someday at christmas

Stevie said it better than I ever could.

Someday at Christmas

Someday at Christmas men won’t be boys
Playing with bombs like kids play with toys
One warm December our hearts will see
A world where men are free

Someday at Christmas there’ll be no wars
When we have learned what Christmas is for
When we have found what life’s really worth
There’ll be peace on earth

Someday all our dreams will come to be
Someday in a world where men are free
Maybe not in time for you and me
But someday at Christmastime

Someday at Christmas we’ll see a Man
No hungry children, no empty hand
One happy morning people will share
Our world where people care

Someday at Christmas there’ll be no tears
All men are equal and no men have fears
One shining moment my heart ran away
From our world today

Someday all our dreams will come to be
Someday in a world where men are free
Maybe not in time for you and me
But someday at Christmastime

Someday at Christmas man will not fail
Take hope because your love will prevail
Someday a new world that we can start
With hope in every heart

Someday all our dreams will come to be
Someday in a world where men are free
Maybe not in time for you and me
But someday at Christmastime
Someday at Christmastime

Warmest holiday wishes to you and your’n, from up here in New Hampshire Free State. :-)

what happens in grafton…

…stays in grafton. Except when you invite a blogger over for dinner.

A few weeks ago I journeyed out to the tiny town of Grafton for only the second time (read about the first time here). I’d heard that several Free State Project participants had moved to this town of population <1000, most notably Kat and Russell of NHUnderground and the Keene Free Press (which will be undergoing a name change in the near future, since it’s no longer based out of Keene), and I wanted to check it out for myself. I arrived at Liberty Lane (yes, it has a real street sign; no, the road isn’t paved and don’t bother trying to google it, it isn’t on public maps) mid-afternoon on a bittercold (as they say in these parts) afternoon. Liberty Lane, aka the Compound (note to Feds; that’s a *joke*), is owned by a reticent Free Stater known as “Silent Bob”. Bob owns other bits of property in Grafton. Quite a few bits, actually. And more Free Staters have moved to Grafton. Quite a number of them. Those who have been following the FSP for a few years may recall some, erm, bad blood that was engendered in those parts a few years back. But if anyone thought they had succeeded in scaring away the backwoods FSP contingent, they were mistaken.

Kat and Russell were kind enough to give me a tour of Grafton. I saw the grocery store, and the gas station (which sells only one kind of gas: regular unleaded). We passed by the homes of several other Free Staters, none of whom appeared to be home at the time. We stopped at Kat and Russell’s property, where they are constructing a rammed earth home which they refer to as “the Hobbit Hole”. Construction is pretty much halted for the winter, though; it’s hard to dig when the ground is frozen solid. An enormous tree which K&R had just chopped down was lying nearby. I was quite impressed by the woodsman skills of a former accountant and a sometime computer programmer.

We returned to “the Flophouse” too late to catch the sunset, which was too bad as there is an awesome view from the living room window. We then lounged and engaged in some amicable gossip, political discussion, anti-political discussion, bitching, whining, teasing and mocking, while other Free Staters trickled in for the weekly Friday night potluck dinner.

It will be very interesting to see what happens in Grafton over the next few years. A new event has already been hatched from the beer-soaked minds of this gang of rural rabble-rousers: Burning Porcupine. Modelled (kinda sorta) on the annual Burning Man festival, Burning Porcupine will be 9 days of… well, here’s the official public announcement:

There will be drinking, burning things, sitting around BSing, bands, toilets and showers in the woods, talking about the revolution, and of course a giant burning rodent Smiley It’ll be one big party. Lloyd is going to do a naked fire dance. Tim Condon is going to prance in a gorilla suit to do: a circle of liberty, poetry reading, lead a Scrabble tournament, readings of patriotic documents, MC a magic show, a libertarian play. Wookie skydiving is on the schedule. There’s a possibility of warm-weather jello wrestling. Get your nails done by illegal nail buffers: an unlicensed Buff-In. Sumo-wrestling to settle any endless debates - noisemeter from the crowd to arbitrate. Shooting and golf - with extra points for shooting golf balls out of the air. Libertarian karaoke - full spray with firehose if you’re really bad - instead of the hook aka Gong Show. Logging competition. Burning Porcupine moving-making contest. Poker tournament with ounces of silver. Fireworks illegal in most states - IED exhibition. Burning President William. An FSP Roast - a few minutes for each freestater notable (submit your nominations for people to be roasted) - cardboard cutouts for roasting those in absentia. Live video from the event. Nightly UN flag burning.

If any of these events don’t actually happen: sue us.

July 14 - 25, 2008. Save the dates.

new pilgrim thanksgiving

I had planned on trekking to Montreal for Thanksgiving weekend, but the need to pay my last respects to the patriarch threw a wrench in those plans. Fortunately, I was presented with a delightful alternative. A recent Free State Project transplant to New Hampshire from Rhode Island graciously offerred to host Thanksgiving dinner in her home for other Free Staters without family close by. As she posted on an online discussion forum popular with NH liberty activists, “perhaps this year I could celebrate it with my new Porcupine family and make it special for those that would otherwise be spending it alone.” There are now over 500 FSP participants in New Hampshire; that number is about evenly split between participants who were living here before NH won the state vote, and participants who have moved here from all over the U.S. (and even a few other countries) since then. While many Free Staters brought their wives, husbands and kids along with them, dozens have come solo. In fact, one Thanksgiving dinner wasn’t enough to accommodate the freedom-loving hordes; there were actually two dinners, one in Winchester (in the western part of the state) and the other, the one I attended, in Manchester, in the center of the state.

The hostess offered to roast a turkey and asked other attendees to bring the side dishes. Response was overwhelming. 30 people RSVP’ed, with as many as 35-40 saying they might stop by. One person volunteered advance freezer space and to provide decorations, dinnerware and a 39-cup coffee maker. One person donated a 10-14lb turkey. People who don’t even live in New Hampshire pitched in with cash contributions. But so many people RSVP’ed that one turkey in the hostess’ home clearly wasn’t going to suffice. The location was moved to a large Victorian in the north end of Manchester (coincidentally, the same one I arrived at after my cross-country journey of 4342 miles for freedom).

On the menu: 3 Turkeys (one donated, one cooked by a “sous-chef”, and it took three kitchens and a crock pot to roast them all), Stuffing, gravy, Ham (you’re welcome guy-who-refuses-to-eat-turkey-on-Thanksgiving), lasagna, hash brown casserole, homemade cranberry sauce, two apple pies, two pumpkin pies, cheesecake, wine, liquor, pumpkin eggnog, deviled eggs, mashed cauliflower, yams, squash, green bean casserole, a… fancy… pecan pie, homemade bread, Kentucky bourbon balls, hummus.

I asked what it would be most helpful for me to bring and was surprised to be told “two pumpkin pies”. I would have thought pumpkin pie would be one of the first things to get checked off the list. But OK, cool, I can do this! I’ve made pumpkin pie before. Despite having had a bad experience on a previous Thanksgiving where I waited until the night before to buy supplies, resulting in finding my local grocery store completely out of canned pumpkin pulp and a stockboy giving me a look of pure disgust when I timidly asked if they had any more… I waited until the night before to buy supplies. But at least I had a Plan B! I went to the grocery store closest to my office, knowing that if they were out of pumpkin, there were three other stores I could hit on my way home. Fortunately, I found everything I needed on the first try.

Thanksgiving morning, and an eery pall hangs over the state of New Hampshire. Hear that? It is the sound of libertarians cooking.

Friday’s Thanksgiving checklist:
third degree burn? check
broken toenail (don’t ask)? check
pumpkin spilled all over the inside of the oven door? check
pumpkin spilled on the floor? check
emergency trip to the grocery store in the middle of pie-making process because I counted my chickenseggs before they were hatched made into pie? check

Things I’m thankful for: only being responsible for two pies

I arrived at the house shortly before dinner was scheduled to begin. There were at least a couple dozen people there, many of whom I knew and several of whom I didn’t. It’s getting hard to keep up with all the new Free Staters. One entire room was needed to hold all of the side dishes and desserts. Hors d’oevres were in the TV room, and the various roasts were laid out on the dining room table. The hostess, looking fetching in a red halter-top cocktail dress, told everyone to dig in. No one needed to be told twice. Much chomping, chewing and glazing over of eyes ensued. The living room was dubbed “the Tryptophan Room”, as several guys retired there to pass out after the meal. Sadly, our attempt to paint a Cool Whip moustache on one of them was foiled; damn those light sleepers!! A Ridlio was filmed by the Liberty Zombie himself, not sure if it’s online or not. After dinner, there was ongoing nibbling, belching, lounging, and a ribald game of anti-authoritarian Scrabble during which attempts were made to make up new rules, and words. The guy with the biggest gun on his hip was called in to serve as Arbiter of Legitimate Vocabulary.

I originally intended to call this post “orphan thanksgiving”, but that’s not really accurate. We’re not orphans; most of us have families. They’re just somewhere else. But as the original Pilgrims did centuries before, we’ve journeyed to a strange new world, replete with less obtrusive government and, fortunately, not lacking in turkey, in search of greater freedom for ourselves and our posterity. And for that, I’m truly thankful.