Thanksgiving is upon us. Family. Sometimes it's your own and sometimes it's not. This year, not. R and I are heading back to Philadelphia to spend the weekend with her crazy, evangelical Christian, Trump-voting parents and her brother and his family. The kids will be cute and the brother will be fine as long as he is able to forget that he's a priest. It will be dueling religions (Episcopalians vs Evangelicals) and incompatible politics. Me, I'm the anti-Zionist Jew whose parents always voted Democrat.
This should be a happy time, but I see a turkey and think only of its suffering in a too small cage 'til it's so fat it cannot stand.
I wish I had a river I could skate away on.
And, please, don't tell me to buck up. Send cash.