Hallo, Calico Manx here wishing you a belated happy thanksgiving.
I’m not sentimental about thanksgiving. I’ve never felt the need to be with family on the fourth Thursday of November. I don’t even like turkey.
My third ex-wife loved thanksgiving. She would spend three days planning, prepping, and cooking a feast for a dozen friends and family while I hid in the garage. She allowed me my garage time, God bless her, and even made some tri-tip just for me.
I stayed in the garage through all the cooking and guest greeting and cocktails and appetizers. At some point, her stoner brother would show up and seek me out. He always brought a six pack of long necks to thanksgiving. We’d drink some, chat some, then he would go off to watch football in the den.
After we separated, my third ex-wife still invited me to thanksgiving dinner and was even willing to make me tri-tip (that woman was a saint, I tell you), but I turned down the invitation. I wanted to just be left alone, take the day off, and relax. Sometimes I worked on little projects. Mostly I just enjoyed the time. We don’t get much time on this earth. Might as well enjoy it.
This year, on the weekend after thanksgiving, I was drinking long necks with some American college kids on the beach. They had come to surf, swim, and hang out. They had broken from their families and built their own Thanksgiving tribe. They were trying to create tradition in their young adult lives.
I was trying to chat up a sweet blonde thing with my rugged worldly wisdom when I shocked her without intending to.
I can’t believe you hate thanksgiving! She squealed.
I don’t hate thanksgiving. I’m just not sentimental about it. I said feeling defensive. I don’t hate anyone or anything.
But you do, you do, thanksgiving is the most sentimental holiday there is. She said suddenly seeming wiser than her bikini clad blonde self.
What about Valentine’s day?
Kid’s stuff. Thanksgiving is the killer. More people travel for Thanksgiving than for Valentine’s Day. And what is Thanksgiving anyway? What are we celebrating? Religious extremists who left England, came to America, threw the Native Americans off their land, and learned to kill turkeys.
Then the blonde girl went on a full on rant about empire building, capitalism, individual greed, and the mediocrity of a market economy. As I listened, I found myself getting turned on and tried to figure out a way to get her to stop talking while seeming to still respect her.
In the end, I succeeded by not using words but through action. I simply started walking down the moonlit beach. She kept talking and I kept walking. When we got to a clump of palm trees, I made my moves. The old dog still has a few tricks.
This is Calico Manx signing off.