Thanksgiving 2021

Written in the early days of the pandemic — foreseeing a return to normalcy in a world transformed

One after another, the cars pulled into the driveway and discharged a ruckus of children and dogs and serving dishes and beverages. For today, everyone was glad to leave their facemasks in their cars.

“We are SO happy to see you!” I said, as we shared elbow bumps on the way into the house. I have really missed hugs.

We had not congregated en masse since the new vaccine had proven effective a few months ago. Video chat is nice, but it cannot compare to the bedlam of our family gatherings. This Thanksgiving promised to be our best party ever.

Just inside the front door, Lisa handed out sanitizing wipes to each person as they entered. ErinH wiped her own hands and then worked on sanitizing Ryan and William as they squirmed to escape the wipe down and get to the toy bin. Betsy and ErinE headed to the kitchen to sanitize everything that had come in, including the beer bottles. Whether we needed all this wiping or not, it had become standard routine. There might be more waves to this pandemic, and we worried about the next one.

The dogs ran around the house, tails a waggin’, stopping briefly to get a head scrub from one person before moving on to the next. Our cat disappeared upon hearing the first car enter the driveway. She is no fan of dogs and enjoys children even less.

As we finished the sanitizing, Lisa declared, “I want hugs!” I moved to stand at her side.

Without discussion or complaint, each of our children, and their wives, and aunts and uncles and nieces and nephews and boyfriends and girlfriends, each stepped in front of Lisa as if addressing the queen of quarantine. Though never much of a hugger, eldest son Brian stepped into her embrace and allowed a long, loving hug. He stepped over to me and allowed me the same. One by one we hugged our way through the entire group. At the end of the line, they hugged each other.

By the end, we were all leaking tears, Lisa and I more than the rest. “I love you guys so much! I really needed that,” Lisa said with a smile on her teary face. Of no surprise to anyone, my emotions rendered me incapable of speech.

“And now, the kids!” Lisa exclaimed.

David pried Ryan and William away from the toys and urged, “Grandma needs hugs!” Though we had visited David and ErinH’s house several times since the isolation orders were lifted, we felt a serious deficit in our hug quota and apparently so did the boys. They ran into our arms and tolerated long hugs before wriggling away to return to the toys. Both of us continued to trickle tears of joy.

Matthew and Sarah dragged two-year-old Aria to us, struggling to distract her attention from the dogs to her grandparents. She accepted only brief hugs from us before toddling off after the dogs.

“That was exceptional,” I said, finally regaining my ability to speak. “We should have another hug-fest really soon — like in an hour.” Everyone laughed, but most of them knew I meant it.

Lisa mopped her tears with a tissue and then greeted her way through the group, re-hugging most of them.

I accepted a beer from ErinH’s boyfriend Aaron, and we moved to the family room to turn on the Lions game. Packers vs. Lions. Most of us were aggrieved Lions fans but Aaron was a native Cheesehead. Four minutes into the game it was already Green Bay 7, Detroit 0. Typical. As always, we would watch anyway. Aaron was a gracious winner, so this would be only the usual amount of painful.

Aaron was finishing his stint as a census supervisor, the door-to-door part of the census having been delayed for a year due to the virus. “How did the census go?” I asked.

“Awkward, but enlightening,” he replied. “My crew was nervous about going out and a lot of people were nervous to open the door. But we found that most people were glad to be counted and just damn glad to talk with somebody.”

We continued chatting while watching the Packers score again. “So what’s next after the census?”

“I’ve been looking everywhere for a job, but hiring is still pretty slow, I don’t know. But you know, I’m making so much money doing deliveries I may just go full-time on that, except when I’m writing plays, of course. And I’ve got a great one in the works.”

Aaron had been supplementing his income delivering groceries, and during isolation demand was so high that rates skyrocketed, and even now they remained high. Far beyond mere Amazon deliveries, we had gotten used to deliveries and pickups for all kinds of things, thereby promoting epic hiring for order fulfillment jobs.

ErinE joined us and gave me another hug. “Hello, Unca Bill,” she lilted in her usual way.

“Hiya. How goes the great world of sports?”

ErinE is a curator with Ilitch Holdings, owner of the Detroit Tigers and Red Wings amongst other, um, holdings. She designs exhibits to present team lore to fans who visit the stadiums. Except that for over a year, no one visited the stadiums. Only a few months ago did fans rejoin the teams to watch games in person.

“I’m super busy, she said with a smile. “People are coming to the games, but not as many as we need. We’re trying to up the experience every way we can.”

We all had watched sports on TV, played in front of empty stadiums, and it was better than no sports at all. My wife sometimes says I only watch for the sports noise, but truly I enjoy the drama of sport. However, without fans it’s not as satisfying. I guess seeing and hearing the fans connects us to the games — it puts us there.

ErinE added, “The fingerprint system is working great. I know some people don’t like it, but it’s so important that we can know the people coming into the stadiums have tested negative.”

From across the room Brian growled, “And that’s why you’ll never see me at a stadium again!”

Brian has strong opinions and revels in sharing them. He is also anti-oversight, that is oversight by anyone over anyone, particularly himself. The fingerprint system had saved the sports and entertainment industries, allowing people to congregate in large groups, confident that the people around them had recently tested negative for Covid.

“Bunch of damn sheep lining up to give the government their fingerprints and a health report. I’m not going to be part of this surveillance society,” he continued grumpily.

It’s best not to debate with Brian because his debates tend to be enduring and loud. But he and Matthew have a long history of debate, and today would be no different. I realized that like so many other parts of pre-isolation life, I even missed the debates.

As a new father, Matthew’s opinions have been evolving toward nurturing and protection. He is not a sports fan, so watching people stream into stadiums seems nonsensical to him.

“I don’t care about the games, but I would rather have surveillance than another wave of Covid infections,” he offered. “You know we can’t trust the sheep to do the right thing.” He was quick to remind us about the mobs of protesters, naysayers and other crackpots who had flouted isolation restrictions.

Isolation had been a gut-punch for Matthew and Sarah. They were less than a month into parenthood when Covid came upon us. Instead of sharing beautiful Aria with family and friends, they were forced to hunker down with their newborn, sharing their joy (and challenges) only via video chat. Matthew’s real estate career rebounded slowly as buyers gradually came back to the market when isolation was lifted. Like so many of us, Matthew and Sarah would tolerate some surveillance to prevent a return to such difficult times. These days, isolation might not be as bad for Matthew, because like many professions, real estate has become mostly contactless. All the paperwork is online and until there is an offer on a house, only the agents are allowed inside, live-streaming house tours to the buyers — much safer for all involved.

As the debate continued, I heard a muted roar in the background. The Lions had scored to make it 14–7 Green Bay. Perhaps the game won’t be a complete disaster.

The aroma of roasting turkey reminded me it was basting time, so I headed to the kitchen where I encountered more vigorous conversation. Over a smorgasbord of appetizers on the kitchen island, Joe and David were giddily reviewing the chances that Michigan State football would make it to the Big 10 championship game. Amanda, Caty, Philip and Devin were snacking and discussing our progress back to normalcy. As we must do at every such gathering, I shooed them away from the stove so I could work on dinner.

While basting, I interrupted the football conversation, “Hey Joe, are you planning any adventures soon?”

Like most people, Joe was reluctant to resume his travels, in some part because he marooned Betsy at the start of the Covid outbreak and she did not want a repeat. Joe had embarked on a three-week fishing trip to the Patagonia region of Chile a week before the lockdowns began. He was forced to cut his trip short, finagle a plane ride home before borders closed, and then self-quarantine Up North for two weeks. Betsy was glad that he made it safely back in the country, but disgruntled that she had to sequester alone for so long.

“I think I’ll stick to the states for now,” Joe replied. “I don’t want to get stuck out of the country again. Betsy would kill me. My fishing gang is headed back to Montana in the spring, and I’m really looking forward to that.”

Going to Montana would require a plane trip, which has become much safer and more comfortable since the bailout. TSA now does on-the-spot Covid tests which slows things down, but the lines are no worse than before thanks to fewer flyers. It’s rough when you or a family member tests positive, but we have all had to become more adaptable. Airfares have nearly doubled to cover testing, cleaning costs and reduced capacity (no more middle seats!), but we would rather pay extra to feel safe flying.

Remembering Joe’s debacle, I laughed and said, “Yeah, you’re probably still rebuilding goodwill with Betsy. Lisa and I are thinking we might be ready to try Europe again next summer.”

Before the Covid crisis, Lisa and I were planning a trip to Italy, where we have wanted to go for years. But travel halted for everyone during isolation, and since then we have not traveled anywhere except by car. We are eager to get back to seeing the world, and hopeful that it will make sense next year.

Turkey basting complete, I grabbed a pickle roll (one of Aaron’s Wisconsin treats), and headed back to the family room, just in time to see the Lions tie the score heading into halftime. We cheered, though most of us expected they would find a way to lose.

On the sofa, ErinH was describing conditions at her family medical practice to the other mothers in our group.

“BidenCare has changed everything for us and mostly for the better,” ErinH said, referring to our new national health system, nicknamed like the ObamaCare it replaced. “We used to see people only when they had gotten terribly ill and our treatment options were limited. Now we see people at well visits, and we can offer interventions before things get so bad. It makes my job so much better — I feel like I can really help people, not just slap a band-aid on it.”

The Covid crisis was scary for ErinH’s family, she a doctor, David on an immunosuppressant, and with young sons Ryan and William. As Covid hospitalizations soared, ErinH feared she might be moved to hospital duty, and they wondered how they would protect David and the kids and neighboring parents and grandparents from Covid transmission risks. Fortunately, the number of Covid cases in their area remained relatively low, and she was able to stay away from the hospitals.

Betsy commented, “Thank you very much Elizabeth Warren! Without her, BidenCare would probably have been just as hamstrung as ObamaCare. Biden was so smart to put her in charge of healthcare reform.”

The Biden/Warren partnership won the election by a wider margin than anyone expected. It helped that vote-by-mail was expanded nationwide, thanks to Amazon’s purchase of the postal service. Whether you like Jeff Bezos or not, we all had to admit that mail service had improved.

Mary and Lisa raised their glasses to agree with Betsy. Mary added, “A lot of medical office workers lost jobs, but medical office work got a lot better. I’m thinking of going back.”

Mary had worked as a medical office manager for years, but she retired a couple of years ago. She often complained about how broken the system was, the for-profit medical model creating great pressure to increase revenue and cut costs, neither of which addresses improved patient care.

Lisa hugged ErinH again and said, “I was so worried about you guys. I’m so glad you didn’t have to work at the hospital.”

During the peak of the Covid crisis, hospital work was brutally tragic and dangerous. Workers lacked the protective equipment they needed to protect patients or even themselves, and many doctors, nurses and hospital workers contracted the virus. Too many suffered and too many died. Thankfully, the House and Senate were able to agree on legislation to address future crises, The National Preparedness Act, which had properly funded the CDC, FEMA and the national stockpile.

Behind me, David grumbled, “Argh! What a terrible pass!” The Lions QB had thrown a very regrettable pick-six. Packers 21, Lions 14.

David had been such a good husband and father through all this. He comforted ErinH and entertained the boys while working from home and keeping Lisa and I connected via Facetime. He could still work from home most of the time, often using video chat both with customers and his employees at the shop. We have all gotten used to video chat in place of in-person meetings. I think of all the client meetings I drove to throughout my career and lament such a waste of time and gas.

“Hey Dad,” he called to me. “Have you seen the latest virus app?” Then he corrected himself, “I should know better, of course you have.”

Despite my lengthy career in computer technology, I am a well-known Luddite. I have little need for the latest and greatest device or app — I am far happier using my old tried-and-true technologies. But since Covid arrived, everyone has had to embrace some of the latest advances, Luddites included. At the peak of the first wave, Apple and Google collaborated on a contact tracing app, to allow better tracking of people who may have come into contact with a Covid carrier. Since then, there have been many advances, including the latest apps which alert you when you are within 20 feet of someone who is currently Covid positive.

Brian joined us and grumbled, “I’m not installing that crrr…app. Another government tracking device. Next week they’ll want to inject tracking devices into our brains.”

Actually, injected tracking devices had been proposed and then thoroughly rejected by everyone from the ACLU to right-wingers.

Brian continued his rant, “I don’t want Covid any more than you do, but I’m not giving up my freedom in the process.”

Brian and Amanda are both restaurant workers, he a talented cook and she a fabulous pastry chef. Both had been laid off for weeks after the outbreak. Fortunately, people still wanted restaurant food, so cooks remained in demand, while many front-of-house staff remained laid off. Many restaurants closed, and still to this day, many people refrain from dining in, opting instead for the curbside pickup we came to enjoy during isolation. Most of us never got used to seeing the waitstaff wearing facemasks and gloves. It’s fine at the grocery store, but not in a restaurant.

Amanda poked at Brian, “He looks so good in his facemask — it barely covers his beard. But we are glad to be back to work. It’s so much less stressful without as many diners and less waitstaff. They’re nicer to us now too.”

Hearing a roar on the TV, we watched the Packers kick a field goal to make a Lions loss seem inevitable. I met Lisa in the kitchen for more dinner prep. Betsy and Sarah were refilling their wineglasses and nibbling appetizers.

“”How do you like your new school routine?” Betsy asked Sarah.

Sarah teaches 7th grade English. It had been tough enough getting middle schoolers to pay attention in the classroom. When schools closed during isolation, teachers were forced to offer online lessons, often with little guidance or support from the schools. Predictably it did not go well. Without knowing whether they would be in classrooms in the fall, schools and teachers spent the summer developing lesson plans they could deliver in class, online or both. Turns out it was both. Some schools tried restarting with full classrooms only to encounter new outbreaks of Covid, forcing more isolation. Some schools proposed various ways to reduce classroom sizes, but this proved difficult and ineffective. In the end, the only workable solution was to provide weekly Covid tests to every student, and for any Covid-positive student to isolate at home, with online schooling provided for those well-enough to participate.

“Well, it hasn’t been easy, but we’re finally getting into a rhythm with everything. I love the smaller classes and the teachers are finally getting the support we need. And I like my bigger paycheck too!”

The teaching profession had been under-appreciated for years before the pandemic. Class sizes had increased, pay and benefits had decreased, and there were disputes about curriculum and testing. When it was time for teachers and students to return to school after that first summer, many teachers quit their jobs, some because of the new teaching methodologies, some because they probably didn’t want to spend all day in a petri dish with the students. Governments had been forced to collaborate to transform the education system, and to increase teacher pay and benefits to attract enough teachers. Sarah and her fellow teachers were much happier now.

I basted the turkey again, and it was almost done. Lisa had the stuffing in the oven and the potatoes boiling. She kissed me and sent me out to watch the end of the game. Midway through the 4th quarter and the Lions were driving. Just like them to make us think they had a chance. Philip and Devin stood next to me, ignoring the game.

“How go the wedding plans?” I asked.

“Pretty good, I guess,” Philip replied. “We’ve had to change a lot of things, but we think we’ll have a good party.”

The pandemic had been disastrous for their wedding plans. They were engaged before the pandemic and had not yet set a wedding date when it started. They had been laid off from their jobs for weeks and the financial hit delayed any thoughts of a wedding date. The concept of weddings had also taken a hit, along with all our other beloved gatherings, from graduations to birthday parties. There is no way to socially distance while celebrating, at least not how we usually celebrate. After delaying their plans for over a year, they finally set a wedding date for next spring.

Devin added, “It was hard to find a venue because of all the delayed weddings, but we found a great place with an opening that works for us. The wedding will be smaller than we were originally planning, but we are so happy to finally be getting married.”

I quipped, “I hope I’m still on the invitation list!”

They laughed and Philip said, “Of course you are. We want to see your dance moves!”

This is quite funny as I am notably lacking in ‘dance moves’. Hearing another roar, we looked over to see that the Lions scored to make it 24–21 Green Bay, but with only 4 minutes left in the game, the Packers could probably run out the clock.

Caty came up to us with another plate of appetizers. “Want some baked brie bites? With raspberry jam? Careful, they’re hot.”

“Thank you very much — that’s one of my favorites.”

Caty had just graduated from college, having completed her senior year via online classes. When the crisis hit, colleges were forced to immediately close their campuses and move classwork online. The college experience (dorms, parties, stadiums, etc.) is almost completely incompatible with social distancing. In the fall, most colleges continued to offer classes online, with optional classroom sessions offered for these students who needed them. A true introvert, Caty opted to skip the in-person work, and she completed her degree online. College graduation used to be an important event, with masses of eager graduates outfitted in caps and gowns, to receive their diplomas in front of masses of adoring family members. But thanks to Covid, graduation had also moved online, and Caty skipped the ceremony in favor of enjoying a family gathering in her parents back yard. We made her cross the deck to receive her diploma and a handshake from the ‘dean’ (charmingly portrayed by her father Joe).

As I blew on my brie bite, the room erupted in cheers. The Packers had fumbled, and it was Lions ball with under 2 minutes remaining. Could the Lions pull this off? Or would they dash our hopes yet again? A few yards at a time, they worked the ball down the field. Finally, it was 4th down from the 6 yard line with 5 seconds left. This is it. Our QB drops back to pass, looking to the corner of the end zone. But he fakes the throw, scurries around the end, and lunges for the end zone. Touchdown! Lions win 27–24! And then there was joy in Lionville as we cheered and danced and clinked beer bottles, a celebration that Lion fans rarely enjoy. It was a Thanksgiving miracle added to our already wonderful Thanksgiving.

As the celebration waned, Lisa called out that we were nearing dinnertime, so everyone lined up at the bathrooms to wash their hands. The pandemic forced all of us to become germophobes and hypochondriacs, and we had all become religious about handwashing, both in frequency and thoroughness. It was particularly tough on people who were germophobes before the crisis, their hands now raw from too much washing and sanitizing.

Our now well-scrubbed mob descended on the kitchen, first oohing and aahing in appreciation as we presented the turkey and side dishes, then clamoring as it came time to serve. In addition to the essential turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes and gravy, everyone brought their favorite side dishes, representing decades-old traditions: green bean casserole, cheesy potatoes, cranberry sauce, and so many pies. Despite having stuffed ourselves with appetizers all afternoon, we would dine well.

After the hectic bustle to fill our plates and find our places at the table and pour the wine and settle the children, I stood at the head of the table and tapped my wineglass with a spoon. I grabbed hands to my left and right and squeezed them warmly as everyone around the table joined hands.

“I usually try to keep this short, so your food doesn’t get cold, but this year … your food is going to get cold. We have a lot to be thankful for.”

David shushed Ryan and pulled William back from his plate to keep him from licking gravy off the mashed potatoes.

“And I don’t usually bring God into it, but today I think we can all thank whatever God you speak to for keeping us safe through this crisis.”

Our family had been fortunate to mostly avoid Covid and blessed that no one in our entire extended family had needed hospitalization.

From the other end of the table, Lisa started to speak, but got out only “I love you all so much…” before tears overcame her. I fought off my own tears to continue.

“First, we must grieve those who have perished and help those who have been harmed by the pandemic. Despite the tragedy, because of the tragedy, the world is on a better path now than before. We must honor all who have suffered and sacrificed by doing everything we can to support progress along that path.”

“This has affected everyone, including all of us, in so many profound ways, emotionally, financially, spiritually. We must help each other recover, to adapt to each new normal as we come upon it, to once again find joy.”

Lisa regained enough composure to try again, “I want to thank all of you for doing the right things to stay safe and caring for each other. And thank you for everything you have done to help your father and me get through this. It was so hard being separated — I missed spending time together and doing all the little things we do together.”

I spoke a bit longer, offering thank you’s far and wide, while gripping the hands on either side of me until sweaty. I paused and scanned the loving group in front of me. Ryan and William were getting fidgety. Time to finish this up. I quoted the end of a poem I wrote at the start of isolation:

“When will we hug again?
Then there will be normalcy.
Then we will hug lovingly.
Then let us make it better.”

I finished with a toast, “To hugging, to normalcy, to loving, to making it better!”

I don’t know why we wait until dinner is served before we offer our prayers and toasts. I say this every Thanksgiving. But this year, we all thoroughly enjoyed our cold Thanksgiving dinner.