Thanksgiving weekends can be very long. For me, of course, they are often broken up by my birthday, which can add something to the otherwise idle stretch of time, but the holiday period can drag on, nevertheless.

When I was growing up, I remember we had a big Thanksgiving meal, followed by a day off of school where the main activity was eating leftovers, and then came the weekend, a weekend like others. Back in those days (1940s and 1950s), my memory of Thanksgiving was that it was a holiday that began when school let out after regular Wednesday classes. In those far off times, I don’t remember my friends doing much traveling. I guess that was in part due to the (or so I thought) relatively isolated location of St. Louis. I actually don’t remember any of my friends having grandparents outside of St. Louis; they were all there. And certainly no one had divorced parents with one of them having moved across the country to far away cities. So, everyone stayed put.

When I went to college a thousand miles away, I would come home for the Christmas break (that is what it was, no matter what you might have called it) and, I think, each year for Spring Vacation (maybe). It never occurred to me to come home for Thanksgiving. Today, I think, things are much different. People jump on airplanes and fly to Taipei and Bangladesh and Sydney for Thanksgiving. Not then.

(Of course, Thanksgiving no longer starts at 3:30 p.m. on Wednesday afternoon. Now, schools are closed on Wednesday, attendance is sparse on Tuesdays, and many families take off the entire week. Not then. At all.)

Each year (I think each year) of college, I had Thanksgiving dinner with many of my roommates at the house of one of theirs in Belmont MA. Always a good and warm time, with good food and conversation, and sometimes other guests). As I recall, nothing ever went to waste because one of my roommates would eat everything left on the table, much to the amusement/puzzlement of our hostess.

Things changed in law school. During my first year, I was invited to come from New Haven back up to Belmont. Not much of a schlep. I could get there in just a couple of hours, and my trusty 1964 VW was undoubtedly anxious to get on the road, but I declined (and declined a couple of other invites). I found law school to be a bit of a mysterious journey, and I didn’t feel like I had as of yet caught on, so I decided to stay in New Haven for the long weekend, and catch up on all of my class work.

Big mistake. New Haven (back then and to a great extent now) had a major university and (to me, at least) really nothing else. Very few people I knew lived there, and most were from other parts of the east coast, mainly the New York area, but also New England, Philadelphia, Washington and the like. Everyone was going home for Thanksgiving. (And no one was going to Taipei, Bangladesh or Sydney.) But I decided to stay.

After all, I figured, I wouldn’t be alone. There would surely be someone to have a nice Thanksgiving dinner with and spend some idle time with.

Wrong. I seemed to be it. Yale Law School had been abandoned. And, what is more, the entire city of New Haven seemed to have closed down, at least that part near the university. Needless to say, the following happened: (1) I got very depressed, and (2) I got absolutely no work done.

That year, 1964, Thanksgiving fell on my birthday; I was 22 years old. No one even wished me happy birthday.  Even with no one else around (all Yale food halls were closed), I thought I could pick up my spirits by going out for a nice breakfast, a nice lunch and a nice dinner. It would break up my day, I would see other people, and who knows what might happen. It never occurred to me that every restaurant within walking distance, including those places where you got a cup of coffee and a pastry, would be closed. But they were. My breakfast, and my lunch, came from the Yale Law School vending machine room. And, no, these weren’t vending machines where you could get a sandwich or maybe soup you could microwave (what, microwave? what’s that?). These were candy bars, peanuts, and crackers. And, of course, while feasting on these treats, no one else came into the vending area. Obviously not. No one else seemed to be there.

As I remember it, Thanksgiving Day was also gray and very, very cold. And, at dinner time, it was very dark outside. But I was determined. I walked and I walked and I walked. And then…….an open restaurant. A Chinese restaurant (name forgotten, probably not there 61 years later) and it was open for business. I, it turned out, was their business. No other customers all the time I was there.

When Friday came, things started to improve. Restaurants and shops were open, there were cars on the street, and one-by-one people began to return to campus.

Lesson learned.