Is it Godzilla stalking Broadway? No, it's just Barney celebrating Thanksgiving.
Of all Thanksgiving traditions, I am most loyal to the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. No, I’m not on Macy’s payroll, but back in the day, it was a hometown thing. I went to it many times as a child. Bundled up against the November chill, I’d park my little bottom on a curb, usually on Central Park West because that was walking distance from home, and thrill to it all: The marching bands, the floats and especially, of course, the balloons.
The big coup was to nab a night-before invitation from someone with an apartment on the Upper West Side that overlooked the streets where the balloons were inflated, transforming, slowly and ponderously, from enormous amorphous blobs to Underdog, Garfield, or (to date myself) Felix the Cat. (I’m not this old, but check out these cool photos, of the parade in 1932 purchased, coincidentally, in Texas.)
A few years ago, I was invited to a friend’s office on the parade route where we watched the balloons pass at approximately eye level. It was a thrilling view but a tradition for this friend that must come to an end; after 82 years, the parade route has been changed this year.
Now, though I live far from Central Park West, the parade remains the necessary background to my Thanksgiving morning. It is nostalgic both for the event itself and for the glimpses it gives me of home. And as big as the parade is, it’s the big-city version of small-town America. It’s New York City’s contribution to Flyover America.
Happy Thanksgiving, Flyover Americans! We’re taking a Thanksgiving break from Three-fer Friday this week, but we’ll be back on schedule next week.
