The last time there was a presidential election two weeks before Thanksgiving, I had just finished chemo. Michael and I chose to spend that long weekend of giving thanks giving thanks that I was alive on a sandy island in the middle of a warm sea. With each other but otherwise alone. I’m beginning to think that this is a solid approach to handling a diverse set of perspectives so close to an election around a Thanksgiving table, because I just got the email from my cousin reminding all of us that POLITICS WILL NOT BE DISCUSSED AT MY HOUSE ON THURSDAY.

In my extended family, no matter who wins, half the group is traumatized after a presidential election. And two weeks is too short of a time for anyone to be reasonable about it, so you end up having whispered conversations in the corner holding a bottle of bourbon with your known allies. And then you’re grateful not for each other, but for the fact that the mashed potatoes didn’t get flung anywhere. Seems like a waste of a plane ticket.

So, this Thursday, I’ll hug my family, hope for pleasant surprises, and start planning a Thanksgiving trip in 2020.

Happy Thanksgiving to you all. Good luck.

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