Last year, we had Thanksgiving dinner at my mother’s house. Constance only wanted to eat apples. She loved organic gala the best. In prior years, we celebrated by organizing community meals, having friends and family over, and even going to Keylime Cove Indoor Waterpark. Everything we did was ultimately about what Constance would enjoy.
This year, everything I did to celebrate Thanksgiving was new for me.
I started the morning by posting a video on social media that explained that I would not be sending out any end-of-year holiday cards or giving any presents (https://youtu.be/ObhCm4kCGQY). I like to set low expectations early.
Then I went to a friend’s house to feed and medicate his dogs. I gave them extra Thanksgiving Day pats and affirmations.
Next, I went to downtown San Francisco where I volunteered for an organization called Little Brothers of the Elderly. They had me bring a meal and chat with a man in the community. His name was Darrell. He told me about how he earned and then wasted his GI Bill. His home health aide, Diane, was there. Diane had just moved to San Francisco from Chicago. I told her I was the ghost of Christmas past come to tell her to return home. Chicago misses you, Diane. I will help you move back. I gave Darrell my mobile number in case he wanted to chat later and then left. He didn’t call. Men. Sheesh.
I walked around San Francisco and I ate the world’s most overpriced veggie burger on Pier 39, San Francisco’s version of Navy Pier. It was good but it ‘wasn’t pay $50 to park and $50 to eat good.’
Back in my hotel, I thought about Constance. I looked through old pictures of her and remembered all the great times we had.
I texted my friends a funny New Yorker cartoon about a smoking turkey.
I concluded my celebration by texting my friend who is Native American/Indigenous and apologize for, you know, history.
Thank you everyone for all the love and support this year.