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She fell into QAnon and went viral for destroying a Target mask display. Now she’s rebuilding her life.
LivingNov 11. 2020Melissa Rein Lively, seen here at her home in Scottsdale, Ariz., went viral after an incident at Target. MUST CREDIT: Photo for The Washington Post by Dominic Valente
By The Washington Post · Travis M. Andrews · NATIONAL, FEATURES, HEALTH, POLITICS, SCIENCE-ENVIRONMENT, WHITEHOUSE, HEALTH-FEATURES The night before she almost ruined her life, Melissa Rein Lively couldn’t sleep.
She had gotten into a fight with her husband, Jared, and though they had never spent more than a few nights apart during their nine-and-a-half-year marriage, they both needed space. It had been a difficult few months. So here she was, alone in a hotel room on the night before July 4, her favorite holiday, one she and Jared traditionally spent in Greece. She felt trapped. And she couldn’t sleep.
“Every few minutes, I was gasping for air. I couldn’t slow my mind down. My thoughts were racing. It was like a panic attack on steroids,” Lively recalled. “I should have checked myself into a hospital voluntarily.”
Instead, she went to Target the next morning to buy a bottle of Fiji water, as if everything were normal. It wasn’t. The Scottsdale, Ariz.-based PR professional, a self-described “type A” personality, had spent the pandemic barely eating, barely sleeping, barely socializing with friends. Instead, “I was all consumed with doom-scrolling on the Internet. I was living in these conspiracy theories. All of this fear porn that I was consuming online was just feeding my depression and anxiety.” She had found comfort in QAnon, a loose collection of conspiracy theories that touch on everything from politics to covid-19.
En route to grab the water, she noticed a display of masks, the ones to help prevent the coronavirus. “The culmination of everything I had experienced, like all that energy, just zeroed in on the masks. And I just snapped,” she said.
She took videos of what happened next and streamed them on Instagram Live. They quickly spread to other platforms, reported on by publications such as USA Today. She was labeled a Karen – and far worse. She thought her career was over. She thought her marriage was over. She thought her life was over.
There’s an old bit of advice that the end of a story should be surprising yet inevitable. The Target incident almost perfectly encapsulates the adage, save for one important detail – Lively is adamant it wasn’t an ending. For 15 years, the 35-year-old worked to “put people in their best light, to put them on a pedestal.” Now she’s her own client. She has embarked on something of a media tour to tell her side of the story and is penning a memoir titled “You Can’t Cancel Me – The Story of My Life.”
She’s hoping to rehabilitate her own image, yes. This article, of course, is a part of that effort. But she also wants to help others who might find themselves in the same spiral.
You’ve probably seen the videos. According to Lively’s PR firm’s tracking software, more than 100 million people around the globe have. One version, which has more than 10 million views on Twitter, features a rack of facial coverings and Lively’s voice.
“Finally, we meet the end of the road. I’ve been looking forward to this,” she says, adding, “Target, I’m not playing any more of their games.”
As she tears the masks off the display and throws them at the ground, she repeatedly shouts expletives.
A later video shows her in the garage of her home, after her husband has summoned the police. She’s telling them that she’s the “QAnon spokesperson” and explains that she has been on the phone with President Donald Trump “all the time.” They detain her to bring her to a nearby psychiatric facility, as she yells, “You’re doing this to me because I’m Jewish.”
What you probably didn’t see was everything leading up that moment – and everything that happened after she became social media’s Villain of the Day.
As it has for so many, 2020 swallowed Lively in an “overwhelming tidal wave of loss and rage and grief and confusion.” It resurfaced trauma from her childhood in Denver that she had spent years hiding. She lost her mother at 14 to an overdose and her father eight years later, after he had a bicycle accident. But she never spoke about it, never went to therapy, never worked through it.
Meanwhile, work took a dark turn as covid-19, the disease caused by the coronavirus, hit the economy. “These are big corporations I work with, having to lay off hundreds of people, and I have to look people in the eye and try to communicate that in PR jargon,” she said, adding, “It kind of sent me in a tailspin, searching for answers.”
She found those answers in QAnon, which she discovered through some of the natural wellness and spirituality spaces she inhabited online. She spent her nights, then her days, scrolling through them as her mind wandered further away from reality.
“It basically purports to have all the answers to the questions you have. The answers are horrifying and will scare you more than reality, but at least you feel oddly comforted, like, ‘At least now I have the answer,’ ” she said, adding, “They tell you the institutions you’re supposed to trust are lying to you. Anybody who tells you that QAnon is is a bad guy, including your friends and family. It happens gradually, and you don’t realize you’re getting more and more deep in it.”
Kim Prince, the founder and chief executive of Proven Media, remembered worrying about Lively, who she knows through PR circles. Something seemed off.
“I observed a woman having some mental health issues,” she said, citing Lively’s strange online behavior. Later, when she saw the video, “I thought she broke. It was one foot in front of the other toward that. It wasn’t a complete shock. It was the natural progression.”
Lively remembers the lead-up, but she doesn’t remember what she termed a “mental breakdown episode” at Target, saying it was akin to being “blacked out.” Watching the videos now is an “out-of-body experience.” She has no idea what she was trying to say, either at the store or to the police.
“I was living in a fantasy land in my mind,” she said. “But I take full accountability. I know I scared a lot of people. I know I angered a lot of people.”
That anger became evident when she came home from a week-long involuntary hospitalization to hundreds of furious emails and phone calls.
“My messages would fill up every single day with people saying, ‘I hope you die. Please kill yourself. I’m going to come and kill you. I know you have two little dogs, and I just put a spell on them to make them die tonight,’ ” she said. “The most horrible things you can possibly imagine. I received instructions with pictures: ‘Here’s how you should kill yourself.’ “
Her husband, her husband’s business partners and even her hairstylist’s husband were getting threats. She was too ashamed to be seen in public.
“Her blessing is her curse,” Prince, noting Lively’s social media following, said. “If she weren’t such a great PR person, no one would have known about her breakdown.”
Ashley Anderson said she wishes the public knew more about her friend. When the investment banker first moved to Phoenix and didn’t know anyone, her son with special needs got very sick. Anderson had only known Lively for a couple weeks but asked for her help. Lively made several phone calls to doctors to get Anderson’s son seen quickly. During his three-week hospital stay, she frequently visited him and brought him gifts, Anderson said. “I barely knew this person, and that is how she treated my family, which I will never forget.”
But the public didn’t see this side of Lively. And she felt alone.
“You obviously learn who your real friends are fast. I found out that I didn’t have very many,” Lively said through tears. “This is why this whole cancel culture is so scary. What happens when a human being gets canceled? They don’t want to exist anymore.”
After trying to repair her marriage and figure out the help she needed, she attended an eight-week trauma program at the Meadows, a rehabilitation facility in Wickenburg, Ariz. She swore off QAnon. She sent an apology letter to the employees of Target. She started a YouTube channel to discuss topics like mental health and conspiracy theories. Finally, in mid-August, a former client called to hire her, the first since the incident.
“I was in bed, like not able to move. I had no reason to get up. Every day was Groundhog’s Day, with nothing going on,” she said. But after the call, “I got out of bed, and I was like, ‘There’s one person who still believes in me. I’m going to get up and put my shoes on and get my briefcase and go back to work. You can cancel me all you want, but I will not cancel myself.’ “
She became a PR professional to help people get their voices heard, to tell their powerful stories. “Ultimately, it’s in my nature to be a helper, and in the business of PR you have to have the kind of personality that is always willing to think big, do more and push harder.”
Soon thereafter, she received a call from Doc Elliot, who runs the California-based Phoenix Training Group, which conducts de-escalation training. He wanted to hire her, too. He wanted her to tell her own story.
“When I watched the video of Melissa, instantly my heart was breaking. I knew it wasn’t a typical incident where a so-called Karen goes off the rails,” said Elliot, a longtime mental health advocate. “And that fact that she was [later] owning that was, to me, brilliant.”
“Now, she has really taken on a different professional role, speaking about the mental health crisis we’re experiencing right now . . . rather than trying to sell a magazine or a company,” he said. “I really have to applaud her for that. She’s followed through on her message.”
Lively suggests anyone who’s detaching from life, a sign of mental illness, seek help. And if anyone witnesses someone doing the same, consider reaching out.
“My downfall was so spectacular . . . jaw-dropping shocking,” she said. But not everyone has to reach that point. If they do, though, she wants to be living proof of hope. “If I can come back from this, anybody can come back from anything.”
LivingNov 08. 2020Joe Biden and Kamala Harris supporters celebrate Saturday outside the Pennsylvania Convention Center following the victory of the President-elect, in Philadelphia. MUST CREDIT: Photo by the Amanda Voisard for The Washington Post
By The Washington Post · Chelsea Janes · NATIONAL, POLITICS, RACE
Rep. Barbara Lee began her political career on the campaign of the first Black woman to run for president, Shirley Chisholm, serving as one of Chisholm’s delegates to the 1972 Democratic National Convention.
Nearly fifty years later, Lee, D-Calif., watched as Kamala Harris name-dropped Chisholm at nearly every rally as a candidate for president and, later, the Democrats’ vice-presidential nominee. On Saturday, Lee celebrated as she learned that Harris is now the first woman elected vice president of the United States.
“I have been waiting and working for this moment. Shirley Chisholm paved the way for so many of us, including myself,” said Lee, who represents Harris’s hometown of Oakland. “She knew what the challenges were then in terms of racism, in terms of sexism. And also that we had to keep fighting, that this was a marathon, but sooner or later, the country would know what we knew about Black women.”
For many, Harris’s victory was as much a celebration of that marathon as it was of Harris herself – of those who came before as the one arriving now. Harris, the daughter of Indian and Jamaican immigrants, made such an acknowledgment at nearly every campaign stop she made. She evoked heroes from the civil rights movement and during the Democratic primary she nodded to Chisholm with the colors of her campaign merchandise – yellow, red and blue, the same as Chisholm’s – and emphasized the weighty piece of advice her mother gave her as a child.
“Kamala, you may be the first to do many things, but make sure you’re not the last,” Harris would often tell crowds, reciting the words of her immigrant mother, a breast cancer researcher at the University of California at Berkeley.
Harris is now the first Black woman, Asian American and graduate of a historically Black college or university to ascend to one of the nation’s two highest offices. Women across the country are now working to ensure she is not the last, celebrating not only the breaking of the glass ceiling, but of a ladder to and through it.
“We will see in 2021, 2022 and beyond a record number of Black women” running for office,” said Glynda Carr, co-founder of Higher Heights and a member of Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority, just like Harris.
“Her presence extends beyond those who voted for her,” Carr said of Harris. “She has forever changed the fabric of women’s political leadership, even for those who didn’t support her.”
Carr, whose organization supports women of color in politics, was usually organizing on election days past and had to mail in her ballot. This year, she ordered a pair of Chuck Taylors – Harris’s shoe of choice on the campaign trail – via overnight mail so they would arrive in time, laced them up Tuesday morning, and headed to the polls.
Some supporters were overwhelmed by emotion after learning that President-elect Joe Biden and Harris won the election. Former Democratic National Committee Chair Donna Brazile cried while commentating about Harris’s win on Fox News. CNN Commentator Van Jones wept openly about Biden’s win and the impact a Biden-Harris ticket could have on minority families.
Others found themselves unexpectedly moved.
“I did not think I would be this moved to see a black woman/south Asian woman/woman as Vice President. But I am. It’s so wonderful. My nieces know so much more is possible now,” tweeted author Roxane Gay, whose work often centers on race and gender.
Cable news cameras in the streets of Washington, New York and Philadelphia caught glimpses of women wearing shirts with Harris’s face on them. The Biden campaign has been selling them for some time, including one that features a picture of Harris as a little girl alongside the phrase “the first, but not the last.”
The sense of fresh possibility was also felt in the South Asian community. Although Nikki Haley and Bobby Jindal have risen to prominence in the Republican Party, the South Asian community took to Harris in an entirely different way, providing a major fundraising source and social media support.
“Representation only goes so far,” said Nik Dodani, and Indian American actor who was active in organizing that community in support of the Biden ticket. “Yes, we want our elected officials to look like us, but they also have to represent our values, and that is why Kamala D. Harris means so much to the South Asian community.”
Padma Lakshmi, the host of the television show “Top Chef,” said Harris brings a mix of backgrounds and experiences to the White House that have never been seen before.
“I’m 50 years old. It’s not been easy to be a person and woman of color in this country,” said Lakshmi, who was overcome with emotion talking about Harris’s rise.
“It’s very hard to wrap your head around what it’s like to be in someone else’s skin. And the psychological impact of that is so deep and so foundational . . . you still feel like a second-class citizen. You still feel a little bit like you don’t have the right to reach for the same things as your White counterpart or peer does.”
Lakshmi remembers her early days in television, when Sanjay Gupta was one of the few Indian Americans in prominent television roles and her White neighbors could hardly name more than a few South Asian actors. Now, she said, there are far more, rooting for one another as they carve out their place in American cultural awareness.
“It’s important to see ourselves represented in the American landscape and as part of the American narrative and as part of the American future,” said Aasif Mandvi, an actor and “Daily Show” correspondent who was born in India.
Actress Mindy Kaling tweeted: “Crying and holding my daughter. ‘look baby, she looks like us.’ “
Others hailed Harris’s victory as historic, but said far more needs to happen in a polarized nation that is grappling with a movement to end systemic racism, sparked by the deaths of numerous Black people at the hands of police in recent years.
“Very curious to see how media covers the historic election of Kamala D. Harris considering that white hostility toward the election of Obama is how we ended up with Trump,” wroteBree Newsom Bass, an artist and activist.
“A Black and Indian American woman named Kamala will be our Vice President. We are the first generation of Americans who will be able to respectfully say Madam Vice President,” writer Ibram X. Kendi tweeted. “Now let’s be the first generation of Americans to root out sexism and racism.”
Brazile said she thought Saturday morning about her mother and grandmother, Black women who did not have the right to vote.
“To be the last to get voting rights, to be those who just waited and waited for our turn,” she said.
Brazile reflected on the legions of women who paved the way for Harris, and the men who believed in them. Now, there has been a Black president and, soon a woman of color vice president.
“We have made this country what it said it was going to be, a country for all of us,” Brazile said, tears wet on her cheeks. “But this is a country that now has to get back to work. So I’m going to dry my tears and get ready to work.”
LivingNov 05. 2020A worshipper approaches the altar at the Cathedral of Sts. Peter and Paul in Washington on Wednesday, Nov. 4, 2020. MUST CREDIT: Washington Post photo by Michelle Boorstein
By The Washington Post · Michelle Boorstein · NATIONAL, POLITICS, RELIGION
WASHINGTON – Filled with emotion about America’s presidential election, Maria Mercedes Bejarano came twice Wednesday to the Cathedral of Sts. Peter and Paul.
In the morning, the 73-year-old walked from her home just to be near the place she calls holy, even though its cavernous, huge sanctuary was not yet open, to ask God whether the bright blue sky was an omen, “an alliance” and that President Donald Trump would be defeated. By afternoon she was on her knees, shuffling all the way up the long main aisle in a prayer of gratitude.
“I wanted to retrace my steps from four years ago,” when Trump’s election brought what the Colombian American said was a “chaotic energy.” “I want to show gratitude for divine mercy. I am a Latino. A grandmother. These four years have been too hard. Gratitude that this president will leave, God willing, God willing, God willing. And leave us to peace and a means to rebuild.”
A few miles to the north, Mary Suarez Hamm was saying a special prayer every hour with a group of other Catholics in hopes that Trump would remain the president and continue to pursue policies Hamm has devoted her life to – opposing abortion and same-sex marriage, and protecting religious legal rights.
“Through the intercession of Mary, Your holy mothers, I knock, I seek. I ask that my prayer be granted,” Hamm prayed. “Deliver us, O God of truth, from the belief that the Catholic Church is anti-Democratic, deliver us, from the belief that the United States was not founded on Christian principles.”
Hamm, retired from running a pregnancy center and working for the region’s archdiocese, took a break at 8:15 a.m. to attend Mass at Little Flower Parish in Bethesda, Md. She attends every day but by Wednesday. She was worried.
“What was on my mind was: Bring it to the good Lord. It’s easy to be downtrodden when things don’t go the way you want them to, but God knows what will happen,” she said.
Not that she thinks her prayers are magic. “It’s a silly old relationship between a child and a parent. When a parent says no, maybe it’s not meant to me. It’s for our best good.”
Worry, fear and stress led some Americans to find themselves in sanctuaries of different kinds Wednesday as the outcome of the country’s presidential race remained elusive. People prayed or meditated on potential outcomes. They looked for inner strength to deal with whatever happens. Although police in many U.S. cities had braced for a Wednesday of protests and even potential violence, instead the streets remained quiet and many were looking for spiritual guidance in that silence.
Cindy DeLano, a D.C. editor who has been in a church a few times in the past 30 years, was so anxious about the outcome and potential violence that she found herself in the cathedral Tuesday and Wednesday.
“This is how stressed I feel!” she said Wednesday afternoon on the cathedral’s front steps, with her friend Hugh O’Neill.
She came for the fresh air and the walk and to step away from work, but DeLano, who is not religious, looked for the right plea in the sanctuary’s quiet.
“It’s hard for me. If you say, ‘God, can you make this OK?’ – it’s like, no. I’m not convinced it works that way,” she said. She found another mantra: ” ‘It’s going to be OK’. . . . even though I’m not convinced it will be.” For her, “OK” is a Joe Biden win. And “Trump armed battalions coming to D.C.”
DeLano found comfort in the reaction she got on Facebook when she posted that she had been in the cathedral. Even people with whom she has not communicated well since Trump became president, she said, “liked” the post.
Since coronavirus quarantining began, most American houses of worship have been closed or have trimmed their hours. Many Catholic parishes have kept generally open hours during the day.
More than 1,000 people came to the cathedral on Tuesday and about 200 on Wednesday, said cathedral spokesman Kevin Eckstrom.
Across the Potomac River, Laraine Bennett was repeating a similar mantra at noon Mass from the back row at Blessed Sacrament in Alexandria, Va. The communications manager and writer did not want to say who she was supporting, but she said her focus and prayer is on unity and healing and peace in the country.
“All will be well, all will be well, and everything will be well,” she repeated, a tweak on a centuries-old Catholic expression: “All shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.”
“It gives me peace to put it in God’s hands. It gives a sense of peace to my soul,” Bennett said. She said prayer is partly about discerning what is true – in a deep way, but also in a pragmatic way on a day when literal allegations of truth and falsehoods were flying.
“I pray every day to the Holy Spirit to help me see what is true. That I’d be enlightened,” she said. “Sometimes things are confusing, and that’s OK, too. Right now we just pray that we accept the situation as it is.”
Acceptance was one of the primary things on the mind of one worshiper at St. Matthews Cathedral in downtown Washington. The woman, who emigrated from Peru and who declined to give her name, teared up as she talked about children separated from parents after traveling across the U.S. border – a trip she made herself as a young woman. Her voice shook at she motioned to boarded-up buildings as far as the eye could see. She blamed these situations on Trump.
“There’s nothing I can do. There’s nothing you can do. It’s only God,” she said on the steps after 1:20 p.m. Mass, which was attended by about 20 people. If Trump wins, she said, “we have to respect it. There must be some reason. Something we need to learn. It’s not that God doesn’t love us. We have to learn to live with one another.”
O’Neill, 80, a retired lawyer and longtime Republican, said he felt calm inside the cathedral, even as uncertainty swirled. “The republic will survive,” he said. “My only fear is we run out of money.”
With three weeks left before Thanksgiving, many pandemic-weary Americans are still struggling with the details of how they will celebrate the holiday meant to bring people together.
The novel coronavirus is still surging, and families and friends are talking and texting about virus risk factors, which are real and complicated.
Health experts are urging people to stay home, warning that travel increases chances of spreading the virus that causes covid-19. A virtual Thanksgiving or Friendsgiving gathering won’t smell or taste delicious, but increasingly, people are realizing it is the safer option during the current crisis.
Reginald and Tara Paige, who have eight children, are planning a smaller family gathering this year on their patio – and on Zoom. Tara, who in April founded the 200,000-strong Facebook group “Black Women Who Love Outdoor Living Spaces,” is checking out grilled turkey recipes. Three of her children who still live at the family home outside of Dallas will attend in person, and maybe a few more siblings will join them. But the members of the family who cannot fly in will gather around screens rather than fire pits.
“We want to see our children, but in a pandemic, we have to think of each other,” says Tara, who just founded the Patio Chic (thepatiochic.com), an outdoor-living brand that grew out of her online community.
“It’s different and it’s harder, because it’s emotional. It pulls on your heartstrings,” she says. Reginald will begin the Thanksgiving meal as he always does, with a prayer, although this year, some of his kids will be bowing their heads on Zoom.
Having to change up a holiday that is known for tradition is taking its toll. “Many people are struggling and are either a bit in denial that it is going to look different this year, or feel sort of frozen and aren’t sure how to do it,” says Vaile Wright, a licensed clinical psychologist in Chicago. “There is a tendency to overestimate or underestimate risk, particularly in situations where information is not well understood and keeps changing.”
The current official guidance from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (cdc.gov/coronavirus) says a lower-risk Thanksgiving involves a small gathering with only those who live in your household; other family and friends could be looped in virtually. The guidelines suggest having a virtual dinner and sharing recipes with friends and family. But what about the regulars who look forward to the bourbon pumpkin pie year after year?
“It is a loss, as the holidays are the time that we come together. But that is just not available this year. If individuals can start approaching Thanksgiving now with that expectation, that it is not going to look the same,” Wright says, “we might feel a little less of that loss.”
Planning might be the ticket. If Zoom or another videoconferencing platform will be the way you gather, create a strategy to make it work smoothly and to keep it fun. If your family likes to dress up for the holidays, get out your party dresses. If you like games, have a scavenger hunt or a trivia contest. If there’s a naturally bossy family member who’s also a planner, get that person to organize an agenda and send invitations. Ask tech-savvy family members to design a festive custom Zoom background (cranberries and hand sanitizer?) and help those who may not be adept at Zoom to sign on.
“It’s great to go into a virtual hangout with a plan,” says Taryn Williford, lifestyle director at Apartment Therapy (apartmenttherapy.com). “It sounds stuffy, but you need a moderator who will make sure everyone is engaged and having fun, and if you go off script, roll with it.” Consider involving everybody in “a shared ritual” by emailing ingredients for a cocktail or a recipe for macaroni and cheese. Determine whether you want to watch football, share stories and pictures, or get crafty. “Anything you can do to make a memory, this is the year to reinvent traditions, for sure,” Williford says.
A Thanksgiving Zoom can mean different things to different people. Some may want to dine together, while others don’t want to see Grandpa chomping on his turkey leg. Designer Rebecca Gardner of Houses and Parties (housesandparties.com), an event-planning and design company based in Savannah, Ga., and New York, says her clients are looking for help in uncharted waters. “In March and April, I thought the idea of a Zoom Thanksgiving was totally bizarre,” she says. But now, she’s figuring out ways to turn the day into a good party while also staying as safe as possible. She’s not a fan of eating together on multiple screens, though; do that before or after your Zoom call, she says. Find some party hats or sing a chorus of your family’s favorite song. Children could prepare a poem to read. “Build new traditions on top of your old ones,” she advises.
And there’s always the classic activity of dishing about the family. During the pandemic, more people have had the time to do genealogical research that had long been on their to-do lists. Terry Koch-Bostic, chair of the education committee of the National Genealogical Society (ngsgenealogy.org), says virtual celebrations could be a great venue to start a conversation about family history.
Koch-Bostic suggests two approaches to this. If you already have someone in your family who is interested in genealogy, ask that person to do a presentation and share any findings, documents and photos.
If there is no obvious candidate, someone could take the lead in putting together a presentation and encouraging family participation. Look online for help.
Many people pay to join Ancestry (ancestry.com), the giant subscription genealogical database. The NGS website provides links to many free resources (click on “NGS Learning Center”) for people just getting started and for those looking to build off current skills, Koch-Bostic says. You can learn how to build a family tree and find blank ancestry and family group sheets to fill out.
For a lively Zoom discussion, ask each family member to compile information they already have about different generations of family members. “You could plan a series of Zooms over the weekend to discuss different topics,” she says. “On one, you could share names and marriage dates; on another, photos.” It’s important to record the calls, she says, so the information can be captured later. This might also be a good time to interview the oldest member of your family for recollections of their parents and grandparents. The experience may become part of a new tradition. She suggests continuing the conversation during a Zoom Christmas as you start to build a family history together.
At Zoom headquarters in San Jose, the staff is watching how users are creatively adapting the videoconferencing tool that, before the pandemic, was primarily used in the workplace. Esther Yoon, group manager of product marketing at Zoom, is pregnant and has family around the world. This year, they will be connecting on Thanksgiving using Zoom.
A virtual Thanksgiving is obviously not the same experience, and everyone is tired of going to work, school and yoga in front of a computer. But something to be grateful for this year may be the fact that we can still be together in some fashion during a pandemic.
“You have a window into each other’s kitchens and can have conversations while you are cooking together,” Yoon says. “You can still see people smiling when you say what you are thankful for. You will see grandchildren, nieces and nephews and how much they have grown.” It’s still, she says, “bonding with your family.”