Thursday, November 22, 2012
This is to wish all American followers of this blog a Happy Thanksgiving. Curly of The Three Stooges helped me in the kitchen this morning getting the turkey stuffed.
Just a reminder that my humorous short story, "Constancy" is still FREE on Amazon for today and tomorrow.
And today begins a FREE run for the next five days for my recently published States of Mind: New England book of essays and photographs on New England history. Help yourself and Happy Thanksgiving.
Did I ever tell you about the time I was nearly crushed by a giant balloon during a Thanksgiving parade?
It wasn't Macy's parade in New York, though I've attended that one as well, which I enjoyed very much and was not threatened by any balloon in any way.
This occurred in another city which with ladylike discretion I shall not name. It happened years ago (cue film noir flashback scene), when my twin brother and I were barely out of our teens. We had watched this parade, and when it ended, and a sea of humanity flooded the streets from all directions, I paused, wondering which was the best way to go to get back to where we parked the car.
Nearby a grand set of steps leading to a kind of raised piazza seemed to be a good place to stand to get our bearings over the crowd. As we puzzled the situation, we noticed a dark shadow spread over us. It had been a sunny day, and this sudden darkening seemed ominious. I looked to the sky for rain.
Directly above us was the large bottom of Felix the Cat. Descending upon us. Apparently, the very spot we had chosen to stand was the place where they were deflating Felix to put him back in a truck.
Have you ever heard that expression, "paralyzed with laughter"? It seems odd that someone could actually be paralyzed by laughter, but that is exactly what happened. Brother John and I were so overcome with fits of laughing, that we couldn't move, while Felix's giant plastic fanny came nearer and nearer, soon to obliterate us.
I shudder at the thought of the undignified headline announcing our tragic death.
At the last possible moment, we managed to gather our wits and our remaining strength, and stumble out of danger just as Felix plopped down on the piazza like a toddling baby who plops down, bottom first, on his well-padded diaper when his chubby legs give out.
It is a scenario I play over in my mind every Thanksgiving when I see those giant balloons on TV.