I once had Eggs Benedict instead of turkey for Thanksgiving.
It was a Shoney’s Restaurant special on the 10-dollars-and-under menu. Lisa, who lived across the hallway from me in our dorm for graduate assistants, ordered the same thing. We split a large plate of greasy hash browns, our substitute for cornbread stuffing. An unorthodox holiday to be sure, but one I’ll always remember.
With a major class assignment due the following week, I couldn’t make it home for Thanksgiving. And, as a teaching assistant for the university’s history courses, I had a pile of ungraded essays demanding to be read. Lisa was in the same boat. She was an English major, which meant she had twice as much writing and grading.
We made a promise to attack our class projects for the better part of Thanksgiving day. The payoff? A delicious turkey dinner at a restaurant of our choosing.
By 6 o’clock, Lisa tapped on my door.
“Let’s eat turkey!” she exclaimed with the hunger of someone who had spent too much time parsing John Donne sonnets.

Even the Piggly Wiggly was closed that night. But who plans ahead on Thanksgiving? That’s for old folks — you know, 30-year-olds!

I grabbed my car keys and skipped down the stairs in anticipation of some major Tryptophan in my future. Lisa and I were giddy as we rattled off our favorite side dishes.
“Mac and cheese!”
“Corn pudding!”
“And bread!” I yelled with a little too much enthusiasm. “We must have bread!”
Ten minutes into our drive, it dawned on me I hadn’t made reservations anywhere. Nor did I know what restaurants were open on Thanksgiving night.
Apparently, not too many.
This was, after all, nearly 30 years ago in a small city in the Florida panhandle. Even the Piggly Wiggly was closed that night. Forty-five minutes later, Lisa and I were still driving around like the couple of young, spontaneous students that we were. Who plans ahead? That’s for old folks — you know, 30-year-olds!
An hour later and still no turkey. Lisa was biting her nails with the fervor of a grad student on the edge.
“I’m starving!” she yelled from her passenger seat. “Let’s just go to a drive-thru.”
“Absolutely not,” I insisted with both hands gripped on the steering wheel like a madwoman on a mission. “We will not eat a hamburger tonight.”
But, four miles later driving up and down a deserted highway, I was re-thinking my position. So was Lisa. Turning to me, she gave me the look.
“You know what I’m thinking sounds good?”
Grinning, we nodded our heads.
“Eggs Benedict!” we declared.
Every Saturday morning, Lisa and I would make our weekly pilgrimage to Shoney’s for their Big Breakfast All Day! special. Lisa was a Shoney’s connoisseur. She knew every item on the menu and insisted their Eggs Benedict was the best around. She was right.
I came to love my Saturday breakfast with Lisa.
She and I were strangers when we arrived on campus a few months prior, both not knowing another person in the city where we had just moved. It was weird returning to college as a grad student. I suddenly felt old among the freshman running across the lawn for Greek Week. Then I met a 24-year-old English major living across the hall from me who loved Shakespeare and poached eggs drizzled in hollandaise sauce in equal measure.
I lost touch with Lisa a few years after we graduated. I’ve tried to find her on social media with no luck. She had dreams of being a college English professor out west. I only hope there’s a Shoney’s nearby.
Friendsgiving is trending right now. Usually held before or after Thanksgiving, it is a celebration with friends in partial homage to the notion that friends are your family by choice. It is labeled as a new tradition, but I’d like to think I was friendsgiving a long time ago.
“To the best unplanned Thanksgiving ever!” I said as I tipped my sweet tea glass to Lisa’s, grateful for a season in our lives that gave us each other and a meal worth savoring.