It’s 3:30 in the morning. Today’s Thanksgiving! My wife Catherine is asleep upstairs. I’m down here on the couch with my laptop.
Man, how was that not way too much boring information?
Then again, it’s not like anyone’s gonna read this. Who reads a blog on Thanksgiving?
Who writes a blog on Thanksgiving?
Anyway, today’s the big day! Or one of them, anyway. But I know you all are out there being super busy, with the pie baking and stuffing making and turkey plucking and so on. All that food stuff. And you’re doing all that family stuff, too, I know. I mean, of course you are. Or most of you are, anyway. I guess. If you’re a reader of my blog, it’s probably just as likely that you’re sitting on your couch drinking and watching television.
My peeps! Awesome.
Ah, family. I used to have one. Sort of. In the way having one sock is having a suit.
When I was a kid, Thanksgiving was just another insanely painful exercise in bad.
First were Thanksgivings in our house before my parents got divorced when I was eight. (Main memory: me, thinking, “Wow! A turkey’s leg is the size of my whole upper body! How big and scary are turkeys, anyway? I guess we kill and eat them because we’re afraid that’s what they do to us if we don’t. That makes sense, I guess. Boy, mom and dad sure hate each other.”)
Then were two years of Thanksgivings with just my mom, my sister, and me. (Main memory/thought: “I should just kill myself.”)
Then came the Thanksgivings after my mom suddenly disappeared for two years without a trace (“I’m off to the store!” she said, lying and leaving) and my dad was suddenly back in our lives with his new wife that I was supposed to call “Mom.” (Main thought during these Thanksgivings: “I should just kill them all.”)
But all that was many moons ago.
Ah, time. It really does heal all wounds.
When I was young I wondered if that was really true. Well, now that I’m old enough to actually be able to know for sure either way, I can definitely report that it is. Time really does heal all wounds!
Of course, then you’re closer to being dead, cuz you’re older. But you’re wiser!
Boy, everything sure does come at a price, doesn’t it? Wiser—but deader.
It’s so weird to think that (assuming nothing awful happens to my brain), on the day I die, I will be wiser than I’ve ever been in my whole entire life.
I’ll be, like, “Oh my God! I just realized the most major truth ever!” and then whammo: dead.
That will totally bite turkey leg.
Anyway, that’ll be then, and this is now, and life is nothing but nows becoming thens.
Whoa. Pretty wise!
Okay, it’s looks like I’m still alive.
Whew. Close call!
Hey, happy Thanksgiving. Thanks for all you guys have given me. You read what I write; you make with the good comments; you share so much of your lives with me … it’s just all good.
Inside, always, I am a loner. You help me be less of one. And for that I am, and remain, extremely grateful.
My very best to you all on this lovely, strange, sentiment-evoking day.