Turkey solitaire

Thanksgiving.  It's not really a holiday for solitary observance.  It started off, after all, with European immigrants getting together with local "Indians," attempting a little inter-ethnic group camaraderie.  

No one, pilgrim or Indian, at least in the history books, went off into the forest and ate alone.

But 2020 is different in many ways, even for those of us who proudly tout our introversion.  Because it's not always been this way.  

Last year I traveled to Challis, Idaho, to celebrate with my sister and her family.  In 2018, I joined old friends in San Diego.   In 2017, I celebrated with family in Chiang Mai, Thailand.    In 2016, we actually skipped Thanksgiving on Thanksgiving, because of scheduling problems, but celebrated it a week later in Sonoma.  The last Thursday of November, rather than the fourth -- the same date that Abraham Lincoln first proclaimed it. 

And yes, sometimes I actually have hosted the celebration.  Although I guess I'd have to go back to 2004, when family and friends descended on Seattle from Northern and Southern California and from British Columbia.

This year, however, Covid-19 makes hermits of us all, at least those of us for whom a "household" consists of ourselves alone.  Together with maybe a couple of sleek, black cats.

So what does one do when celebrating Thanksgiving alone?  He doesn't buy a sixteen-pound turkey, with all the fixings.  Nor, in the midst of a pandemic lockdown, does he dine alone in a nice restaurant.  Or even in a not-so-nice restaurant.

No, he -- if by he we mean me -- does the rock bottom minimum.  He buys a frozen "Roast Turkey Breast and Stuffing Dinner" (21 grams of protein, 280 calories), and, at the appropriate time, spends about seven minutes cooking (microwaving) it.  Maybe a glass of wine to take the edge off the bizarreness of the experience.   

But before his banquet, he takes part in a multi-party Zoom session with some friends in disparate parts of the country.  He exchanges emailed greetings with family members, all of whom have managed to embed themselves within households consisting of more than a single occupant.

He then curls up with a book and two cats and reads.

And he looks forward to louder, merrier, more populated -- and much more extroverted -- Thanksgivings in the future.  

But -- as a lifelong introvert -- he finds this entire experience considerably less depressing than he hopes -- as a writer -- to have succeeded in making you feel.  

Happy Thanksgiving!  (Or whatever.)