Thanksgiving…This
year we’re in Southwest Florida…perfect, not too hot, not too cold. But not too
exciting—across the street from the cows, just the way I like it.
The
PARADE sure does evoke memories. As a senior in high school, we actually
participated. Our band, led by the incredible person we called “Chief,” achieved
the position of honor: we marched in front of Santa Claus. What did we play, over
and over, for hours and hours? “Here Comes Santa Claus.” It would have been fun
if it weren’t so cold; at every opportunity, we found the nearest manhole that
was spouting steam. We thought it was warm, thought
being the operative word. Try playing the clarinet when your fingers are so
cold that they just don’t move.
For
ever after I was a fan of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, watching every
minute on TV. We didn’t venture into the city, our city, to attempt to view it
in person until we had three children and a motor home. We parked overnight on
35th street, facing the parade route, sleeping in our really comfortable
abode. Parking was illegal, but standing was OK, and, because we were in our
vehicle, we were standing.
The
next morning, we climbed the ladder and, accompanied by our puffy jackets and
blankets, had a birds-eye view of the parade. Other than having to keep bystanders
off, we had the best time. It was our parade
in our city.
Cold as it was, we took off after the parade on a trip; this
one was board-walking. We determined
that our final destination would be Walt Disney World, but, along the way, we
would walk on boardwalks on the Atlantic
Coast. Beach communities have boardwalks, complete with salt water taffy,
candy, restaurants, and fun, lots of it.
Our
first stop was, of course, Coney Island. In Coney Island you must go to Nathans
for hot dogs and their incomparable fries. A ride on the cyclone, once was
enough for me, but the kids had to have a repeat performance.
Next
came Atlantic City. Atlantic City is cold in the winter, but, as long as you
are careful not to break a tooth, the saltwater taffy is the best! Bundled up,
we walked the boardwalk, listened to music, and overdosed on candy.
Next boardwalk,
Virginia Beach, then Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. Our trip was leisurely, but
the further South we went, the better the weather, so we concluded that The
Boardwalk at Walt Disney World was sounding better and better, so we hightailed
it to Florida.
The
feeling, the first morning, when we awakened in Florida, opened the door to the
motor home, and smelled and found oranges, was indescribable. It used to be MY
New York. Now it’s MY Florida.
Of course,
we had to return to NYC. The kids had school. We had a business. We had a
house. But Florida was in my blood and still is. Florida is crazy, even crazier
than New York, but I’m used to crazy.
Normal
is boring.