coming out of the brush, what looks like a mom and her brood, heading home.
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Susannah’s Fall, Winter Reading List, 2020-2021
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Best Story of the Week…Raccoons on Parade
Suddenly there’s a troop of raccoons
Must be nice knowing, she never has to worry about any of them leaving the house, without their mask.
This entry was posted in animals, Beauty, Culture, Family, Fashion, Health, humanity, humor, inspiration, kids, nature, New York City, parents, travel, words, writing and tagged Respecting Nature, running in Central Park, Summer 2020, the raccoons of Central Park, Wearing masks. Bookmark the permalink.
Cute!
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Like you.
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I’m the kook, not cute.
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kook.kook..a chu as, the song goes, just with a new spelling. 🙂
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LOL 🤣
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Simon and Garfunkel all this time, was singing to you. Well I’ll be. 🙂
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Raccoons are one of the cutest looking and acting animals. It’s always a treat to see them.
It’s interesting that people seem to be getting up earlier. I would have thought they’d sleep in. Is it to exercise since the gyms aren’t available? Pookie and I get up between 4:30 and 5:00, no alarm clock. Of course, we go to bed with the chickens, ha ha!
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It’s to have an hour or so of guaranteed peace before the crazies come out. It’s quiet with a semblance of normalcy. That’s why I go. It’s like a battle zone the rest of the day. Nothing is what it was, and it’s so disturbing Skinny. One stays home because it’s easier than fighting your way to have get your needs met. But at 5ish, Nature is in charge. 🙂
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Aah, such awesome freshnesss…I’m automatically awake at 5-5:30 and love it. It’s like a balm…quiet, tranquil…like, well as if all’s well and it makes me happy. Such a difference ‘tween that and the crash, bang of the rest of the day w/all its destruction. I love those little masked families marching out of the brush. And they don’t have pedestrian crossing…cool kids and their sweet mama! Thanks for sharing this cute episode to bring we fans such sweetness. Write on. Hugs to you Susannah!
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We need more sweet stories.
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Yes we do…for sure we are buried in filthy demonstrations, protests, you name it…we get it and it’s sickening. Thank God for such beautiful things…parks, animals to warm out hearts…early morning wrapped in peace and quiet…walks…smiling at simplicity. Love it. Yeah, we need more sugar stories. Thanks for yours!
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Thanks for reading it.
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I think people are getting up earlier not only to avoid all the crazies but with this friggen heat that won’t let up, it’s the coolest part of the day! What a joy Mama Racoon and her brood have brought. How lovely that everyone stops to let them pass, taking a moment to enjoy nature before rushing off and doing their thing.
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It was a Disney Movie. I’m not kidding. How she let you know, she was in charge, as they skedaddled across the road.
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I love it!! (And I love Disney movies so…)
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Me too. Just the innocence of it. Nature can be grounding. Not everything has to be so dark and hopeless, like the plagues and politics.
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I SO agree with you, Susannah.
We need to take a break from the black now and again. Otherwise we get sucked in.
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I look for the little things. The big ones are too big for me. Want our lives back.
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Yes! Funny because I am in a reflective mood about things I want to change in my own life. There are big things but mostly, the little ones need looking at.
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I’m trolling for moments of peace, like in the morning, and even those can me interrupted by a dirty look from someone who feels I didn’t flip my mask up fast enough. And the beat goes on.
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Keep on trolling and dissing the dissers.
Not easy, but let ’em roll down your back and splat to the ground and keep on keeping on.
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Good advice. It’s a masked jungle out there. sigh
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I do give some decent advice on occasion.
It is a masked jungle out there. Not worth getting mixed up with the animals!
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Sometimes it can’t be avoided. sigh
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No. There will always be those errant misbehaved, uneducated beasts..
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🙂
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Always had some infinity with raccoons. Had one in the house for over a week and never knew it. Just made himself at home and ate the kitty kibble. He came and went through the kitty door. We found him one morning in the guest room.
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You told me that story. You should write it as a kid’s story. Get some illustrator to complement your prose. Love the image of him in the guest room. And, making himself at home.
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Thanks for being patient and remembering that I told you the story. I thought I had the last time you mentioned racoons but went ahead anyway. 😁
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I loved hearing it again. The imagery is so wonderful.
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What a clever post about our cheeky little night time neighbors. I’ve had a couple run ins with raccoons over the years. I can honestly say that growing up in John Gotti’s neighborhood was less intimidating than a run in with one of these cute little rascals. Because you described it perfectly . . they are so damned cool and collected. They know they have the upper paw. Fughedaboutit!
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So you grew up in Middle Village, Queens? I heard John Gotti’s funeral was like when the Don died, in The Godfather.
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Howard Beach. What a place it was to grow up in back in the eighties. The home of Vito Antuofermo, Vitas Gerulaitis, Woodie Guthrie and of course John Gotti.
A favorite Gotti story. There was a cafe on Cross Bay Boulevard that Gotti no doubt had his tentacles in. My mother used to take my little sister there all the time for pastries. So they’re in line one day, my sister Noelle was eight years old and a rambunctious little snot, lol. So she’s telling my mother she wants this elaborate gingerbread house and mom is insistent she ain’t getting it.
“Wrap it up for them,”
Gotti.
Mom said thank you but no, but Gotti insisted. He bought my sister a gingerbread house.
Now this was five years before he took out Castellano at the steakhouse in Manhattan, but Gotti was well known, and loved, in our neighborhood. He took care of everyone.
I understand there is no glorious life with these guys, not like in the movies. But I always was a fan of his even though of course I know everything about his business. It’s one of those things where you really had to be there. To live inside that world and know those people.
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There’s a couple great books on him I’ve read.
I love that he bought your sister a gingerbread house. That’s one of his better stories. John was a rascal, no question.
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I ran into him a few times and really, the nicest guy. Sal Gravano on the other hand, he was grim death on a platter. My friend Jimmy was giving him shit once and he just got a kick out of us young punks. We never let Jimmy hear the end of it, the stupid ass. LOL
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You have great stories i see. It sounds right out of Goodfellas.
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Howard Beach in the eighties felt like the center of the universe. Of course that was because every kid thinks that of the place they come of age inside of.
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True. I recall all the unrest there. Later than the 80s, but it’s a name people remember.
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I had moved out of New York in January of 86 and it was December of that year when Jon “English” Lester and his punk friends chased those three men out of Howard Beach. I knew Michael Pirone. And once again, my sister Noelle plays Zelig. A couple years before the attacks, she had caught the eye of English. To which I said hell no, he goes near my little sister and I’ll kick his scrawny ass.
Postscript to 86, Jon Lester passed away a few years ago. He was back in England, his birthplace.
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How’s that for a poetic exit
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Every time I would go back in the years that followed, it felt like a city full of ghosts to me.
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I’ll bet. Someone I know sent me a photo of the house I grew up in, and it sure didn’t look the same as I vividly remember. Smaller, less imposing, like time shrunk it down to dollhouse size. I found it rather disturbing. As writers though, we can resurrect our memories to their original glory. 🙂
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And that’s exactly what we do. Because yes, it was the same with me. When I would go back after moving away, the alleyway behind our building seemed impossibly narrow. And yet, whenever we played stick ball there, it felt as big as Yankee Stadium.
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kInda sad, isn’t it. Sigh
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Nature has a way of stopping us in our tracks, literally.
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It truly does.
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Considering those raccoons are probably 20th generation New Yorkers, I guess it makes sense. 🙂 They’re probably as used to people as most house pets.
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The Park is their home, we their guests.
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