Nothing was fishy this Thanksgiving

I trust you had a lovely Thanksgiving.

We had a nice day, notwithstanding CDC guidelines urging restricted gatherings.

Obviously, it wasn’t the traditional festivity since we celebrated the day in isolation.

My wife was clearly upset, not being able to be surrounded by family, so I tried my best to be supportive by feigning sadness.

She’s used to celebrating Thanksgiving with a house filled with grandkids, so she took the seclusion hard. I felt sympathy for her, or for that matter, anyone deprived of crying and screaming children on such a special day.

But I try to look on the bright side. Like enjoying a day of uninterrupted football.

In the past, it wasn’t possible to watch the games because my wife has a strict rule about turning on the TV when company is present. That would be a fair and reasonable dictate if you were watching anything else, but she hasn’t been able to come to terms with the fact that football has become a Thanksgiving tradition no less central than turkey and stuffing.

Instead of the usual giant turkey, we only had a small rolled breast from Costco. It meant my wife wasn’t able to fill it with her traditional crab and oyster dressing, a family recipe handed down through generations. She would jam the mixture into the cavity, and by the time the turkey came out of the oven, it tasted like fish.

Given the dearth of family members, my wife made sure she called everyone to convey her blessings, a noble and honorable gesture, only she insisted I also get on the phone to add my regards, an unreasonable demand considering there are some two dozen relatives and only 13 minutes of halftime.

She read my reluctance to spend time on the phone with the in-laws as evidence that I don’t love them. It’s an unreasonable criticism, although, in fairness, a person who converted to kin by virtue of a marriage is not exactly the same as a blood relative. It’s similar to the difference between, say, a traditional roast turkey and one that has morphed into seafood.

But to suggest I don’t love my in-laws is hurtful given the lengths I go through to demonstrate my affection.

Take her aunt Filomena from Palermo. She was planning to visit us for the holidays, which meant Thanksgiving, Christmas, and possibly Columbus Day, but because of the pandemic, plus my immeasurable love and devotion, I was able to talk her out of it.

What greater example of love and selfless dedication is there than the inexhaustible effort I extended in order to convince her to stay away? My wife and the CDC should be proud.

And this wasn’t just a simple stay-sixfeet-away kind of love. This was a heartfelt stay-six-thousand-miles-away expanded adoration.

And so we had to spend Thanksgiving Day bereft of family and left with only football and turkey.

Also mashed potatoes with gravy, cranberry sauce, a green bean casserole, homemade cornbread, and pumpkin pie.

So I tried to make the best of it.