We are on day 228 of 15 days to slow the spread.
It’s Monday, the first work day of November. Except I’m not working. I’m off on a trip to see some family, and hopefully some changing leaves.
Therefore, the brilliance you are about to read is being written over the weekend.
Working off of the “I need to be writing theme” and the fact that this is November, the month of Thanksgiving, we’re going to try for a little less whinage about our 47 years of captivity.
The first English Thanksgiving was not at Plymouth Rock. It was in Virginia a good two years prior.
No turkeys, no pilgrims, no inflatable balloons.
No regular Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. This year, that has been reimagined and will have balloons presented via specially designed contraptions and vehicles.
At least there’s something.
I’ve not heard whether we get the National Dog Show or not. And I’m too lazy to go look.
I have had the privilege on a couple of occasions to participate in the reenactment of the first Thanksgiving at Berkeley Plantation. Unfortunately that festival has also been suspended for the year.
We’ve seen all of the memes. And we’re grateful when someone comes up with a new funny to help us laugh. But let’s face it, it’s been a hard year. And we’re not out of the woods yet with this virus.
Or the election.
Still, we can, and should be thankful for our blessings.
Most of us have homes, and food, and clothing. Although I keep getting sales ads for new clothing and thinking I’m not shopping until I know what size I’ll be when we’re granted parole.
We’ve learned new ways to communicate. We’ve learned new ways to create.
And, we’ve learned that some of the things that we thought were essential were never really that important at all.
I’m hoping that, when this is behind us, that we don’t just jump right back into the consumption of everything available, every activity that’s out there, every distraction.
I’m hoping that we can remember that we liked staying at home, that we liked talking to people.
I’d be pretty thankful for that.