To Universe, with Love

It's probably a really good thing that I've got nothing against crass consumerism.

I braved the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade this weekend. If I did have anything against crass consumerism, I'd probably have dropped dead. Wave after wave after wave of product placement, advertising characters disguised as children's entertainment, and floats bearing the likes of Dolly Parton. Nothing like kicking the holiday season off with it's true meaning: warbling Christmas carols sung by half-drunk has-beens (seriously, has any singer in their prime ever put out a Christmas CD? Answer: no. Not that this diminishes my love for the Barry Manilow, Jessica Simpson, or most especially, Amy Grant Christmas CDs. I'm just stating the facts) and massive consumer debt brought on by product placement and children's entertainment.

Sounds like the hap-hap-happiest holiday since Bing Crosby tap-danced with Danny [bleep!] Kaye!

But did any of this dim my enjoyment? Not really. Not even the crowds and the tourists could dampen my spirits (and it was especially entertaining to watch this one extremely loud, obnoxious tourist woman being escorted away from the parade by the police after pushing one of them in an effort to secure a better viewing location for the two sniveling brats she was hauling along. The good officer did not take kindly to this. Myself and my fellow parade watchers clapped. The rude woman spit. Yes, honey, clearly that is going to help your case. Enjoy your time in the tank! See you next Thanksgiving!)

I can't explain why I liked it. Is it that no amount of viewing on the old black and white TV in my grandparents' basemetn can prepare one for the real life spectacle of this parade? Is it that barring the above mentioned crazy woman, there's a feeling of camraderie so rarely felt between New Yorkers and out-of-towners, as for a brief few hours we share sidewalk space without rancor? Is it simply that after years and years of being so far from all of it, but knowing how badly I wanted to be in the thick of it, I finally was? That feeling that maybe my seven-year-old self had not been crazy when I told my grandfather that someday I'd be in that crowd waving at the camera, and suddenly, it was true? It was one of those hit-me-in-the-face, hey-I-really-live-in-the-city, whoa-this-pretty-cool moments.

So for that moment, that opportunity, for all the triumphs and obstacles, pain and joy, and for every bittersweet, ambiguous, exciting, life-defining moment that led to that one, today, I am giving thanks.