The Thanksgiving Parade ain’t what it used to be. But then, what is? We’re not going. Again. I think we’ll go skating instead.  Here’s a post from last year about Thanksgivings past.

This year they’re adding Dora the
Explorere and Scooby Doo. Artist Tom Otterness has created a
33-foot-tall Humpty Dumpty, frowning mid-"great fall."  As usual,  the
parade route begins at 77th Street and Central Park West, proceeds to
Columbus Circle, and turns onto Broadway. It turns west on 34th Street
(just past Macy’s Herald Square) and finishes at Seventh Avenue.

Back when we aspired be the ultimate New York parents, the parade
was a must-do activity. When my son was 3, we all bundled up and stood
under a Broadway marquis on a freezing cold day. Friends brought a
thermos of hot chocolate and it felt like the most essential New York
childhood experience of all.

For a few years, my cousin rented a hotel room on the 5th floor of
the Central Park’s Mayflower Hotel, which provided a perfect, indoor
spot for viewing the balloons. To watch the parade from indoors is one
of the great luxuries of New York City life. A real perk. One windy
year, we watched a ballon deflate before our eyes after it rammed into
a lamp post.

When Diaper Diva lived across the street from the Museum of Natural
History, she invited Teen Spirit and OSFO, who was only 2 at the time, to
sleep over so they could watch the blowing up of the balloons the night
before the parade, one of those great New York traditions. So great,
that it’s almost as popular as the parade itself and unbearably
crowded.

My childhood memories of the parade are vivid. When I was a kid, I
remember being bundled in a snowsuit on freezing cold Thanksgiving
mornings and standing out on Central Park West too short to see the
parade.

In fourth grade, a classmate invited a group of girls over to her
77th Street duplex for a sleepover. Her parents took us out in the
middle of the night to watch the balloons – Underdog and Mickey Mouse
being blown up on 77th Street. This was before it was a popular
activity. back then, it was strictly for residents of 77th Street and
81st Street. How special we felt walking outside in our nightgowns and
overcoats beneath a crystal clear night sky.

The next morning we were out early watching the parade in full
swing. The foot of one of the balloons nearly touched my friend’s
little brother’s head as he sat on his father’s shoulders.

I asked my sister if she has plans to take her 15 month old daughter
into Manhattan for her first parade. "Not this year," she said. They’ll
probably take her next year when Ducky is two. She can sit on her
daddy’s shoulders and watch the enormous balloons up above.

It’s a New York tradition she won’t want to miss.

–Posted in 2005