Ghosts of Thanksgivings Past

I saw part of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade on TV in all its freezing, teeth-chattering announcer glory - the huge ballooning animals, the marching band from Texas.

When I first moved to NYC in my youth, I worked in Macy's toy department. Dolls. My boyfriend worked in toy cars and wore a tie made out of some weird paisley material I got on Orchard Street to make into curtains. It was often raveling along the edges, to the disgust of the White Flowers, and he was not invited to return to work there after Christmas. I still have the coat I bought after a few paychecks. It's hanging somewhere in a closet with its little faux fur collar, reminding me of all the times I shivered my way home from Herald Square in the cotton unwarm Macy’s jacket I had to wear to sell dolls.

They asked me and a couple of others to be in the parade the year I worked there for the holidays and I said yes at first, but then it turned out they wanted us to wear skimpy outfits – bathing suits, I think – and it was freezing and I’d moved there recently from the tropics of Miami, so I said no. Now I wish I’d stuck to the yes, #metoo notwithstanding. I was SUPPOSED to be in the Macy’s Parade sounds very different from I was IN the Macy’s Parade!