A Covid Thanksgiving

How can I be grateful when there was no Halloween this year? No haunted houses to plan and decorate. No parade of colorful costumes as the children go house to house trick or treating. No Halloween costumes or props to buy to scare the children with as they knock on my door begging for candy. No need to buy candies to give. No festively spooky Halloween parties to look forward to or host. Another thing that the Covid pandemic has taken away from me.

As I glance out the window my eyes fill up with tears as I Notice the For-Sale sign on Donald’s front lawn. Donald, my old friend, my partner in crime, as my wife and I jokingly referred to him.

Growing up, most of the kids my age thought I was weird because I enjoyed being alone drawing and making up monster stories. I did not get along with most children.

Donald and I lived near each other. At first, we did not get along well. We always pranked each other. He would make my life a living hell, and I guess I did the same to him. 

Days before Halloween our parents sat us down and told us that if we wanted to go trick or treating, we had to go together. Reluctantly, we agreed.

I proudly wore my homemade Frankenstein costume and Donald dressed up as a blond vampire with some plastic fangs that kept falling out of his mouth every time he tried to talk. I can see us now running around the neighborhood trick or treating. Knocking on doors yelling “Trick or treat!” Blending in with other kids and returning back for more candy to those houses we had already been to. 

Then we knocked on old man Myer’s house. Mr. Myer had been a dentist and he loved to decorate the stairs leading to his front door with demonic looking jack-o-lanterns that he personally carved. Each demonic face was lit up by battery operated lights. Hanging above his doorway was a raggedy looking old bat. Every year was the same type of decoration.

As Mr. Myer opened the door we yelled “Trick or Treat”, then Donald’s fangs popped out of his mouth, almost falling to the ground. “I see I have a couple of scary monsters knocking at my door,” said Mr. Myer, dropping a red toothbrush into my bag. Then Mr. Myer directs his gaze at Donald saying, “I wouldn’t want you to lose your teeth from all that candy you collected.” Then he drops a blue toothbrush into Donald’s bag and closes the door. 

Angrily Donald grabs a pumpkin and lifts it over his head “Don’t!” I yell at him, “I have an idea, but it will cost us some of our candy. I will explain my plan to you on the way home. Let us take that scary looking pumpkin with us.” As we headed home, I explained my crazy plan to him. As he turns to go home Donald looks at me and with a mischievous grin says. “I’ll meet you across the street from Mr. Myer’s house.” 

I head into the garage where I place the pumpkin inside my old rusty red wagon. Then I grab dad’s toolbox, two old walkie talkies, a spool of fishing wire, some old masks, gloves, clothes, and couple of empty bags and place it in the wagon. Then I cover it all up with an old painter’s tarp.

Dragging the wagon behind me, I run into Donald dressed as a soldier carrying a backpack and holding a bag full of candies. 

“Did you get everything we needed?” he asks.

In my most impressive soldier routine, I respond” Yes, Sir!” and salute him. 

Giggling like two young schoolgirls, we drag the wagon across the street from Mr. Myer’s house and sit down to finalize our plan. Donald takes out toys, clothes, and some rubber masks out of his backpack and dumps them into the wagon. He then grabs the walkie talkies and passes one to me saying, “Call me if anything comes up.” Refilling his backpack with the toys, he grabs his backpack and his bag of candies and heads out to start his part of phase one of our plan.

Meanwhile, I start setting up camp across the street from Mr. Myer. I call over the first set of trick or treaters that visit Mr. Myers, trading candy for the toothbrushes that Mr. Myer had given them. Many hesitated in trading with us, but when we explained our plan they gladly traded and offered to help us.

Using the clothes and masks, we took turns going back and forth multiple times to the different houses collecting candy, using the candy and the toys to trade with the second batch of our fellow trick or treaters for the toothbrushes. Once we had amassed enough toothbrushes, we began phase two of our plan.

With the kids that we had previously recruited, we quietly sneak across the street to Mr. Myer’s house to exchange the hanging old raggedy bat for the newly decorated jack-o-lantern. After a few minutes of preparation, we were ready to set our plan into motion. Having previously instructed the kids to grab one of the other jack-o-lanterns, I directed them to surround the house and wait for the appropriate signal. It’s time to set the plan in motion,

I knock on the door, then hide behind a parked car.  

Mr. Myer comes out and stars fearfully at the demonic ghostly jack-o-lantern with a mohawk made out of toothbrushes floating in front of him.

The creature's body quivers and shakes as it speaks to him.

“Trick or treat…"

“Trick or treat!”

“WHERE IS MY TREAT??? I’ve come for sweets…where are my sweets?” as the empty bag that the creature is holding begins to rise.

“I…I don’t have any sweets," Mr. Myer fearfully stutters. 

“NO SWEETS?" Donald tries not to laugh as he speaks into the walkie talkie.

"I call upon my brothers for vengeance.... I WANT SWEETS!!!"

Looking down at his stoop, Mr. Myer sees that the jack-o-lanterns are all gone.

When he turns to his left, he sees another floating demon starting at him from the window. Quickly closing the door, he notices another one staring at him from the right window. Going into the kitchen, he sees another one. Each one a carving he has made. Each one with a colorful horn. Running upstairs, he finds one in his room. Screaming, he hides in the bathroom.

Quietly laughing, the kids begin to quickly place all the jack-o-lanterns back in their spots with the toothbrushes forming horns in the jack-o-lanterns' heads.

The next day Mr. Myer emerged from the bathroom. Scared, he walks down the steps and finds the bat hanging in its normal place. As he turns to leave, he noticed a note pinned to the door. 

"Mr. Myer... You owe me sweets. If I do not get any the next, I see you, we shall come back for you."

The next Halloween there was no carved pumpkins, and no raggedy bats. Only Mr. Myer giving out candy by the tons to all trick or treaters.

Donald and I became good friends because of this. We were inseparable. 

“Hon,” Martha called snapping me out of my gloomy thoughts. “Are you okay?” 

“Yes, dear...” I lied. “I just saw the For-Sale sign on Donald’s front lawn."

“Ah, how sweet.” Teasing me, she adds, “You miss him just like I miss his wife. My sister and your friend, both victims of this virus."

“I just expect them to come knock on the door any minute.”

Just then, there is a loud knock on the door. Martha gives me a scared look. "Who could that be?" She asks. 

“I don’t know. Maybe Donald and Agnetha’s ghosts coming from the beyond to ask us to join them,” I sarcastically answer.

“Stop joking like that!” Martha angrily exclaims.  

There is a louder knock, followed by a deep voice coming from the other side of the door.

“Hello? Mr. Davis, are you in?” A cold fear runs through me as I realize that the only barrier between us and whoever is outside is a wooden door.

Peeking through the window, I see a tall UPS driver with two big boxes.  

Like a kid on Christmas day, I run towards the door yelling to Martha, “It’s here! It’s here!” 

“Who’s here, dear,” she asks.

“Robbie’s packages," I yell back as I struggle to open the door.  

Opening the door, I notice standing before me is a tall, muscular UPS man wearing his “Black Lives Matter” face mask. Realizing that I forgot my mask, without skipping a beat I quickly grab the mask I keep in the small hallway table drawer. I can hear Donny arguing with me “Having to wear masks, gloves, social distancing. Yet another reason we should call this pandemic the Corona Virus anti-humanity campaign.” 

"Mr. Davis?" He asks. 

“Yes?" 

“I have these two packages for you. Ma'am...I mean sir.” 

That is when I realized I was wearing Martha’s pink floral mask.

With the UPS agent’s assistance, we excitedly carry the boxes into the living room. As I sign for the packages, the UPS guy lets out a chuckle before leaving.

Like a child, I tear open the first box as my mind replays the last phone call I had with Robbie.

“Hi, Dad, give my love to Mom. How are both of you doing? Suzie, the kids, and I are all doing well. As you already know the Canadian border is closed so we can’t come over for Thanksgiving dinner this year.”

I let out a deep sigh as I remember that this is yet another thing this pandemic has cost me.  

"But that's not the reason I'm calling. I have sent you and mom a couple of packages. Please be on the lookout for them. They should arrive within the next few days. Call me when you get the first package for the instructions. Ok, love you and have fun."

Instructions? What could it be that he sent us? The first box contains different sized clothing, all in numbered see-through plastic bags.

Not finding any notes or clues as to what these items are for, I tear open the second box. The second box contains some empty plastic bottles, plastic pipes and some pieces of wood, also numbered. What is all this junk for? 

This has to be a mistake. They accidentally delivered us two boxes of junk. Grabbing my cell phone, I dial Rob.

“Hello!” says Rob’s familiar voice. 

“Hey, son. We just got the two boxes. I opened them, one has clothes, the other one is full of junk."

Chuckling, Rob says, “Dad, I told you to wait for instructions. No, it’s not junk, just leave all the items in the boxes and in their respective numbered bags. They are numbered for a reason. In the next few days, you are going to receive more packages. Call me when you get the box of 100 pool noodles."

In the next couple of days more boxes were delivered or should I say junk. Boxes with partial metal boxes with numbers and letters etched on them. Boxes of screws, wires, small pipes of different sizes, wheels, all with numbers on them. The living room was transformed into a sea of boxes full of junk. But no pool noodles. Every time a box arrived, I called Rob.

“Son. Can’t you tell me what all this junk is for? What is all this about? Why is this so important?"  

“Dad, trust me. Once the pool noodles get there let me know.” 

More boxes full of junk kept coming, filling up every corner of the living room. Then a week before Thanksgiving, the pool noodles arrived. Opening the box and examining the noodles, I did not see anything special about them. 

Quickly, I dialed Robbie. “Son, it arrived. Finally, the living room looks like a junk yard with all those boxes full of junk. Your mother and I are at our wit's end trying to figure out what all this garbage is for.“

“Good, I was waiting for that. I am going to send my old college friends, Mike and Raul, to the house today. They will start working on that stuff. They will use the dining room as their workplace. There will be more boxes coming as well. But don’t worry. They should be done by Thanksgiving." 

A few minutes later, the doorbell rings. Answering the door, I see two tall identical looking men in identically clad trench coats. “Hi,” says the first one. “I am Michael, and this is my twin brother Raul. Robert asked us to come over. He said he had a project for us to do.”  

I direct them to the living room. Upon looking at all the stuff Raul says, “Wow. What a bunch of junk.” 

Michael says, “Ok, this is a lot of stuff. But we will try to get it done by Thanksgiving.“

Raul mutters under his breath, “But we are not sure we can do it by then.” 

Laughing, Michael says, “Where are we working at?” I point them towards the dining room. 

Michael - or Raul - went to the van and came back with a bunch of large empty plastic tubs while the other one rummaged through the boxes.  

Lining and numbering the tubs, he turns to me and my wife and asks us to help them in separating everything into the tubs numerically. Martha, myself and Raul spent most of the days separating the items, while the other brother was in the dining room preparing the area and arranging their tools. 

For the next couple of days, Michael and Raul locked themselves in the dining room, only coming out to eat, sleep or use the restrooms. They would take the full tubs into the dining room and come back out to get another one. Day in and day out, they worked through the night, with the occasional rest period.

The clutter in the living room slowly started to clear out. On the day before Thanksgiving, Martha was in the kitchen cooking when we got a knock on the door. It was the UPS driver with two more boxes. The twins drag them into the dining room.   

Raul says, “This is the last of the stuff that we need. We should be done tonight.” As I look out the door, I notice that Donald’s house has been sold. I wonder who bought it.

Thanksgiving Day…

Martha spent most of the morning preparing the Thanksgiving meal, while I paced back and forth wondering what the twins were doing with all that junk. 

Michael and Raul come out of the dining room. Michael says, “We are done!“ Raul adds, “As per Robert’s instructions, we need to blindfold you before you go into the dining room.” 

Taking out a handkerchief from his pocket, Michael covers my eyes and then leads me into the dining room, as Raul does the same to Martha.

Carefully he helps me to sit in chairs at the dining room table. Silently we wait. Then after a few minutes we hear Robert’s voice say, “Dad, Mom….you can remove the blindfolds now.” Removing the blindfold expecting to see Robert, I am surprised to find some beautifully dressed artificial created beings with glowing tablets for heads seated at the dining room table. 

Across from us is a giant screen pressed up against the other end of the dining room table. The screen is showing an image of a table identical to ours which gave the room the illusion that the table is coming right out of the screen.  

Then the glowing tablets begin to ring as Michael and Raul turn them on. Tears fill my eyes as I see my son seated at the other end of the screen. “Surprise," he says. “Since we couldn’t come down to see you, we all decided to have a video Thanksgiving from our respectful places. Don’t worry mom, we decided to all cook the same thing you did, thanks to Michael and Raul acting as our spies. Oh, by the way dad, I heard Donald’s house was sold." 

“How did you know? I just saw them putting up the sign a few minutes ago.” 

Laughing, he says, “Once the Canadian border opens up, where do you think I would want to move to?"

Martha invites Raul and his brother to join us for the thanksgiving feast. 

Looking around at all the smiling virtual faces of my family and their friends this Thanksgiving Day, I now realize that I do have a lot to be thankful for.