Thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving (you know, to American folks, just sort of a generalized happy Thursday to the rest of the world).

I am off having my traditional thanksgiving pizza (year seventeen and counting, and I do not regret it one bit) and staying offline this week. And I sincerely hope that you are all tucked up safely at home (with folks you generally share air with, not out swapping germs with new folks, this is not the time to swap germs) and getting some rest too.

I know some of you are really missing your people, and I want to say thank you to every single person who is staying away from other people right now in an effort to keep themselves and everyone else safer. I know it’s hard. I know you’re tired of it. I’m sorry it’s necessary. And I’m so proud of you for doing it. (And if you’re one of the folks for whom this holiday has always been more of a chore than a celebration, and you’re actually sort of glad to have an excuse to skip it this year, I see you too…I hope you have an absolutely LOVELY day and maybe even start a new trend of doing what you want on holidays!)

And thank you also to everyone who is going to work right now because they have to to keep the rest of us safe. Medical folks and delivery people and grocery store workers and sanitation workers and agricultural workers and countless numbers of other folks are out there putting themselves in danger to make sure we have the services we need right now. The least the rest of us can do is limit our exposure as much as we can (and make an extra effort to be kind to the folks we encounter when we absolutely have to be out).

And if you’re one of the folks out there intentionally risking yourself and others to get together or go shopping this holiday? Well, all I can say is I hope you someday realize your mistake. And I hope you realize it soon enough that the only consequence you face is knowing what an ass you were and feeling terrible about your choices (rather than getting sick yourself, giving it to your loved ones or the staff at your mom’s nursing home or the teacher at your kid’s school or the clerk at your grocery store, and spending the rest of your life knowing that your selfishness contributed to the suffering and death of others). There’s still time to make better choices.