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A Day Of Independence, Festivals And Forgetfulness

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  • A Day Of Independence, Festivals And Forgetfulness

    A DAY OF INDEPENDENCE, FESTIVALS AND FORGETFULNESS

    StarPhoenix
    Les MacPherson
    Published: Saturday, September 22, 2007
    Canada

    Yesterday might have seemed to you like any other day.

    But no. Yesterday, Sept. 21, was a day bursting with social and
    historic significance, most of it overlooked.

    Among other things that almost certainly escaped your attention,
    yesterday was Armenian Independence Day. We don't hear a lot about
    Armenia, which, to Armenians, should stand as a source of great
    national pride.

    Unlike quite a few other countries I could mention, Armenia is quietly
    going about its business, not making a ruckus, not stirring up trouble,
    not raising any kind of international stink. This in spite of a long
    history of brutal oppression that left more ethnic Armenians living
    outside the country than in it.

    If anyone has the right to be bitter and resentful, it is the
    Armenians. Instead, they're so calm and reasonable that we almost
    never hear from them. People of Armenia, I salute you.

    Armenians did not have the special day all to themselves. Yesterday
    also marked the International Banana Festival. Or at least it used
    to. The banana festival was held every fall in the town of Fulton, Ky.,
    where one of the main industries was repacking in fresh ice bananas
    being shipped by rail from New Orleans to Chicago. Among the festival
    highlights was the annual preparation of a two-ton banana pudding,
    reputedly the biggest banana pudding in the world. The Soviets once
    claimed to have a three-ton banana pudding at their nuclear test site
    in Semipalatinsk, but this was never confirmed.

    The Banana Festival's days were numbered when refrigerated trucks
    and train cars rendered obsolete the Fulton banana icing station. Now
    it's called the Pontotoc Festival, named for the surrounding county.

    The Pontotoc Festival reportedly is largely similar to the old Banana
    Festival, but without the two-ton pudding. This must have come as a
    tremendous relief to organizers.

    Yesterday also held deep religious significance. For Roman Catholics,
    Sept. 21 was the Saint's Day for the apostle Matthew, otherwise
    known as St. Matthew or Matthew the Evangelist. Little is known of
    Matthew, except that he abandoned a career as a tax collector to
    follow Jesus. Of course, you don't have to be Christian to celebrate
    one less tax collector loose in the world.

    Matthew, incidentally, is the patron saint of tax collectors. You
    might try praying to him for a break if you're ever audited.

    Speaking of religion, yesterday was also the start of Yom Kippur,
    the Jewish day of atonement and self-denial. From sunset last night
    until sunset today, observant Jews will not partake of food, drink
    or sex. They will also refrain from bathing and wearing leather
    shoes. It's the only legitimate excuse I can think of for wearing
    Crocs.

    Among the followers of Wicca, yesterday was the ancient Festival of
    Mabon. Celebrations traditionally include the burning of an oversize
    male figure made of corn stalks. The idea is to set free the spirit of
    the harvest. Also set free is the spirit of the late Margaret Hamilton,
    who played the wicked witch in the Wizard of Oz.

    Another of yesterday's special observations was International Peace
    Day, so proclaimed by the United Nations. I hope someone mentioned
    this in the Middle East. If people there could be persuaded to live
    in peace for just one day, maybe the UN could extend it next year to
    International Peace Week.

    Yesterday was also marked by astronomical significance. With the
    autumnal equinox falling as it does today, that made yesterday the last
    full day of summer. I can think of no better reason not to celebrate.

    If this summer seemed short to you, it's because it was, at least
    in relative terms. When you're six years old, for example, a single
    summer represents more than four per cent of your life. By the time
    you reach 50, a summer amounts to just half of one per cent of your
    life. That might explain what happened to August, of which I seem to
    have no recollection at all.
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