There are many private houses on Manhattan’s upper East Side in the 70s, 80s and 90s clear up to 110th Street. Old prewar buildings that, if they could talk, would have endless tales to tell of its parade of tenants, past and present.
I always appreciate the window boxes you see filled with whatever is in season, along with how every holiday is happily celebrated.
Halloween is a favorite along with Thanksgiving and Christmas. One family actually puts a sled on their roof with reindeer and a Santa that moves while bellowing Merry Christmas, and to all a good night.
Another house has a loop of the film, Miracle on 34th Street on a screen in their bay window.
This past Halloween I saw a big black cat creeping down stairs after a mouse that would squeal every time he got too close. It was pretty great.
Thanksgiving, three weeks away, is already in full swing. Just yesterday, I marveled at a giant turkey sitting in someone’s front yard with a big, brown pilgrim’s hat that hung over one eye.
This morning I went by, and Mr. Turkey was totally deflated due to the rain we just had. I stood horrified at what I was seeing. I look up, and there’s a middle-aged man I’d guess to be the owner, looking down at me from a top floor, his glasses perched on his nose.
I stuck out my lower lip to show my sorrow at what had happened.
This guy then started puffing out his cheeks like he was playing the tuba. Uh-oh, I thought, is he some kind of perv, but then realized in my early morning haze, he was telling me he was going to blow the turkey back up. LOL
Later in the day, I went back to see, and sure enough Tom Turkey was at his fighting weight once again.