Pandemic Thanksgiving

At Robin's

 Typically, I go with Joe to visit his family in Memphis at Thanksgiving. His aunt and uncle host Thanksgiving dinner. Joe's sister lives in Memphis, and his brother comes up from Louisiana. He has a cousin with a husband and kidskin Memphis, and her sister, also with a husband and two kids comes from Austin. Other cousins sometimes show up from Buffalo, Portland, Boston and Eureka. We drive to Pittsburgh, catch a plane, change at Atlanta or Charlotte, stop for lunch, and land in Memphis where we rent a car and drive to a hotel. We spend time with family, brunch at his cousin's, we go to a bar part-owned by Joe's sister and we try out several restaurants.

This year, the CDC said not to go anywhere because of a spike in novel coronavirus cases all over the country. My sister Robin invited us to visit in Greenbelt, Maryland, a bit more than two hundred miles from Morgantown. I had my doubts, but Joe was anxious to get out, and my sister, after she had invited us, suffered a back injury and needed our help. 

So we went. Instead of stopping at a restaurant for lunch, we packed sandwiches and fruit, and ate lunch in the car at a rest stop. We stopped at three rest stops on the way.

Greenbelt is a progressive city in Prince George's County, outside Washington, D.C. The rules there are that you can't be out of the house without a mask. I went out to run in the morning and Joe and I walked in the evening. People approaching us moved into the street to maintain six feet of distance from us.

Robin had picked out our menu, which, of course, included turkey. I have not eaten any meat since late March, when there were coronavirus cases at meat-packing plants, and the companies (and the United States government) seemed to think it was good that people were dying, because at least we had meat on the table. I could have lived on the plentiful side dishes, but I went for the turkey just these few days. 

We did go out Friday with a shopping list for the Co-Op, a locally owned grocery, a check to cash at the bank, and we stopped to have the tires checked on the car, since the tire light had gone on as we neared Greenbelt Wednesday. We had them change the oil as well. We were out for about two hours, not near anyone. Robin and Joe played scrabble and we watched "Jeopardy" together. We did housework for Robin also, and helped prepare meals with her. I read a book and kept up with social media. Robin put up pictures of us, usually eating. On Friday night, Joe's online Shabbat service was from Robin's dining room table, and he ran Saturday morning Torah service from Robin's little office. 

We packed up and left Sunday, with sandwiches, fruit and a cookie in a bag for lunch. I thought Robin was trying to delay us. She said over and over how much she appreciated our being there, and how her back was felling better.

I was nervous about traveling at all, but the traffic was light, and we didn't hang out with lots pf people. In fact, Greenbelt is safer than Morgantown because people are all masked and socially distanced. People take the coronavirus restrictions seriously. I don't always get that impression in Morgantown. I resented my sister's bossiness at first, but I found my compassion after a while. She needed help, and she is the only one who knows what it was like growing up in my parents' house.

We got back yesterday afternoon. We unpacked, I took a short nap while Joe made dinner, and I went out for groceries, where I had to complain about an unmasked employee and tell a few people that the mask has to be over your nose. Today (Monday) I'm overtired, but still managed to run this morning. One day, I'm going to have to take it easy, as befits my advanced age. I don't think I was exposed to coronavirus this trip. 

I'm glad we went, and I understand why people chafed under the recommendation to stay home. We didn't take a big risk, and it was great just to be away for a time.

Thanksgiving, Memphis, 2016

There is a new, semi-secret group on Facebook called "Pantsuit Nation." It's mostly women and mostly Hillary Clinton supporters. A Morgantown friend from California, who moved back to California last summer, added me to the group. There is also a West Virginia chapter. Most of the posts are from people who have been victims of hate crimes and discriminatory behavior. Often, posters ran out of a family Thanksgiving dinner because of something awful a parent or sibling said to them. It might have been a racial comment, or a refusal to accept the poster's same-gender spouse.

Joe and I are lucky, or perhaps blessed. I have one cousin who, from what I hear, is a big Republican. That cousin hasn't spoken to me since my mother's death nearly fourteen years ago. Just as well. Neither Joe nor I have political issues with our closest family members. We are always treated respectfully. We are all distraught about the 2016 Presidential election.

It was my sister's turn to have us for Thanksgiving this year, but there were complications, both for her and for us. Joe wanted to attend his family's grand Thanksgiving dinner in Memphis. We drove 210 miles to Greenbelt, Maryland Sunday and had a pre-Thanksgiving meal with my sister, her son and his fiancée. My nephew then went off to his girl's parents in Ohio, and, as a bonus, they left their sweet dog with my sister, where I was able to spend time with him.

We scored a non-stop flight from Baltimore to Memphis Tuesday, stayed at a suburban motel (with one free night), and rented a car. Although we asked for the cheapest, smallest car available, we left the lot in a gorgeous cherry-red 2017 Dodge Challenger with a hemi engine. I became fond of the car.

Joe's aunt and uncle and sister in Memphis have been great to me since I met them nine years ago, in what I see now as a ritual, bringing your new significant other for the family's inspection. Joe and his late mother were the oldest in his family, and I am older than Joe, so the "old" aunt and uncle are not much older than  I am. We were nineteen family members at Thanksgiving.

A cousin's husband is an executive with the Memphis Grizzlies, so we spent Friday at a basketball game. We ate at many restaurants, mostly on Joe's uncle's dime. We saw a few movies, including "Loving" about an interracial couple arrested for being in love. We noted the connection to our non-traditional marriage.

Finally, we attended a rally against hate, held in a once-abandoned church, where Martin Luther King, Jr. spoke in 1968, just before he was murdered. It's a beautiful place, almost literally falling down, a reminder of history and the passage of time. There were religious leaders of all stripes, including the rabbi from Memphis' Reform synagogue. There were speakers from immigrant communities, an LGBT center, the ACLU and Planned Parenthood. Memphis is a multi-cultural, largely African-American city in an overwhelmingly conservative state. People are frightened by the rhetoric of the incoming administration, the backward-looking picks for cabinet posts, and the liberty now felt by racists, homophobes and neo-Nazis to speak out. Older African-Americans have been through this before, The spiritual presence of Dr. King was there in that former church to give us all hope. I attended a Rally For Change here in Morgantown Wednesday night after we got back. That rally was more about enacting specific political change here.

I loved being in Memphis. In addition to Joe's extended family. I found the people outgoing and friendly. I felt more "at home" in Memphis and in Greenbelt, in Prince George's County, Maryland, where my sister lives, than I do in Morgantown.

Our congregation here in Morgantown is still lovely, and although the county voted majority for the Republican presidential candidate, there is a core of people of good will, who are willing to fight the hateful troglodytes who have come out of the woodwork since the election. Joe and I will live here for the forseeable future, and be activists for equality.We have no other choice.

We have already attended two meetings (today is Sunday, December 4) in the five days since we returned from Thanksgiving. The meeting Wednesday was political, the one today was an interfaith council. Things are in the works here.

We'll be off to New York for an extended visit at the end of the year. New York is another spiritual home for us.

With Joe on Beale Street

Brister Library at The University of Memphis

Singing along with the Hamples at Thanksgiving

Shelby County Courthouse

Joe and his sister at the pedestrian crossing of the Mississippi River, next to an old railroad bridge

Shelby Farms Park, east of Memphis

Rabbi Micah Greenstein speaking at the interfaith event in Memphis

Boyce-Gregg House, now The Community Resource Center

We are looking cool with our boss 2017 Hemi-powered Dodge Challenger

Thanksgiving 2015

We're back from Thanksgiving in Memphis. Joe's aunt (his late mother's sister) puts on a feast every year. Aunt "Nadly" as she is known, and Uncle Jimmy have two daughters, Molly in Memphis, Katie in Austin, Texas. Each daughter has a husband and a son and daughter. Aunt Nadly's two granddaughters are now sixteen; the boys are fourteen. Joe's sister Martha lives in Memphis; Joe's brother Henry often comes from rural southern Louisiana.

There is a cousin of Joe's mother and Aunt Nadly, known as"Anty," who comes from Buffalo, where the family started out. She has a married son and daughter. The daughter has two young sons; the son married last June and has a new baby daughter. Joe co-officiated at their wedding. Anty has two younger sisters. One is Marny, living in Humboldt County, California, who we saw often when we lived in Crescent City. She has a married son, Sascha, in Portland. We attended Sascha's wedding in Portland in 2012, a month after our move to Morgantown. Joe officiated. Anty's other sister, Annie, lives in Boston.

There is a tradition of people bringing their new "significant other" to Thanksgiving. I was that person in 2007. One year, Sascha came with his then-girlfriend Sara. This year, Molly's sixteen-year-old daughter brought her boyfriend. He is handsome and smart and put up with the silly games and the singing of old obscure songs. She seemed serious about him. He seemed too young to be in a serious relationship.

In my family, there is no older generation. Of this whole crew, I am closest in age to Joe, but closer in age to the old folks than to Joe's siblings and cousins. There is a fiction that everything is the same every year, but it's not. Most obviously, the children have gone from six and eight to fourteen and sixteen. As teens, the kids seemed less happy to be with family than they were as children.

We flew this year on Wednesday and Sunday, and while everything went surprisingly smoothly, this was physically hard for me. We arrived home by car from Pittsburgh airport at 1:45 A.M. We ate  unhealthy amounts of salt, sugar and fat, despite a relatively healthy menu on Thanksgiving Day.

My maternal grandparents, Nanny and Poppy to us, made Thanksgiving in New York just about every year. We got together with our Long Island cousins. My grandparents cut us off when I was eighteen and a freshman in college and they were seventy. They sold their New York house, and moved to a small apartment near Miami.

I don't remember details about those Thanksgivings, I only retain a warm glow thinking of my grandparents at this time of year. This year Thanksgiving was November 26, my Nanny's birthday. She would have been 118 this year. My parents, aunts and uncles are all gone, too. I have to rely on Joe's family for an older generation. I'm friendly with my cousins on my mother's side, but we don't routinely get together. I never see my father's family any more.

Next year, we will probably go to my sister Robin for Thanksgiving. She gets together with her son Evan and his girlfriend Kelli and a close friend of hers and her kids, one of whom has known Evan since preschool. Robin always laments when we go to Memphis that she and I are not together and with other family members.

This year, more than others, I felt the passage of time at Thanksgiving. I hope Joe's family can stay together, more than mine has, and that we'll be able to travel to Memphis again to be with them.

Joe, Martha and Henry sing out at Thanksgiving in Memphis