Thanksgiving has a long tradition of being a family holiday. In spite of the jokes about the terror of sitting down with family members whose humor or politics we don’t appreciate, Thanksgiving is still the holiday when we are most likely to travel to be with friends and family. We brave crowded airports, and we wrestle with traffic, while we pray the weather doesn’t make it worse.

This Thanksgiving I chose to go it alone. I’m dealing with a health issue that ruled out air travel and driving a bunch of hours wasn’t appealing either. Hosting a holiday dinner this year would also have been problematic. As a single man in his 70s, staying home this year just made sense. Please don’t write me to say, “Had I known, you could have come here for Thanksgiving!” I am well aware that had I put the word out, hundreds, if not thousands of Nolensville residents, with its abundance of small-town charm, would have invited me into their homes.  But I really wanted to try something different. I decided to fly solo for Turkey Day this year.

Naturally, I started my adventure by sleeping in. I had decided a few days ago to have breakfast at Cracker Barrel, hoping there would be a roaring fire to see and praying that the host wouldn’t seat at a table that gave me a glimpse of what millions of turkeys were going through.

Well, my day started off lucky. I was escorted past the blue/orange flames caressing the logs, to a nice table. The restaurant wasn’t as crowded as I expected, but there were enough customers to keep the staff constantly moving at something less than a trot.      

From my table, I could see other diners, mostly families of five or six. There were also a good number of older couples, many of them seemingly unaware that they had someone they could have a conversation with, seated opposite them. Cell phone addiction doesn’t discriminate against any age group.

In spite of the lack of conversation at most of the tables for two, the people at larger tables seemed animated. Not having eaten at Cracker Barrel for a long while, I realized I had forgotten how loud it gets. I considered turning down my hearing aids, but the mere possibility of overhearing a gossip tidbit about, say, the new world order was too tempting.    

I kept my order simple; eggs bacon grits and biscuits. Every morsel tasted just right, and the server was not only pleasant, she kept the coffee coming. While I waited for my food to arrive, I indulged my cellphone addiction reading emails and texts filled with Happy Thanksgiving messages from longtime friends, most of them still ensconced in Northern New Jersey.

A few days before the holiday, I made reservations for dinner at four o’clock at Mere Bulles, a fine restaurant located in Brentwood, Tennessee the next town over from Nolensville. I was seated right on time at a nice little table next to a window that overlooked a courtyard. I expected a very different crowd. I was wrong. Most of the patrons looked a lot like the breakfast crowd at Cracker Barrel. There were a lot of men with cropped gray hair, wearing chinos and tennis shoes. (Southern term for sneakers)

 Maybe there were more women of a certain age with frosted hair, but they dimmed the lights for some reason at 4:30 so it might have been my imagination. I did notice there were a good number of folks sporting wheelchairs or walkers. One guy carried a portable oxygen concentrator.

I’m not drinking alcohol right now, but I made a mental note for future reference. Mere Bulles offers one of my favorite bourbons, Elmer T Lee. This place was also loud. I’m pretty sure I was the only party of one. In fact, the woman who took my reservation over the phone seemed perplexed by my party of one request. She called me the day before the event to confirm. Maybe she hoped I would rustle up a date at the eleventh hour.   

I dressed up a little for dinner. what we would have been called business casual, dress slacks and a button down lightly starched shirt. I’m not sure, but these days such attire might pass for semiformal wear. Some of the customers did dress up for the occasion, men wearing jackets and ties, women in pretty dresses. Others might well have come there directly from Cracker Barrel. 

My server, Tiger, (like the animal, he said) told me he’s working a double. I asked him if he stood to make $1,000 for his long day’s work. He was very hopeful. It’s been years since I worked as a waiter while in college, but I considered letting the manager know that in a pinch, I could fill in. 

The service was good. I chose the turkey dinner with lots of traditional sides. I took home a slice of pumpkin cheese cake for dessert. Perhaps not homemade, but everything was good.

All of this was offered at a fixed price of $57. 99 for dinner. I don’t know but it felt like $58 to me. 

Did I have a good day? Not exactly, but spending time alone has its advantages even on holidays. Quiet contemplation and focusing on pleasant memories can be at least as rewarding as watching another Lions -Bears football game. Maybe more so.

There were some people I missed, family, friends and some who are no longer in my life, but the effort gave me confidence that better days are just over the horizon. I’m recovering nicely and next year who knows? Maybe for Thanksgiving I’ll host a bash and invite you over. Pick up some Elmer T. Lee and we’ll toast the joy of living.