The Sunday Memory Drawer - Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade...and Me

We know this is a vintage picture of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade.  Underdog has long since been retired as the balloons now need some sort of commercial and marketing angle to exist at all.  And, of course, please note the billboard for Mamma Leone's.  That dump has long since been extinct, only to be replaced by the microwavable offers of the Olive Garden.

But, I digress...

Back when I was a kid, the Macy's Parade was the highlight of my Thanksgiving.  Time for me to revel in the holiday before I would get sucked into being social with the relatives, feigning interest in turnips, and, of course, watching everybody fall asleep five minutes after dinner.

The frying of onions for the stuffing would waft up from Grandma's end of the house and wake me up around 8:30AM.  The pungent aroma naturally would help to turn my stomach as I would attempt to gobble down my Cocoa Puffs.  But, I needed to wind up breakfast as quickly as possible.  I had pressing business.

The parade was coming on NBC.

In those days, this was one of my traditional touching stones with the world of Hollywood of which I was growing increasingly enamored.  For years, the hosts were Lorne "Bonanza" Greene and Betty White.  They were infinitely more interesting and engaging than those schlubs who do the chores today---the ultra-annoying Al Roker and the always stupid Matt Lauer.  Nope, Lorne and Betty were pure Tinseltown and connected me to my favorite stars who would be riding on the floats.

I'd be riveted for three hours, from the very first drumbeat to the arrival of Santa Claus, who never really looked like Santa Claus.  The balloons were all my very favorite cartoon characters.  Bullwinkle.  Bugs Bunny.  Popeye.

It's as if NBC was telecasting this exclusively for me.

I'd get so excited over the goings on in Herald Square that I would run down into the kitchen where my mom and my grandmother were trying to cook and co-exist peacefully.  I would give them my parade updates.

"You know who was on the New York float??  Joanne Worley!!!"

They were too busy or annoyed to care.  I was dismissed with the standard phrase I probably heard thousands of times during my childhood.

"Move.  You're in the way."

I'd stare at the Parade on television and look at the kids huddled with their parents on the sidelines of Broadway.  How lucky must they be to actually watch it in person.  I was truly envious, which prompted the annual query to my father.

"Can we go to the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade some year?"

Once again, I was igniting the fuse on an explosive device.

"Down there?  With all those kooks??"

Gee, Dad, everybody looks pretty normal to me.

"Too many idiots on the road."

We could take the train.

"What are you, some kind of nut??  It's cold out."

Okay, I guess that's a no?

"Move.  You're in the way."

End of discussion.

Naturally, as I got older, I'd lose interest in the Parade.  But, it would always be on as background noise to accompany whatever I was doing on Thanksgiving.    I'd be less impressed of the star power participating in the march each year.  I would learn that those celebrities involved were really C-listers who had overly zealous publicists.  In truth, Deidre Hall of "Days of Our Lives" really wanted nothing to do with the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade.

Decades later, I would finally get my wish. 

I would get to go to the Parade.  Not once, not twice, but for five consecutive years.

In the late 80s and early 90s, I worked for a company that had third floor offices on the corner of Fifty-Third Street and Broadway.  Every year, they would host a breakfast for clients and offer up our prime viewing windows for their families.  On the third floor, you were literally eye level with the balloons.  And you would be sheltered from the crowds and the November wind.

I'd gobble up the invitation every year and always bring friends along.  For the sheer price of setting some bagels up on a buffet table, I had the opportunity to fulfill the dream I had when I was ten.

And, ironically, another tradition was born that first Thanksgiving at 1700 Broadway.

It started very innocently.  As our guests dotted the windows on the Parade route, I was standing with Frank, one of our sales managers and a funny guy in his own right.  To this day, I don't remember who fired the first shot.  But, he and I started to provide our own special brand of commentary as the floats, bands, and balloons passed by.

"Hey, look who's on the NY float!  Joanne Worley!"

"Wow, I figured she'd be passing by in a hearse."

I could hear the faint but growing sound of snickers up and down the row.  Hmmm.  This may be a receptive audience.

"Wow, there's a big patch in the crotch of the Pillsbury Dough Boy."

"Maybe it's a yeast infection."

Guffaws were now sprinkled amongst the giggles.

"That policeman's horse just relieved himself on the street."

"Or so that poor drum majorette just discovered on the bottom of her shoe."

We now had a thoroughly engaged and amused audience.  And we managed to keep it up until Santa had scooted by on his sleigh.

We were doing the National Lampoon edition of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade.

It was all spontaneous and organic.  The very next year, one of the guests saw me as I arrived at the office.

"Are you guys going to do the color commentary on the Parade again this year?"

I promised to try, but, as is usually the case, the second time around is never as good as the first.  It's no longer "off-the-cuff" if you prep it in advance.  By the fifth year, we were still in front of the window and cracking wise.  It was  a lot less organic.  And I swear I hear this from one of the guests.

"Move.  You're in the way."

Dinner last night:  Teriyaki burger at Jerry's Famous Deli.