Monday, November 19, 2018


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.

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