Starting the Holidays Right

Watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade brings back a plethora of memories for Starsky and Hutch.

Written for the 20 minute fic challenge.

Hutch glanced up from the newspaper he was reading. “I marched in the Macy’s Thanksgiving day parade one year.”

The televised image of a large float bearing a gigantic turkey segued into a commercial for Pop’n fresh biscuits. “You never told me that!” Starsky accused.

“Wasn’t that big a deal,” Hutch said, but smiled slightly as if in fact it certainly was a big deal. “The marching band at our school took regional first place for Minnesota, so we advanced to the finals. And went to New York to be in the parade.”

“On TV!” Starsky pointed to the screen now showing Mikey eating his Life cereal. “You were a star!”

“I was the drum major,” Hutch corrected, his cheeks pinking up. “Had a tall hat and a baton.”

“I gotta see a picture of this.” Starsky rubbed his hands together. Hutch would have been adorable with all that white blond hair and youthful zest. “We got to go to the parade when I was really little. Sat freezing on the curb at about six am waiting for it to start. Ma brought hot chocolate in a thermos. I don’t actually remember much except Santa arriving at the very end.”

“Always signaled the start of Christmas season.” Hutch nodded with a nostalgic expression. “Mother didn’t allow a Christmas card, carol, ornament, anything until December first. Then all bets were off. She was shopping and singing, bringing out the nativity scene figures.”

“I wanted Santa to come to our house.” Starsky looked back as the parade announcers from the Today show extolled the virtues of a High School marching band from Little Rock, Idaho. They were playing Jingle Bells with loud brass and percussion. “Bring us toys and candy. Ma said no way, even though she shied away from celebrating Jewish holidays.”

“Why?” Hutch asked, folding the newspaper away.

“Poland.” Starsky shrugged sadly, remembering the fear on his mother and father’s face whenever there was mention of the old country. “They escaped the Nazis really early, before all the trainloads and killing, but…”

“Oh,” Hutch breathed out, taking Starsky’s hand. “They hid their religion?”

“Even after they moved to New York, after I was born. We had a menorah, but that was really—I dunno, secret, I guess?” He thought back. Friends’ families had celebrated Hanukkah more openly than his. Maybe it was his mother’s reluctance to show her heritage that had caused him to crave Christmas and Santa Claus. Or maybe it was just the Macy’s Day parade.

“We’ll light a candle every night next week,” Hutch promised. “And remember her, and all those Jews who had their freedom to celebrate their faith torn from them by a mad man’s henchmen.”

“Amen to that, Hutch.” Starsky squeezed Hutch’s fingers, surprised he had tears in his eyes. He leaned in for a kiss just as the parade announcer yelled “that’s a winner!”

FIN