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A Covid19 Thanksgiving
This Thanksgiving Day will be precisely the way we always celebrate, and paradoxically unique in the annals of the Quinn Family.
Our plans began several weeks ago when we realized that the large group of people we ordinarily invite for the Thanksgiving meal
were mostly holed up in their homes. (We live in a 55+ community.) They venture out occasionally, but have been socializing mainly in small groups. So, anticipating their reluctance to come over today, I was “uninviting” them; I realize some might still have wanted to come, but most would have been uncomfortable with the presence of so many people. (We were uneasy about it ourselves.)




Now I finally get it. How could I miss the obvious?
I love my job. I really do. Most of the time.
“What is satire if not a marriage of civil disobedience to a laugh track, a potent brew … that acts as a nettle sting on the thin skin of the humorless.” — Mona Eltahawy
Political commentators spend most of their days following the awful things happening in the world. Bad news, after all, is what dominates the news cycle.
A friend of mine from high school (“Betsy”) went to a near-Ivy League level college. And she deserved to; she’s extremely hard-working and an absolute genius. I admire her. She’s brilliant, she’s beautiful, and she apparently married well because she is now an assistant teachers’ aide at an elementary school library at her daughter’s school, and she lives very comfortably. She lives in Tracy, California (about an hour east of San Francisco), and is an extremely politically active Democrat. She posted the following on her Facebook page today (emphasis mine):
