Thanksgiving Weekend

The boss has some real oldies on the player today – Sam Cooke, “A Change is Gonna Come,” Tower of Power, “You’re Still a Young Man,” The Dells, “Oh What a Night,” The Flamingos, “I Only Have Eyes For You,” Gladys Knight, “Midnight Train to Georgia,” Minnie Riperton, “Lovin’ You,” and Peaches & Herb, “Reunited.” It’s the kind of music that makes me feel good to be alive.


There’s a current of electricity in the air today, since tomorrow is Thanksgiving, and the start of a four-day weekend for me. Because I am a curmudgeon who hates all holidays, this is surprising. I have always felt that holidays were days when people put on phony smiles and pretend to like everyone (that’s what I do, anyway). As an adult I have always felt like an outsider in my own family. The joy that I felt around holidays and birthdays as a kid has vanished, replaced by cynicism.

Wasn’t it all so great? First off, no school. Four days of lounging in my house, reading books or, when I was older, sleeping late and then hanging out with friends. Four days of no responsibility or obligations, and not even any Sunday School to spoil the weekend. Then the food – turkey, stuffing, cranberries, fancy desserts, and, best of all, leftovers. My dad made the best sandwich of leftover turkey, sliced radishes, cranberry sauce, and Durkee’s spread, which is hard to find now. I got to see aunts and uncles who didn’t live close by. I had the best aunts and uncles who were always up for jokes and games and were superior to parents in that they had no desire to discipline or make me do anything I didn’t want to.

All this goes away when you are an adult and all the aunts and uncles are gone and there’s no one to play with or cook for you. There’s no play at all, and if you want to eat you have to do your own cooking. Responsibilities and obligations do not take the weekend off. You can ignore them for a few days but they will be right back in plain view, bigger and uglier, on Monday.

But the old music is taking me back to those childhood Thanksgiving weekends when the possibilities glittered like sun on snow.