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    Main | If Only I Were Taller »
    Wednesday
    Nov212007

    Thanksgiving Is Coming? Great, I Can't Wait To Spend It, All The Way Out Here, In The Middle Of Nowhere...Alone...Again

    HDTBig.jpgThis is a letter Henry David Thoreau sent to his Aunt in November of 1846. At that time Thoreau was living alone on Walden Pond, which was 1.5 miles away from his family home.

    November 5, 1846

    Dearest Aunt,

    I want to thank you for your letter reminding me that Thanksgiving is fast approaching. It's funny that your letter was dated November 4th. I find it hard to believe that it found its way to my remote location so quickly. I'll assume it was dated, October 4th.

    My heart was a flush with your generous invitation to join you for Thanksgiving dinner, but alas I have to decline. Because you know that from this great distance, even if I left right now, I could never arrive at your door on time. If only your letter would have come sooner. I'm afraid that I will have to spend another holiday all the way out here in the middle of nowhere, alone, again.

    But do not feel bad for me dear Aunt. For I will have a feast of berries and tree bark when I recount what I am thankful for. And what am I thankful for? Let's see, I have my health, my very small and drafty house in the middle of the this savage infested jungle and....my health.

    Oh I will miss you and dear Uncle John this year. How I'd love to hear his stories of fur trapping. If only I was within a safe traveling distance. In fact, I'm so far out here that I'm not even sure I'm still in the United States or even on Earth. And if I am indeed on a different planet, there is no way I could get back in time for Thanksgiving. Pity, because I could use some of your muscle building treats. I guess these pants will just keep on getting bigger and bigger, which is fine, really; because out here in the badlands you need to be able to move fast to survive. Anything other than skin and bone would just slow me down.

    So again dear Aunt, I thank you for your belated invitation. I wish you all a Happy Thanksgiving, and I will use my solitude here in the dense and dangerous wilderness to write something meaningful. And if, dear Aunt, an animal should have me for their Thanksgiving dinner, please know that I died happy, even though if I had had some food I could have had the strength to fight, but I'm sure you tried to bring me some, but were too far away. Be well and chew slowly.

    All my love,

    Hank

    That Thanksgiving Thoreau did not starve or get eaten by wild animals. He was picked up by a carriage and taken the 1.5 miles to his Aunt's house for Thanksgiving dinner, where after gorging himself for 7 straight hours, he crapped his pants. 

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