The Eighth Page

Phillipian Satire: Giving Thanks for Me

As I sat alone at my dining room table this past Thanksgiving, Covid-19 rampaging through the country, I looked at the empty seats around me and thought about this unusual Thanksgiving. Instead of wallowing in loneliness, I decided to look at the advantages of this situation. For example, I’m more than ecstatic to avoid all the dismal dinner conversations, if you can even label them as such. No more Uncle Joe loudly debating other family members, spewing chewed-up turkey and outdated political views across the table. No more Grandma Susan with her borderline racist comments and mixing up my sister and me! No more untamed toddler cousins stampeding around and under the table with the joy we all lost decades ago. No more family members eating their share but shirking clean-up duties with lousy excuses, like an achy joint or “cancer.” Next, with no one else to insist on a traditional meal, the menu is up to me. If turkey, stuffing, and mashed potatoes aren’t what you’re into, you finally have the option to enjoy leftover sushi that’s started moving again, ranch dressing, and whatever else is in the fridge. Finally, we can fully indulge ourselves this Thanksgiving. Seconds? Of course. Thirds? Definitely. Fourths? Questionable, but respectable. Fifths? Maybe I have a problem. All in all, I’ll miss the usual ragtag cast of characters around the table this year, but it’ll be a perfectly fine Thanksgiving for just my dog, a life-size Chuck Bass cardboard cutout, and, most importantly, myself.