How Thanksgiving Football Brightened My Mother’s Last Months
It’s not easy spending Thanksgiving in the hospital with a sick loved one. I’ve spent two that way. I was in my late-20s, my mom in her late-50s. She was first admitted to the Cleveland Clinic in September 2006, after a heart attack left her in a coma. Against all odds, and to the astonishment…
It’s not easy spending Thanksgiving in the hospital with a sick loved one. I’ve spent two that way. I was in my late-20s, my mom in her late-50s. She was first admitted to the Cleveland Clinic in September 2006, after a heart attack left her in a coma. Against all odds, and to the astonishment of more than a few doctors, she came out of it and recovered enough to have a double bypass, only to then suffer a series of complications: stomach paralysis, nausea and vomiting, aspiration, severe pneumonia, a tracheostomy, ventilator dependency, further pneumonias, and numerous other infections. On top of that, during all the tests and scans, she was found to have lung cancer. And so she remained in the Clinic through October 2007—receiving radiation, fighting to free herself from the ventilator, trying to regain enough strength to undergo chemotherapy. In the end, she ran out of time. About a month into her stay at a long-term care facility—where I proudly watched her walk, on the arm of a physical therapist, for the first time in 14 months—the cancer spread to her liver. She spent a week in hospice and died at dawn on a Wednesday morning in early December as I lay sleeping on a foldout armchair by her side.
Thanksgiving in the hospital was even worse than Christmas. At Christmas, we could at least decorate the room—the glassed-in bay in the cardiac intensive care unit where she spent the better part of two months. We taped Christmas cards to the wall, placed a miniature artificial tree on the cabinet in which was stored trach cleaning kits and red rubber suction tubes and an assortment of pads and gauze. Granted, she was out of it much of the time, either due to low blood pressure or sedation used along with wrist restraints to keep her from yanking at her trach, which she often did in her disoriented state; ICU psychosis, the nurses called it. But even if she wasn’t aware it was Christmas, we were. There was some slight semblance of normalcy. I even bought and wrapped her a present—a blanket I got at Target. I put her hands on the paper and bow so she could feel it, interlaced my fingers in hers and tore away the wrapping.
Plus, Christmas was only a week until the New Year, which came with the promise that things might turn around, that maybe her condition would improve enough that she could get the hell out of the ICU. Which is exactly what happened. A few days after Christmas, awake and lucid and temporarily infection-free, she was transferred to a wing in the Clinic that specialized in ventilator weaning. In the new room, we taped a “Happy New Year” banner to the wall.
But how do you decorate a hospital room for Thanksgiving? You don’t, not when gourds and maize are the options and the mere sight of food causes nausea for the room’s inhabitant. I was feeling queasy myself after eating lunch at the cafeteria that Thursday—the dry turkey and watery gravy and mealy stuffing. Thanksgiving? I should be thankful for my mother being put through this awful ordeal? For her being prodded day and night with IVs and catheters and suction tubes and blood sugar meters? For the coughing fits which would turn her face purple? Of course I should. At least she was in one of the best hospitals in the world. At least she had terrific insurance. At least she had such patient and understanding nurses, who let me stay past visiting hours and changed her dirty diapers and vomit-covered gowns without complaint. At least she had loving family and friends for support. I knew I should be thankful. Still, it was hard. That first Thanksgiving was really hard.
The only thing that got me through, that kept me breaking down, was football—watching the two NFL games on TV. They provided more than a bit of normalcy: They provided escape. Though I can’t remember what teams played, or if the games were at all close, I remember being sucked into the drama, remember standing there by the side of my mom’s bed riveted by the action, not taking my eyes off the screen except for when I’d refresh the ice-cold washcloth on her head every 20 minutes.
In addition, the players gave vicarious vent to my anger and frustration. These days, I don’t watch much football. Being a lifelong Browns fan is part of it—the older I get, the less masochistic, I suppose. But mainly it’s all the new studies on head injuries, learning of all the dementia and suicide among ex-NFL players, and especially having a cousin who played running back for a D-I college until suffering a concussion he’s still feeling the effect of nearly a year later. In light of all that, it’s hard to watch the game in good conscience, that whole Roman gladiator comparison. But that Thanksgiving in the Clinic, every time a quarterback got pile-driven to the turf or a receiver was knocked ass over ankles, I rejoiced. All those defensive tackles and linebackers and safetys were surrogates expressing my rage. More blitzes, more unnecessary roughness, more carnage—I couldn’t get enough.
The second Thanksgiving in the hospital was different. She was awake and we were able to watch the games together. But I was too distracted to fully enjoy it. Her physical therapy had fallen off—she only managed to walk that one day—and after more than a month free of the vent she was once again back on. Having already covered more than $2 million worth of care, the insurance company was denying further time at the long-term care facility—located within a Cleveland Clinic satellite hospital in nearby Lakewood, Ohio—and, after visiting a few nursing homes and refusing to subject her to that misery, I was trying to figure out a way to keep her where she was, maybe cash in her investments or sell the house and pay out of pocket.
Of course, had I known about the CT scan in the coming days and its results, the metastasis, I would’ve been even more preoccupied, wouldn’t have been able to enjoy the games at all, would’ve been too scared. So, while again I don’t remember the teams or the outcomes, the last Thanksgiving my mom and I spent watching football together is a good memory—and one I’ve thought of every Thanksgiving since.
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Childhood activities like playing house, superheroes and villains, the floor is lava, and the classic tea party all involve imagination. We create stories and worlds with rules and roles to play.
Humans want to believe that our creativity and art make us unique. But a bonobo named Kanzi was part of research that has scientists wondering how different we really are. In three evolving experiments, Kanzi correctly identified pretend objects, demonstrating that he could understand and engage in make-believe situations.
Kanzi associates words and symbols with Sue Savage-Rumbaugh. Photo by William H. Calvin, Phd/ Wikimedia Commons (Cropped)
Kanzi has a make-believe tea party
Researchers developed a simple setup using cups, a pitcher, and actions that began as real pouring and gradually shifted into pretend play. The first experiment used real liquids. The second had a combination of real and pretend liquids. The final scenario had no real liquids and relied entirely on imagination.
The scientists used gestures and make-believe to see if Kanzi would react differently depending on what he was being shown. He didn’t react the same way in each setup. His responses showed he was paying attention to more than just the objects, but also to the way the situation was presented.
Kanzi participates in an indoor test. Photo by William H. Calvin, Phd/ Wikimedia Commons (Cropped)
Animals engaging in fantasy
The experiment revealed that non-human animals can understand and follow along with imaginary situations.
“[It] shows that animals are capable of understanding pretence in a controlled experimental setting, which hadn’t been done before,” Dr. Amalia Bastos, first author of the research from the University of St Andrews, told The Guardian.
Scientists involved in the research are careful about how they describe it. They don’t treat it as proof that bonobos imagine things the same way humans do. Instead, they suggest that animals are capable of responding to situations where meaning is implied rather than directly shown.
Albert Einstein, one of the greatest scientific minds in history, is often credited with the idea that logic gets you from A to B, but imagination can take you everywhere. This study suggests that the more we learn about animals, the more it seems the difference between us may not be as great as we once thought.
Developmental research credits early social and cognitive growth in human children to imagining situations that aren’t physically present. A 2024 meta-analysis found that make-believe is not just entertainment but also directly linked to social understanding and real-world interpretation.
Researchers now describe animal play as more flexible than once believed. A 2025 study of ravens revealed that play included the manipulation of sticks, stones, and other items, suggesting social awareness and responsiveness to context rather than simple instinctive behavior.
Play and imagination may be versatile behaviors no longer seen as uniquely human traits. A broader cognitive toolkit shared across multiple species suggests the gap between humans and animals may be smaller than it once seemed. Things we’ve long believed to be uniquely human may instead exist along a spectrum of abilities expressed in different ways.
People who work from home with a cat nearby tend to recognize this moment well. The instant a laptop opens and a document appears on the screen, a cat arrives within seconds, claiming ownership of the keyboard.
It can feel like an unwelcome interruption, yet veterinarians and animal behavior specialists have identified a common pattern among domestic cats. Cats often choose to sit on objects their owners are engaged with, particularly when those things are central to human attention or activity.
A cat with a little attitude on the computer. Photo credit: Canva
Cats aren’t trying to be a nuisance
The first, and probably most familiar, reason a cat jumps on you and the computer when you’re working is attention. Animal behavior experts at vet-reviewed sources like Catster explain that cats repeat behaviors that reliably get responses from their owners. Why work when you can play and look at me?
Another commonly cited explanation is simple comfort. Laptops, keyboards, and similar devices radiate heat. Cats seek out these warm surfaces for napping. Daily Paws notes that warmth is one of the practical reasons cats may choose electronics over other available spaces in the home.
And let’s face it, cats are naturally curious. They are highly responsive to human activity and tend to investigate objects their owners are focused on. The laptop, papers, and even a phone being scrolled at home become sources of fascination.
A white cat relaxes on a laptop. Photo credit: Canva
The science behind cats lying on laptops
Research suggests there is more behind this behavior than basic attention-seeking and curiosity. Physical contact with objects can shape how cats interact with their environment, especially with items frequently handled by humans. For cats, scent helps create and strengthen connections with their owners.
“Cats are very possessive individuals,” Dr. David Sands, an expert in animal psychology, told BBC Science Focus. “For them, the more they can brush past you and deposit your scent, the better!”
The laptop is not just a warm surface but also a shared space that already carries a lot of its owner’s presence.
Research from the Tokyo University of Agriculture found that cats can differentiate between familiar and unfamiliar humans using smell alone. In everyday settings, this may explain why cats often spend time on items like clothing, beds, or computers that carry their owner’s scent. These objects are strongly associated with a favorite human.
These explanations point in a similar direction. What may seem like a deliberate effort to interrupt work is more likely the result of several well-intentioned feline behaviors. The family mouser is probably not plotting against your productivity.
From seeking warmth and comfort to investigating the objects that hold our attention to interacting with surfaces carrying our familiar scents, cats have plenty of reasons to gravitate toward a laptop. These soft and cuddly family members adapt to the people and environments around them, even if that process occasionally lands them squarely on our keyboards.
George Washington knew his forces could not win the American Revolutionary War without some measure of sea power. “It follows then as certain as that night succeeds the day,” he later wrote in a letter, “that without a decisive naval force we can do nothing definitive, and with it everything honorable and glorious.”
The problem was that the American commander did not have a navy.
As a professor of early American history, I have taught courses on the American Revolution for more than 20 years and have written two books on its maritime dimensions. Washington’s solution wouldn’t come from a French shipyard or a congressional committee. It would come from a group of angry, out-of-work New England fishermen.
Supplying the army from the sea
In 1775, American ground forces managed to lay siege to the British army in Boston, but Washington needed provisions and military stores to sustain pressure on this key commercial hub. Looking out across the Atlantic Ocean, he noticed supply ships arriving in droves from Great Britain – unescorted – to supply the British army in Boston with guns and ammunition.
Unbeknownst to them, the British had already handed the American commander the ships and mariners he needed to capture those resources.
The Sons of Liberty, a network of political activists, had angered the British government by resisting taxes and commercial regulations – from the 1765 Stamp Act, which taxed printed documents, to the 1773 Tea Act, which controlled what tea leaves made their way into North American cupboards.
To punish rebels for their treason, Parliament passed the Restraining Act of 1775, banning New Englanders from fishing on the Atlantic Ocean. Overnight, thousands of skilled mariners – men who spent their lives wrestling 100-pound cod out of the freezing, storm-tossed North Atlantic – were out of a job. They weren’t just unemployed; they were furious. These fishermen left their work tools and ships behind, picked up weapons and joined the siege of Boston alongside American farmers.
Ashley Bowen, who lived and worked in Marblehead, Massachusetts, the principal fishing port in America at the time, recorded in his journal on May 22, 1775, “the fishermen are enlisting quite quick.”
A letter from a French diplomat to the foreign minister in Paris confirmed the news a couple of weeks later: “4,800 sailors seeing they were going to be deprived of their fishing rights, deserted their ships and joined their compatriots under arms.”
Washington, commissioned by Congress as commander in chief of all American armed forces in June 1775, saw an opportunity. He didn’t wait for Congress to build new frigates. Instead, he reached out to John Glover, a fish merchant from Marblehead and a commissioned officer under his command.
Washington’s plan was simple: Take the sturdy, salt-stained schooners used for fishing and turn them into armed, seagoing predators.
The first of these was Glover’s own fishing vessel and trade ship, Hannah. She wasn’t a formidable man-of-war but a 78-ton workhorse that spent summers at the Grand Banks and winters hauling rum and sugar from the Caribbean. Washington armed the trade ship with a few cannons, manned her with fishermen and sent her out to hijack British supply ships to help his army win the siege of Boston.
Just two days after the Hannah was underway, her crew captured the Unity, a sloop loaded with naval stores and lumber, supplies sorely needed by British forces in Boston.
Between August and October 1775, Washington outfitted a fleet of schooners at Congress’ expense to intercept British supply ships off the coast of New England. These vessels and crews, whose wages were paid by the American government, constituted what many historians consider America’s first navy. Washington reminded each captain that they sailed “at the Continental Expense.” These orders from Washington and the payments made by Congress made these ships official American warships, operating under the authority of what would become the federal government.
These recruits didn’t need nautical training; they were seasoned seafarers who had battled rough waters and gale force winds. On Oct. 13, 1775, George Washington wrote to his brother, John Augustine Washington, that the fishermen were “soldiers … who have been bred to the sea.”
In 1776, Washington informed the governor of Connecticut, who had asked to draft seamen from Washington’s regiments for his own naval expedition, that he could not spare any. “I must depend chiefly upon them for a successful opposition to the Enemy,” Washington explained.
Because the British navy was spread too thin, with too few warships available to police the Atlantic coastline, the armed fishing vessels were able to disrupt supply lines and keep the Revolution alive through its infancy. By the time the British realized the threat, the damage was done.
On Feb. 26, 1776, just a few months after Washington launched his fleet, British Admiral Molyneux Shuldham wrote in a report to his superiors that his forces in Boston were low on everything from naval supplies to weapons. What little they could find had to be purchased “at the most extravagant prices.”
The British government had not assigned military convoys to trans-Atlantic shipments at the start of the conflict in 1775. Now, Shuldham recommended arming the supply ships themselves, since valuable stores were being intercepted by rebels in small vessels, “however attentive our Officers to their Duty.”
He concluded the report with an ominous note, explaining that he simply did not have the resources to do everything that was being asked of him – support the army, blockade rebel ports and protect British ships bound for Boston: “I must beg leave to observe to you the very few Ships I am provided with to enable Me to Co-operate with the Army, Cruize off the Ports of the Rebels to prevent their receiving Supplies, or protect those destined to this place from falling into their hands.”
