Despite having spent 40 years of my life in one area of New Jersey or another, and despite having gone into New York City many times, I’ve never seen the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade live.
Oh, it’s been tempting, all right. I do like going to parades — something about them, their not-quite-cheesy sentimentality, their infectious mass giddiness, the tinniness of the music and the general professionalism but occasional ineptitude of the performers, something about them always manages to stir my blood. (This would be blood shared with my late drum-and-bugle-corps Dad and erstwhile drum-majorette Mom, so perhaps it’s not just coincidence.)
But the Macy’s Parade — like Times Square on New Year’s Eve — just seems one of those crowd experiences enjoyed better from the comfort of one’s living room. The views are better. The sound is better. In recent years, with the advent of closed captioning, even more esoteric rewards can be found in the commentary and lyrics previously only guessed at.
