When I was a kiddo Thanksgiving was a giant pain because one, my Thanksgiving dinner consisted of a roll and cherry jello, with fruit cocktail in it (Serious. This is all my brother and I ate. We didn't like anything else and there was no making grilled cheeses on Thanksgiving) and two, no friends allowed. That meant a whole day off of school and no Jill and Sheryl rendez vous.
But when we were in high school there was a few Thanksgiving Days that Jill and I spent together. One of my absolute favorite parts of Thanksgiving was the Detroit Thanksgiving Day Parade. My dad would take my brothers and I when we were little to see the parade. To say it was blistering cold 99% of the time is an understatement. The thing about doing anything with my dad is that he was 7% relaxed and excited and 93% on a mission. It was a funny mix. So when he woke us up to go to the parade- and he would be hyper and excited and being silly, you also had approximately 7 minutes to use our 1 bathroom, get dressed, get your snow gear on and pile out the door. Serious. The car was already running.
So out the door we all get. Sometimes when we saw the parade we would meet up with my dad's old high school friend and his family or more often, we would meet up with my uncle and two cousins. As soon as we got in to Detroit and found some place to park, game on. Do you know how these days when a child is lagging behind the mama or daddy turns around with their hand out and says "I'll wait for you Madison/Ashley/Cooper..." or whatever sweet name their hallowed child has? Yeah no that's not the way to drive results. My dad would just start walking and if you didn't keep up- that's your problem. In general he could hear if he had all three of us as we stomped behind him running in our moon boots, snow pants and hollering at each other to get a move on.
There was a typical 'corner' we'd stop at to park ourselves. It was right where the People Mover was (above ground public transportation train). This presented some added entertainment because all of the people with those giant balloons had to slide them under the People Mover. It wouldn't be fun to just watch the parade... that would be monotonous. It was fun to watch the potential for disaster. Once in a while there was the occasional trip up where people were running around trying to recapture their balloon hold strings like children who lost hold of their kite. It was all part of the fun.
The acts in the parade were not exactly Macy's Parade Superstars, but... there were traditions. The dudes that danced with their briefcases... I wonder if they are still there. Because nobody uses briefcases anymore... do they use laptop bags these days??? Just wondering. There are clowns that run around with little wagons and shovels to pick up after the horses. There are floats and balloons that are the same every year and those dang giant head things with people bodies underneath that had a way of making it in to my nightmares.
And then there are the marching bands. Folks. There is a giant difference between suburban Detroit schools and Detroit school bands. The suburban schools are dutifully playing their Christmas medleys- which is all well and good. But the Detroit schools- are all wooping it up, dancing and getting the crowd rolling. Except for the parents of the suburban kids who are just confused.
There were two occasions once I got to high school where I was actually part of the parade- Jill too. We were marching band nerds together and during our freshman and sophomore years of high school we got to be in the parade. Nothing is quite so contrasting as hundreds of clearly suburban kids standing in the middle of some of the pits of Detroit wearing a band uniform. Standing over sewer grates that had steam floating from them to keep warm. Not to mention, the homeless and other clearly less than fortunate folks that were milling around as we stood there holding instruments worth more than the cash they had to spend for six months of groceries... yeah not always a nice feeling.
But as the parade started and we rolled on, I couldn't wait to get to the People Mover to see my family. It takes for freaking ever by the way, because the parade does have to accommodate things like commercial TV breaks and rogue balloons and way-ward horses and the homeless guy that pees in the middle of the road. But as we started getting close... mind you I was a freshman... I realize, there is no question where my family is sitting. Because they are holding a damn eight foot sign with SHERYL spray painted on it. The band director came over to point it out to me in case I some how freaking missed it.
I wasn't embarrassed- I was giggling to myself actually. I had been over the top excited to be in the parade. I seriously had been counting down the days from the minute I found out that we were going to get to do it. I felt so... how-come-I'm-so-lucky. Grateful. Thankful.
This Thanksgiving is a bit different for me- I'm skipping it technically. The boys are in Denver with their dad and his family, which, poor Joshua and Noah, they are in DENVER. But I'm thankful for those little resilient men and can't wait to meet them at the airport tomorrow. Some other Thanksgiving I'm sure we'll make it to Detroit so those little boys can appreciate the difference between urban and suburban, they can run behind my dad to catch up, eat cherry jello with fruit cocktail that my mother made and in general, have something to remember and lots to be thankful for.
-Sheryl
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