you can get to do this.

Third, you get something else you already like: a bank holiday. I know that Thanksgiving can feel a little unnatural at first because it falls on a Thursday, rather than on a Monday as the good Lord intended. But this is actually a pretty good deal. Because everyone is so overstuffed with turkey and pie and football and freedom, quite a lot of employers give up and also declare the following Friday to be a loss. Some schools in America even give kids the whole week off, adding a bonus half term holiday to the calendar. In late November it’s getting pretty dark and cold in this country. It wouldn’t be so bad to have a few extra days to party.

Fourth, Thanksgiving does a great job of holding back Christmas. Look, Christmas is the king of holidays. It’s the best day of the year. It also starts way too early. By having Thanksgiving to focus on, stores are forced to hold back on Christmas displays for a few more weeks and we can all keep “All I Want for Christmas is You” out of our heads just a little bit longer.

Finally, it’s fun. Thanksgiving is a casual holiday. A time devoted to gathering with people you actually like, unlike the other holidays that force you to mix with people who say crazy things on Facebook but have to be invited because of shared DNA. It’s about gathering with friends in comfy clothes, watching the big game, eating some good food, and having lots of laughs. It’s a great low-pressure setting for someone to introduce a new significant other to the extended family. It’s a time to invite a lonely neighbour or a new acquaintance over so they can make some friends. It’s a time for grandma to show off her pie baking skills, and for a pack of children to play outside until they go a bit feral. It can be a bit rowdy, which not all British people will instantly be comfortable with, but I have found that with sufficient gravy and pie, folks around here will put up with just about anything.

Most American expats here in Britain celebrate Thanksgiving on the Saturday after the official holiday, so that there’s time for a proper feast. That works, but I hope that I’ve done a little bit to convince you that this holiday isn’t quite so foreign as you may have thought. It’s my hope that in a few years, you’ll be just as overstuffed with pumpkin pie as I am every November.

157 – Paddington in Peru

The Paddington film franchise is a great example of how it IS possible to take beloved characters from children’s literature and write new adventures for them that remain true to the spirit of the original stories. So how does Paddington in Peru measure up? Is it as good as Paddington 2? How many Snapes does it receive for its faithfulness to the source material? And why will it mean so much to immigrant families like mine?

Also in this episode, I take a moment to explain that although I’ve talked about Taylor Swift on the show a few times with my daughter, this is neither an endorsement nor a rebuke of the artist’s political views. Everything seems to be so political lately, and I often forget this as I am lucky enough to live in an area where people simply don’t talk politics.

Chloë has been enjoying This isn’t What it Looks Like from The Secret Series by Pseudonymous Bosch, and Phoebe found a very sweet Halloween book that the library forgot to put away. It’s called The Pumpkin Who Was Afraid of the Dark and tells the story of a cute little pumpkin named Boo who doesn’t like the spooky parts of Halloween. Although it’s out of season, I think it’s well worth picking up a copy and tucking it away for next year.

156 – Will Wicked Connect with Kids?

In this episode, co-host Chloë tells us about Sapphire Battersea, a book that’s really captured her. She has loved every book that she has ever read by Jacqueline Wilson, and whether this author is tackling grounded, real-world family drama or the more fantastical world of circus sideshows, Chloë has always noticed and latched onto the struggles of children born to working class families.

In the main segment, the film adaptation of the stage musical Wicked will be out in a few days and the marketing push is ON. This movie is several artistic generations removed from The Wonderful Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum. The musical is beloved the world over, but mainly by adults. Will this film bring the story back to families and children? Will the drama around its marketing cause problems? Or is it just too darn long for kids to sit through? Let us know what you think!

155 – Samantha – Our First American Girl

Samantha Parkington was the first character that I read about in the American Girls book series. She was introduced when I was a little girl. I grew up on this book series and it has been wonderful to see that my daughter loves them just as much as me. She has her own dolls now, and I’ve been pleasantly surprised to see how well these books help teach about key periods of American history. This is especially important because our family lives in England and we want to stay connected with both of our cultures.

Find out what Chloë noticed about these books, especially the uncomfortable truths about how society treated certain groups of people in 1904. In some ways it’s difficult to see her struggle with the injustice of racism and classism, but at the same time it’s good so see how instinctively she recognizes and rejects these forms of bigotry.

There is a bit of background noise in this episode, which came from Chloë wanting to hold her American Girl dolls while we had our conversation. I never want to prioritize production quality over the enthusiastic participation of my daughter and co-host, so I am sure with this in mind, none of you will mind a few rustling sounds here and there as the dolls are cuddled.

Did you have a Samantha doll or did you read her books? What’s your favorite outfit of hers? What’s your favorite of her adventures?

Also, I wanted to note that our original conversation was much longer. We spent a lot more time discussing issues of race and class than what is presented here. But the conversation was edited down to keep it to the usual show length. I also felt parts of our conversation were very personal, and some moments between parents and children are more special if they are kept private.

154 – I Talk to an Immigration Judge about Paddington’s Passport

Paddington, the beloved creation of author Michael Bond, was recently given a British passport. But . . . how would he have qualified? I speak to my delightful neighbor (ok, let’s spell it neighbour since, after all, I do live in England) Norman, who is a retired immigration judge, about how Paddington might have been able to acquire British citizenship and qualify for a passport. You can see the video version of this part of the show on YouTube:

Thanks for joining in this very silly, very fun conversation, Norman! I really appreciate what a good sport you were and how thoughtfully you researched the topic.

Also in this episode, I reveal big plans for the YouTube channel, both in terms of how to best bring audio and video to you, as well as how I plan to deal with internet nonsense. As always, the happiness and safety of my kids comes first, and for my own part I will respond as little as possible to negativity.

El Día de los Muertos

Passing on family traditions is one of the best parts about being a parent. My family celebrated El Día de los Muertos, a tradition I loved as part of growing up in Los Angeles.

Día de los Muertos by Roseanne Greenfield Thong with illustrations by Carles Ballesteros is a much beloved book at my house. My kids often ask to read it even when it’s not near the holiday. But every year on this holiday we read it together before lighting candles and adding personal items to our ofrenda familiar. We tell stories about family members who came before us, keeping their stories and memories alive.

We also eat Pan de Muertos, which is a delicious sweet bread flavored with aniseed and orange. Here’s my recipe. Now, this is just the way I was taught to make it when I was a teenager. I know there are a lot of variations. If your family makes it differently, please share your recipe! And if your Abuelita says that my recipe is wrong . . . she is right. Abuelita is always right. I am wrong. ABUELITA IS RIGHT.

Pan de Muertos

1/2 to 1 tablespoon aniseed
1/4 cup butter
1 teaspoon yeast
3/4 cup milk
1/4 cup sugar
zest from two oranges
1/4 cup orange juice
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 eggs
3.5 to 4 cups white flour

Earlier in the day, melt the butter and add the aniseed. Allow it to soak so the aniseed softens and the flavors begin to come out. Combine the sugar, milk, and yeast and set the mixture aside so the yeast can activate.

Into a mixing bowl, grate the zest of two oranges. Add 1/4 cup of fresh orange juice. Mix in the butter and aniseed, then stir in the yeast. Add 1/4 teaspoon salt and two eggs. Mix thoroughly.

Add 3 to 3 1/2 cups flour. Turn out and knead in more flour until you have a smooth, stretchy dough. Cover and let rise until double.

Cut the dough into four equal portions. Set one aside. Shape the remaining portions into 12 buns (or divide into more if you prefer smaller size buns). Use the remaining portion of dough to shape “bones” by rolling the dough into long, thin strips that are cut to size. If you like, you can also shape a “skull” to go above them.

Bake at 350F/180C for about 15 minutes or until they are golden brown. Brush the tops with a mixture of melted salted butter and a chunky sugar like turbinado or demerarra. (These are also nice brushed with a mixture of orange juice and sugar – do what you like!)

Serve warm while telling stories about loved ones.

153 – What’s YOUR Favorite Scary Story?

I loved Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark as a kid. Alvin Schwartz’ retellings and Stephen Gammell’s bonechilling drawings kept me hypnotized. The excitement and fun of a good scary story has kept these books popular for generations.

What’s YOUR favorite Scary Story?

A “Jane Austen Story”

My girls like to make their own videos, and this was originally done as a birthday present for my mom. A few friends deemed it too good to hide from the world, which is an opinion I am inclined to agree with. Please enjoy the following performance of “Expectations and Expectorating,” which will no doubt soon be featured on Masterpiece Theatre. The thing is, in many ways the story they came up with was not that far off the mark. Trade the dinosaurs for a catastrophic evening at a public ball and it’s spot on.

Publisher’s Note: While digging a hole in their back garden, two young girls recently discovered a long lost manuscript written by Jane Austen. Their mother was rather annoyed about the hole, but after realizing the importance of their discovery, allowed them to share what they found with the world. Here is an abridgment of the long lost novel by Jane Austen, which bore the title “Expectations and Expectoration.”

Expectations and Expectorating

A long lost tale by “Jane Austen”

It is a truth universally acknowledged that the bond of sisterly affection can never be breached. Unless a really hot guy turns up in the village.

And such was the circumstance when three sisters – Elizabeth, Annabelle, and Chelsea Tuppence – were sitting in the small breakfast room in the comfortable cottage where they lived with their poor widowed mother.

On a fine spring morning, the eldest daughter Annabelle, noted that a fine young gentleman seemed to be riding past their window.

Annabelle set down the very becoming bonnet she was trimming so that she could catch a glimpse of the visitor. He was smoldering with charm as his horse galloped across the picturesque downs, which conveniently had a phony ruined castle on the most charming of the hilltops. With all the sweetness and impulsiveness over her seventeen years, Annabelle declared, “WHOA! He IS fine!”

“Boys are yucky!” Replied Chelsea, who was quite too young to see why fine young men in blue coats were of any use at all.

The stranger begged admittance to the house and announced himself to be Mr. Ashby, the extremely handsome, wealthy, and unmarried nephew of Lady Bigginsworth, who lived down the road at Persnickety Park.

With a very low bow, Mr. Ashby asked how the ladies did.

“Much better now, thank you,” replied Elizabeth. “Would you like some tea?”

“Indeed,” came Mr. Ashby’s eager reply.

The gentleman was so affable that within just a few moments they were all chatting as if they were old friends. They talked about the most interesting subjects; the state of the roads, which books were tedious yet important, and whether or not it might rain later.

Later that evening, the two sisters unburdened their hearts to one another. Dashing about the room in a state of delighted agitation, Annabelle cried out, “I say, Elizabeth, I believe Mr Ashby is in love with me!”

“Dearest sister,” replied the elder Miss Tuppence, “I do believe you are mistaken.” Or rather, this was the reply she intended to make, but rather the words which escaped her lips were, “No, ME!”

Annabelle, with all the passion that a young, beautiful, and economically idle young woman can muster, gasped with dismay and then reasserted her claim on Mr. Ashby’s affections.

What ensued was a rare breach of sisterly affection which left neighboring farmers in no doubt that several cats must have been debating territorial boundaries.

On hearing the distressing state of affairs between the elder Misses Tuppence, Chelsea dashed up the stairs, flung open the bedroom door, and cried out for her dear sisters to stop such a disgraceful display of unsisterly behavior.

“I found this letter,” Chelsea declared, holding an enormous envelope. Inside was a confession which declared Mr. Ashby to be the basest of scoundrels. Although he lived with the appearance of a gentleman of good character, he intended to roam the countryside and steal from young ladies who might fall prey to his handsomeness and smoldering.

“He writes with a very good hand,” observed Annabelle, and Elizabeth had to own that this was true.

“But surely this must be the result of some strange misapprehension,” Elizabeth said in confusion. “For why would Mr. Ashby leave such a confession for us to find?”

“I picked his pocket,” Chelsea explained. “Mr. Ashby is a scoundrel, and he must never be welcome at Tuppence Cottage again.”

“That’s right!” the ladies heard a manly voice declare from outside. They looked out the window and saw Mr. Ashby standing below in the road. “I don’t love either one of you. I’m just here for your money! Ha ha ha ha ha haaaa!”

And with that, he galloped off down the road, having neglected to collect any of the Tuppence family fortune. But, as Elizabeth observed at a later moment of quiet recollection, Mr. Ashby’s marked traits were those of handsomeness and affability, not cleverness.

Yet Elizabeth was to be denied this satisfying contemplation for some time, as she fainted away alongside Annabelle. When the elder Misses Tuppence awoke some moments later, they began weeping. Chelsea, having been unable to move either of her elder sisters, had seated herself between them.

“Don’t worry,  girls,” pronounced the youngest Miss Tuppence, “He’s a loser.”

At that very moment the sisters were alerted by a sound which resembled distant thunder. They looked again outside the window.

“My goodness, what’s that?” Elizabeth asked as she attempted to make out what fresh agitation might be coming down the road.

“It’s a a bunch of dinosaurs,” Chelsea observed.

In this moment the three young ladies put aside any past quarrels and poured into one another’s hearts the balm of sisterly affection.

“Sisters,” declared Annabelle, “Now is the time that we shall stick together more than ever before.”

There then ensured a most inconvenient row in the village of Little Wigglesworth. Elizabeth tore a great slit in her new muslin gown while battling not one but two triceratopses, and Annabelle was obliged to strike a T-Rex in the face with her best fan. Chelsea fared somewhat better, managing to befriend an obliging diplodocus and convince it to bear her about on its back. In the end, using their charm, wit, embroidery skills, and excellent moral principles, the Tuppence sisters were victorious. It must be owned, however, that their dear Mama was obliged to come downstairs to help them, which caused great agitation to her nerves.

And from that day the Tuppence sisters lived happily in their quiet little cottage in Devonshire. They had some small regrets that Mr. Ashby had been devoured by a rabid T-Rex, but found consolation in their tea parties, their musical evenings, and living such upright lives as to deny the
neighbors the satisfaction of gossip.

 

152 – Another Celebrity Children’s Book

ANOTHER celebrity has decided to dabble in writing for children. Whooptie-doo. In more exciting news, co-host Chloë has checked out not just one Max Crumbly book from the library to read during the school break but also THREE volumes of the Dork Diaries by Rachel Renee Russell.

151 – Why Can’t University Students Read?

A recent article in The Atlantic caught my attention. “The Elite College Students Who Can’t Read Books” by Rose Horowitch shares stories from professors at elite schools who have found that over the last 20 years (the time period in which kids got smartphones . . . hmmm . . .) students’ attention spans have eroded to the point that many of them can’t manage to read an entire novel anymore.

I had some thoughts on this, and my take on whether or not students should be enrolling in liberal arts programs in the first place might surprise you.

Have you read this article? Do you agree or disagree with the anecdotes and opinions shared by the professors? What recommendations would you make to individual teachers and parents about how to help kids practice the skills needed to enjoy and analyze literature?