Here in Detroit, we are not watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade this morning. No, no. Currently my television channel is set to the local NBC affiliate that is airing Detroit's own America's Thanksgiving Day Parade. Yes, as humble and decrepit as our city may seem to the rest of the country... back off! Today is Thanksgiving and we have our own parade and our very own football game too.
Living in the metropolis surrounding a core city that's experienced such loss (money, leadership, neighborhoods, Boblo Island!) there's alot that economics can't take away from metro-Detroiters; our spirit, hometown loyalty and traditions.
The parade lives on and is my background commotion this morning as it has been every Thanksgiving in the past thirty-eight years.
In our childhood home the parade would be viewed in the living room. A quartet of kids, cozy in pajamas, crunching on Cocoa Puffs and hearing the clank of preparations in the next room. Mom would be rifling through pots and pans and going through her methodical preparations: Crisco-ing the turkey, lining up the boxes and cans of sides, ironing the good tablecloth and waiting on the electric double oven to heat. Meanwhile, we kids remained nearby but out of the way. The Detroit parade, its marching bands and mega balloons being the perfect distraction.
One year, I distinctly recall a local reporter dropping an expletive during the live broadcast. A giant balloon of an adorable puppy was being commandeered down the street by its bundled-up handlers. The female reporter, who either was imbibing in holiday spirits a little too early in the day or simply didn't realize that her mic was still live, remarked to her co-host, "Could you imagine if that thing took a *bleep* on your carpet?!" (only without the censoring bleep!) My eyes went large and my stomach went sour. That was a word I knew we weren't allowed to use and I wasn't sure I was even supposed to know of its existence! I peripherally checked my siblings and not a flicker, not a comment. I don't know if the slip had missed them or if they too were sitting wide-eyed in disbelief. The purity of my holiday was soured for a moment. This was not a holiday memory I ever wanted to cherish... but, here I sit with that annual remembering creeping up as tradition.
Eventually Santa would end the local parade and we'd take turns cranking through the six local channels to find more Thanksgiving fun. Usually another of the major networks would be airing a medley of parades from across the country. They would swap coverage from New York to Hawaii to L.A. to even brief footage from our own humble parade. It was always odd to see sun and palm trees mixed with turkey celebrations. We locals associate the November holiday with cold, sometimes wet, sometimes crisp and sometimes snow! Coconut-shelled hula dancers were always an odd mix in the variety of footage seen that day, but it became tradition too.
At some point we'd be urged out of our flannels and into our clothing. And, about the time the scent of turkey would start to waft it would be time for the kids in the living room to turn the channel to Charlie Brown.
Now, for some reason in the mid-eighties, they didn't air the Peanuts Thanksgiving special on Thanksgiving Day. In the era before 24-hour holiday viewing on cable networks, you could only catch these specials once a year. Charlie's holiday of popcorn, lawn chairs and toast would be aired an evening or two before the holiday itself. On Thanksgiving Day, for some reason, the chosen mid-afternoon programming became Race for Your Life, Charlie Brown! Yep, the special where Charlie, Linus, Peppermint Patty and crew somehow got involved in a water rapids race while away at summer camp. The Peanuts had to battle the typical camp trials including the navigation of confusing military time, missed buses, nature's elements, Charlie Brown's ineptness and a gaggle of bullies which, of course, included an evil brown cat. It was never my favorite Peanuts special, but with only six channels to contend with and most other p.m. coverage designated to the NFL, Race for Your Life became a part of our tradition as well.
Around the time the scent of turkey was joined by the additional aromas of rolls and pie, was the time we started crayoning out place settings and watching out the family room picture window for the arrival of grandparents and cousins. Most major holidays were celebrated with my mom's side of the family. Thanksgiving would include Lion's football on the tube for the men, a (weather-permitting) half-hazard round of touch football in the yard for the kids and who-knows-what for the ladies because we ran off and left them trickling back and forth between the kitchen and dining room.
Dinner always (and pretty much still) consisted of turkey (which my older cousin would always try to convince me was chicken, so I'd stop making gag-faces and try it), gravy, Stove Top stuffing, Hungry Jack's mashed potatoes, corn, canned cranberry sauce ("the red stuff"), some kind of pistachio dish my grandma would always make ("the green stuff"), sweet potatoes ("the stuff with the marshmallows in it") and heaping piles of split-top rolls. Dessert was always an assortment of pies, pumpkin always present, and us kids trying to swipe mouthfuls of whipped cream, sans pie. There is also a birthday cake for my grandmother who's birthday falls on the 25th.
After the carb-load someone would always fall asleep (one or two of the men), the women would sit chattering at the table and us kids would run off and play and/or try to spy on what the women were talking about (and maybe still be trying to swipe the whipped cream.)
Thanksgiving now rotates between venues with basically the same crowd; only now with the addition of spouses and new cousins/great-grandchildren/nieces and nephews (titles dependant on which branch of the family tree you reside.) We thankfully still celebrate Grandma's special day along with the holiday (Her 93rd, this year!) The company of my last-living grandparent I still cherish along with the fact that the rest of the family still shares love and company with one another after all these years. God and is as good to us and he was decades ago, despite lifes ups and downs. And, the comfort of the parade currently broadcasting in the background is one more way that I'm assured that home is home.
