The Story of Thanksgiving (2020)
A Bleak-Ass Reimagining of an Already Bleak-Ass Holiday
At last, the pilgrims arrived, having braved the perilous journey from their couches and their coffee tables to the shores of the New World: the dining tables, freshly cleared of bills and political mailers and and unfinished craft projects (for which they had bought the supplies six months before and which now just sat in depressing multi-colored piles). Embroidery had seemed like it was going to be a whole big thing, at the time.
The Zoom meeting awaited them, on the iPads and the laptops and — in desperate circumstances— on the phones, propped up against stacks of books and Wait, how do you turn it horizontal? Why isn’t it full screen? And Uncle Brian had set it up so there was a waiting room, for some goddamn reason, so everyone had to wait to be let in. You’re muted, Brian.
Brian, unmute yourself. Brian.
They carried with them, of course, the Old Ways and the traditions of our people: Mom asked to see everyone’s special holiday outfits — Are those pajama bottoms or some kind of…working out pants, honey? Oh, ok, they just look comfortable, that’s all, no they’re nice! They’re nice. You always had such…funky style. What did you put the baby in? He looks hot. Is he going to be too hot?
And everyone noticed that Henry had brought his Elf on the Shelf to dinner, which wasn’t even supposed to be a Thing this year, but somewhere in mid-October the wheels had come off, and virtual school was a fucking nightmare, and he had started sucking his thumb again! So here we are! Ha ha! Elf on the Shelf! And so nobody mentioned it again, even later when the Elf broke into a sort of impromptu, Cabaret-esque, a capella rendition of WAP, replete with choreography atop the salad plates, and Mom kept saying I don’t know this little song, Henry, what are you singing? What’s he singing, Bob? And there was much muffled scuffling, and then Henry was allowed to go watch YouTube in the other room.
And Finn wanted to start with a land acknowledgment, since he had sent the link out to everyone and he would go first, and then we all chuckled about how fucked up this holiday is and how it probably shouldn’t exist, right? Like, we really shouldn’t even do this anymore, and there was much grumbling from Dad — See, Pauline, the Democrats won’t even let you talk about AMERICAN HISTORY anymore — and the traditional flurry of text messages began — in the Old Times, this would have to happen under the table, and in whispers on the way to the guest bathroom, but in this New World there was more undiscovered territory, private chat boxes and such — Is Dad fucking kidding with this? So you see, in this way, the Old Traditions were still with us.
And the pilgrims, in the midst of this unimaginable suffering, these unprecedented hardships, pressed on with the meal.
The baby started to fuss, and Aunt Emily said, Well I guess we’d better go put him down, I’m so bummed to miss dessert! Ugh! But then right when she pressed “Leave Meeting” we heard her say Oh Thank God, your family is ins- and then the screen froze so her face was still there in a kind of blurry, pixelated tableau for the rest of the meal.
And then Mom said it was time to go around and say what we were all thankful for, and Uncle Todd said that he, for one, was thankful that decency and common sense had prevailed in this damn election, and Dad made a sort of snort-y huffing sound. And Finn, not looking up from his phone, said that the Democrats were just corporate shills too, so it didn’t matter, this country is a joke, and then Dad and Uncle Todd BOTH started making a lot of huffing noises and then Mom asked very quickly if anyone had their tree up yet?
And this was the gathering, and the breaking of bread. And it’s why, every year, we remember the great and difficult pilgrimage of our people in the year 2020, and the sacrifices they made to be together, because we love to be together, as a family.
Yes, that’s the end, you can go to Penelope’s backyard thing now. Take your mask. YOUR MASK. The other one, the one I just washed. Ok.The Zoom starts at 7, so be back by 6:30. 6:30! Love you.
