12/13/2016
THIS IS WHAT 90 LOOKS LIKE!!!!
As I set my alarm for my 4:30 am wake up I couldn’t have been more excited. Why? Because tomorrow was the 90th anniversary of Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade and I was going to march in it as a clown. A 90 year old clown! Actually I’m older than the parade. I was born 9/11/26.
As an early morning breakfast clown I could be either a stick of butter, a piece of toast or an egg. You don’t know which character you are, till you appear at the old New Yorker hotel at 5:45 am Thanksgiving day. Two weeks before the parade I was required to attend clown school. There I met our captain, Sharon, fellow breakfast clowns, and clowns of all descriptions. We were given instructions on how to dress, how to act, as well as how not to act. The latter might be a little difficult for someone whose brain has been hacked, as I sometimes can’t remember things I’m told 5 minutes ago.
I went to bed at 10 pm in order to get enough sleep. It was fruitless. My inner body alarm kicked in and I watched 1, 2 and 3 appear on the face of the clock. At 3:30 I gave in. That’s it, I ‘m ready to break a leg as a stick of butter, or an egg. And what was the last one? Come on brain get unhacked. Oh - a piece of toast.
When I arrived at the New Yorker at around 5:15 there was a line that continued around 35th St. In spite of the early hour there were bright smiles and chatter everywhere. Many came from great distances. I met people from Chicago, Ohio, Arizona, Pennsylvania and New Jersey. Accountants, Hospital administrators, IT executives, Sales clerks. Warehouse handlers and mothers and daughters. I thought wow, here are thousands of people from all over America, representing all walks of life, enthusiastic over a common cause and each endeavoring to make it a success. May be there is something to be learned.
I learned shortly after, I was to be a piece of toast. So with grinning face and a Styrofoam piece of butter as a hat and Styrofoam shaped to represent toast and carried as a sandwich sign, I stood straight and tall. Not always an easy task for someone my age.
After having makeup applied we entered buses and were driven to 77th street and Central Park West. We were to follow the Charlie Brown balloon and Charlie Brown’s dog house. The place was bustling, a plethora of TV cameras, Photographers, Public dignitaries and every grateful public spectators, whose hearts were no doubt beating faster than the throngs of drummers soon to follow.
When some of my fellow breakfast clowns spread the word I was 90, a TV reporter approached me and said “Are you 90?” I didn’t give my normal reply which would have been. “No. But I celebrated the 48th anniversary of my 42 birthday this past Sept. 11.” He said, “No way.” I smiled. Wouldn’t you when asked for an ID to prove you're 90?
While waiting I was off to find the 3 other generations of family who were there to celebrate the occasion. I walked scanning the sidewalks where barricades prevented the public from entering the area. I must admit this was the first time the smile left my face. Finally I saw waving arms and the cry of ‘Father.’ No religious connotation. In my family my wife and I were referred to as Mother and Father.
I rushed to them as fast as my 17 year old titanium knees could carry me. My daughters, Deborah, Susan and “Beau,” her Italian greyhound, greeted me with kisses. Where are the kids?? The kids, being 2 of my granddaughters, a great granddaughter and great grandson. “They couldn’t get beyond the barricades. We were allowed only after being vetted. They are going to try to find a viewing spot along the route.” “I‘ll keep my eyes open” I said, while peering back to the breakfast clowns.
There stood Mr. TV Reporter gesturing with his mic that he was ready. What I said and who I was being interviewed by was lost in the exuberance of the day. Sharon our captain announced we’re on. And off we were. The cheers of the crowd and their smiling welcoming faces mesmerized me. I was drawn to them like a bee to a welcoming sunflower. The slapping of high five hands, spreading confetti and yelling “Make sure you eat your breakfast!” became my mantra.
My mixing with the crowd affected my keeping up with the breakfast clowns for I was now marching with group carrying a banner for one of bands. This is a no no and Sharon’s face showed concern. “Are you alright?” I didn’t take time to reply, I just indicated a thumbs up thinking I would get a chance to catch my breath while performers did their act.
As we approached Columbus Circle my confetti supply was exhausted. I thought “OK now it’s time to recharge.” This was not to be, the only delay was in making the turn on 6th ave. As far as my acknowledging my family along the route it never happened. The thousands of smiling faces of others’ obliterated theirs. The size of the crowd after turning 6th Ave. served to recharge me. Who needed a pause? The only deterrent was trying to keep the piece of butter attached to my head, but it fell off. So my knees were again called upon.
There I was trying to pick up the Styrofoam head piece while carrying a piece of toast as a sandwich sign. The approaching band was blasting away. I was determined not to be the first piece of toast in the parade’s 90th anniversary to have lost his butter.
I succeeded in retrieving my hat of butter before I became part of the Marching Band. And so I had to run to catch up with the early breakfast clowns who were several hundred feet ahead. Another test for Titanium. And run I did albeit with the butter in hand rather on my head. And though somewhat exhausted at around 42 St. it seemed that each hand I gave a high five to provided the necessary energy to make my arrival along with the other early morning clowns a reality.
The welcoming sign at Macy’s 34th St. entrance was gleaming with brilliance. No doubt from the reflective brightness flowing from all the parade participants’ faces.
Unlike Nancy Sinatra who made famous “These boots are for walking. I now proudly sing “These knees are for running.”
— excerpted from an essay by H.P. Schroer, who is in training for the 91st Macy’s Thanksgiving parade
