Friendsgiving: Cozy Launderette Series | Rainy Bedtime Story

Step into the allure of 1971 in Manhattan to experience the Macy's Day Parade. Retreat to the cozy brownstone apartment of your charming neighbors and fellow members of the Laundry Club, to enjoy a Friendsgiving. The warm gathering leads to a nap before you reconvene in the basement launderette for desert. In tonight's story, relish the nostalgia, camaraderie, and comforting embrace of a bygone era in a Manhattan enclave. It's time to dream away.

Transcript

Fall asleep with tonight's rainy bedtime story for grown-ups.

You are listening to Friendsgiving with the Laundry Club in the heart of autumn in New York.

Step out of your cozy brownstone on the Upper West Side of Manhattan to enjoy the Macy's Day Parade in 1971 with your beloved neighbors.

After the parade,

A gathering of this chosen family enjoys a holiday feast as sleet and rain take the city by surprise.

Following dinner,

Everyone enjoys a nap to reconvene for dessert in the basement laundrette,

Where the soothing sounds of machines coincide with the gentle patter of ice pellets and whistling winds.

Amid antique chairs and overflowing bookshelves,

You share tender moments sipping tea and indulging in freshly made pies with your beloved quirky neighbors.

Every moment becomes cozier as the storm rages on and you return to your apartment to snuggle with your purring cat and drift to sleep.

It's time to dream away.

Welcome to Michelle's Sanctuary,

Where I,

Michelle,

Am your dedicated guide and companion.

Before we travel back through time to bask in the cozy firelight in a historic brownstone,

I invite you to relax deeply,

Connect with the energy of a simpler time.

As you settle in the sanctuary of your mind and room,

Allow yourself to fully embrace the essence of this precious moment.

Acknowledge that this sacred time is exclusively yours.

A nightly ritual dedicated to self-care and rejuvenation.

You are completely in control as you customize this experience as you see fit.

If at any moment you wish to drift to sleep,

Feel free to do so.

To help you relax deeper,

Let out a big sigh.

Set your intention for coziness and peace,

Blowing out any lingering stress or tension.

Make a sound if it empowers this process of winding down.

Inhale deeply through your nose,

Envisioning the crisp autumn air permeating your being with its sweet,

Aromatic promise of change.

If you wish to enhance a sleepy feeling,

Take a yawn and then exhale in a sigh,

Feeling carefree.

Swept away by the liberating thought that you can yawn and sigh all you want tonight.

Inhale again,

This time imagining the warm,

Saturated colors of autumn leaves,

Replicated in a band of soothing light that cloaks your body in peace.

When you exhale,

Your breath becomes a breeze that sweeps through your mind,

Clearing away anything that interferes with your precious time to unwind.

For your third and final conscious breath,

Let your imagination welcome every cozy image and idea that randomly comes to mind.

This may be the deepest breath you have taken all day,

And as you expand,

Welcome the comforting sensations brought to you in a stream of conscious display in your mind's eye.

You may yawn if you like,

And as you exhale,

Envision yourself drifting through time and space to the heartwarming experiences that await with a laundry club,

Safe and relaxed.

It's time for the story to begin.

There are years when the Thanksgiving crowds gather from uptown Manhattan to West 34th Street to take in the splendor of the Macy's Day Parade in the golden warmth of November's morning sun.

1971 would not be one of those years.

The whipping winds put popular floats on hiatus.

The organizers accepted the unruly forces of Mother Nature.

After three floats took the brunt of the winds,

Snoopy being one of them,

Would have to take 1972 off for continuing repairs.

And while some children and the grumpiest of attendees complain about the nip in the air and light rain,

You and the members of the laundry club couldn't be happier to bundle up and meander down the block to the park,

With the freedom to come and go as you please.

It feels worthwhile to preview a bit of the parade.

Everyone carries a thermos containing a hot drink.

All but Charlie,

The building's super,

Are present.

For decades,

Charlie's mother worked at the perfume counter of the esteemed department store in Herald Square.

And since his late teens,

He has taken advantage of Macy's invitation to all employees and their families to march in the parade.

As the steam rises from your insulated container,

You approach congregating locals to enjoy the parade with views of Central Park's lingering fall foliage.

A trail of leaves scatters down the canyon of Central Park West,

Spiraling in mini-cyclones and clearing the way before the first floats arrive.

A high school marching band plays a joyous tune,

Even as the members' cheeks and fingers turn deep shades of red in the cold,

Damp air.

You revel in the craftsmanship of your coat and scarf,

Both heavy and impenetrable by the wind and elements.

Dorothy and Ed,

The oldest members of the laundry club,

Still carry the gleeful energy of newlyweds.

Whether their eyes sparkle from true love or the cold,

The fact remains that they react to old traditions as if experiencing them for the first time.

Their enthusiasm warms your heart.

Or if two souls in their eighties can be as delighted as children discovering a bounty of presents on Christmas morning,

Then you know it is possible to be delightfully surprised as time wears on.

Madeline,

Sans her partner in crime,

Charlie,

Stands close to you.

The faint hint of cinnamon and caramelized apples lingers in her hair from a morning spent baking pies for the group's friendsgiving.

Swept up in the holiday rush at the bakery as the main pastry chef,

Madeline jokes she may not be able to enjoy baked goods again until she's close to Ed's age.

Ed doesn't miss a beat when he proclaims that baked goods are the very reason he's still kicking.

Tom stands along the side,

One hand holding his coffee while the other balances a pipe.

Not much of a morning person,

Tom partook in a poetry reading in the village the night before,

With an afterparty that ended just before dawn.

A bit surlier than usual,

He still manages a smile as Peter Pan and Wendy Darling reveal themselves to West 69th Street.

In many ways,

This middle-aged intellectual has a touch of Peter Pan's desire to never grow up.

In the sea of earth-toned jackets and plaid scarves,

Some children balance on stepladders to enjoy a better view.

Some sit atop a firetruck parked near the corner,

Posing for photos as a parent snaps them on their Nikon.

It's not often that New Yorkers stand this still on a city block,

Free to take in the architectural wonders.

High-rise pre-war buildings adorned with intricate details,

Each window a peephole into the lives of those who call them home.

And while locals can be prideful,

Dazing tourists for staring up at the skyscrapers with awe and curiosity,

Even the most cynical urban dwellers will sometimes find themselves drawn to the beautiful spires that pierce the sky.

You gaze up and catch glimpses of people peering out from the ornate windows of the Brentmoor Tower,

Their faces reflecting a mix of excitement and anticipation.

The towering building offers pre-war elegance,

Inspiring thoughts of horse-drawn carriages and the Gilded Age.

The windows serve as private balconies to the parade,

Offering residents a front-row seat to the festivities while maintaining a cozy,

Dry vantage point.

The children on the firetruck,

Shivering in the misty rain,

Look longingly to the kids tucked indoors behind Juliet balconies,

Just as those indoors long for a chance to climb atop the truck and frolic in the rain.

Their wordless interactions are a small glimpse into the curiosity that every New Yorker feels when walking through the storied streets,

Wondering what life is like for those on the other side.

The crowd around you slowly gets lost in a wave of black umbrellas as the spitting rain takes on more fervor.

Some umbrellas flip inside out as the winds increase.

Despite the weather,

There's an undeniable buzz of excitement as each float passes by.

The cheers and laughter of the crowd soften the chill.

The colors of the floats pop against the gray backdrop of a rainy day,

And the most spirited of parade marchers rely on their sense of humor to make light of the perpetual discomfort.

Even as your nose begins to tingle in the cold,

The scent of rain mingles with candied nuts and pretzels sold by vendors,

Some without permits,

Who mindfully conceal their business whenever the NYPD makes their presence known.

Tom is the first to see Charlie.

Walking alongside,

The old woman and the shoe float,

Dressed in lederhosen and suspenders,

A far cry from his typical blue uniform.

Charlie scans the crowd for your faces,

And Madeline calls him by name.

As everyone in the laundry club waves and cheers him on.

The oversized brown boot,

First launched in 1924 and since the 60s,

Has offered a stage for stars like Dusty Springfield and Hank Williams Jr.

To serenade the crowds.

As you take in the scene,

You can't help but feel a part of something larger than yourself.

New York,

With its frenetic energy and soaring population,

Always has the power to do this.

And the Macy's Day Parade of 1971 creates a more intimate moment,

A pure unbridled connection with the spirit of the city and this thriving community.

The rain transforms into sleet.

And at this point,

You and your neighbors unanimously decide to return home,

While the Santa Claus float brings a cheery close to the parade.

The arrival of North Pole weather makes it easy to prefer watching the rest of the parade from Dorothy and Ed's warm apartment.

Beyond the parade,

The Upper West Side is remarkably quiet.

Free of traffic,

With nary a yellow cab to be seen,

Brownstones along the way showcase festive autumn decor,

With gourds,

Pumpkins,

And corn stalks cascading down the stoops.

As you arrive at your building,

Tom unlocks the front door,

Waving everyone in before him.

The building smells remarkable this time of year.

As the radiators kick on,

Heating up dust particles that linger in the cast iron grooves and blend with the sweet smell of wooden fixtures.

It's a strange thing to admit enjoying the aroma of,

But this fragrance is always coupled with the dry,

Cozy warmth of home.

And it's been said that no place on earth is warmer than a New York apartment in winter.

The group walks through the second heavy wooden door that has a stained glass window featuring a sapphire,

Emerald,

Orange,

And purple mosaic pattern.

Umbrellas are placed in the communal bronze urn as Dorothy and Ed lead you up the creaking wood stairs to the apartment they now share.

Throughout the summer,

Their individual apartments were combined to form a lovely two-bedroom abode with a small studio for Ed to tinker with his never-ending projects.

Ed,

Slightly out of breath,

Jokes that the stairs are as much a secret to his prolonged youth as his love of Madeline's pastries.

Dorothy laughs,

Insisting that she best be included on that list.

You ascend the next set of stairs with the crew,

Lost in the wonderful camaraderie and good energy that multiplies whenever you are together.

It's not common to find yourself in your neighbor's apartments as an unspoken observance of privacy leads most gatherings to occur in communal settings.

Of course,

You're always there for one another when it's time to pet-sit or apartment-sit,

But this is the first you've seen the latest updates to Ed and Dorothy's home.

As you arrive on their floor,

Everyone removes their shoes and places them near the welcome mat.

Ed unlocks the door,

Then holds it open for everyone to come in.

The apartment smells of freshly baked biscuits and savory Thanksgiving dishes.

The decor celebrates the most romantic aspects of the 20th century,

With antique hurricane lamps.

And in a upholstered settee,

The room is classy and timeless.

Sleet pelts against the French doors that lead to a small balcony.

Lush lavender curtains frame the doors,

Repurposed from stage curtains from a theater where Dorothy once performed.

The living room contains artifacts of another time.

Victorian lace doilies gifted down to her from her mother.

A sepia photo sits atop one of the doilies,

Capturing her parents during the height of their vaudeville days.

An upright piano sits in the corner against the exposed brick wall.

While the early morning food preparations have brought additional warmth to the room,

Ed can't miss an opportunity to light up a fire.

And given the lingering chill in your bones,

You welcome the cozy ambience it brings.

Dorothy turns the knob on the TV console,

Bringing coverage of the parade to life on the round display hosted by a chipper Betty White.

Dinner will be served just after noon,

When Charlie is expected to return.

Dorothy and Madeline take to the kitchen,

While you and Tom reposition the dining table and add a leaf under Ed's guidance.

You decorate the table with festive linens as Ed polishes the crystal and silverware.

The clinking of glasses,

Crackling fire,

And chatter of the correspondence narrating the parade on TV create a lovely holiday soundtrack.

The wind whips around the brownstone with harsh whistles as it delivers leaves and sleet to the balcony.

And you appreciate the fire's warmth all the more.

How lucky you all are to be gathered in this beautiful apartment.

Once the table is set,

It looks fit for a feature in Architectural Digest.

Surrounded by the amethyst silk wallpaper,

Crown moldings,

And brick fireplace,

A crystal chandelier hangs overhead.

A piece Dorothy claims was the payment she received for a radio commercial she did long ago for a lighting show.

Every nook and article in the apartment tells a unique story.

Ornate frames containing the history of Ed and Dorothy's lives,

From when they first met downtown in school,

Through the years before they reconnected,

Are arranged on the mantle.

You feel honored to find their Central Park wedding photo with you and your neighbors.

Positioned in the center of these vibrant memories captured in film,

Lilac lace drapes over the piano,

Where you discover more photos of Dorothy throughout the decades.

Singing in jazz clubs,

Performing in theaters,

And directing child actors at a camp in the Catskills.

A poignant black and white photo reveals a much younger Dorothy in her leotard,

Stretching her leg atop a bar in a dance studio.

The room is flooded with natural light,

And windows reveal the New York skyline behind her.

Every image reveals the rich life your neighbor has lived.

As the parade comes to an end,

And Santa Claus is revealed on the screen,

Ed turns off the television and requests that Tom select a record to play.

Soon,

The crackle of vinyl gives way to the raspy voice of Louis Armstrong.

The candelabra is lit on the table,

As well as tapered candles in cast iron sconces hung on each side of the fireplace.

Everyone enjoys a pre-dinner beverage as Madeline sets a side table with shrimp cocktails and tiny quiche.

Ed carries over a cranberry jello salad candle,

A unique recipe he describes contains a significant amount of mayonnaise.

To everyone's relief,

It looks so beautiful burning that no one dares to cut into it for consumption.

But it wouldn't be a party without Ed trying the latest recipe trends.

A knock on the door interrupts the festivities,

And you open it to let Charlie in.

His hair is full of icy droplets,

And his face is scarlet red from the frigid air.

You can even smell the cold on him as he crosses the room to warm by the fire.

Dorothy brings him a towel to dry off.

While Ed prepares him a drink,

The entire group is back together.

Dorothy praises Charlie for surviving the parade and marching with pizzazz,

Saying floats or no floats.

His brave smiling face was the highlight.

The storm continues outside as everyone gathers around the table to enjoy an early Thanksgiving dinner.

The lights flicker,

But the Upper West Side is one of the lucky neighborhoods to not lose power.

Dorothy raises her glass to lead the toast,

Expressing that in all the wonderful experiences in her life,

Her moments with everyone in this room have exceeded her wildest of dreams and deepest of hopes.

And before everyone's glasses clink and eyes become teary,

Dorothy explains,

This is what home feels like.

I never really knew this feeling was missing until meeting you all.

The dreamy glow of candles and the fire illuminate the antique platters that are passed around and shared with an almost heavenly light.

Louis continues to play softly in the background.

The crackles of vinyl intertwine with the pops and crackles of the fire.

A sleet pelts the windows,

And silverware and glasses clink.

You could not feel more warm,

Complacent,

And delightfully full.

Early darkness arrives as everyone pitches in to clear the table,

Divvy out leftovers,

And clean up the kitchen.

You work together in a small space with an easy rhythm.

Madeline suggests dessert may be enjoyed a few hours later as you reconvene in the laundrette.

It gives the perfect amount of time for everyone to return to their apartments for a brief nap.

With some scraps for your cat,

And goodies for yourself,

You return to your quiet apartment to be greeted by your purring companion.

With haste,

You create a decadent meal for your excited pet.

You then change out of your Thanksgiving best into soft cotton garments and go to your bedroom.

Nothing feels quite as luxurious as a holiday nap nestled beneath your downy quilt.

As darkness takes hold,

And the rain continues its soporific beat,

Every once in a while,

A distant siren or beeping horn weaves its way into your dreams,

Causing you to feel at times that you are floating above the depths of sleep that come more easily at night.

You let your nap dictate the time it needs.

In no rush,

Trusting you'll naturally awaken in time to regather with your neighbors.

And when you do,

You rise slowly and yawn,

And make your way down two flights of stairs to the cozy laundrette.

The sweet conversation of your neighbors is heard faintly beneath the percussive rain,

And you realize you're the last to arrive.

Tea and decaf coffee await on the table next to enough pies for everyone to have their own.

A carton of vanilla ice cream sits in a ceramic vessel of ice,

And clouds of freshly whipped cream fill a crystal bowl.

Ed removes the linens and napkins used at dinner from the washer and places them in the dryer.

Heat radiates from the machine,

Filling the air with the smell of clean laundry.

Everyone enjoyed a nap,

But for Ed,

His busy mind kept him alert,

And so he used the time to pull out holiday decorations for the building.

The gathering is an interlude between sleep,

And deep,

Yet feels like a dream.

The kind of heartwarming dream one would hope to have.

Madeline brings you your preferred warm drink.

She,

Like all the wonderful souls in the room,

Is aware of your tastes,

Just as you are thoughtful about their preferences.

The pies are delightful,

Their buttery crusts are perfectly flaky,

And fillings from berries to pumpkin to apple have the perfect balance of sweetness and a velvety texture that coats your palate.

Just enough time has passed for you to enjoy Madeline's pies,

Filling you just enough to be satiated and to become sleepy once more.

As conversation wanes,

And the drum of the dryer comes to silence,

Tom reads two stanzas from Thanksgiving by Ella Wheeler Wilcox.

We ought to make the moment's notes of happy,

Glad Thanksgiving.

The hours and days,

A silent phrase of music we are living,

And so the theme should swell and grow and grow as weeks and months passore us and rise sublime at this good time,

A grand Thanksgiving chorus.

Everyone raises their cups in a toast to this sentiment,

And before cleaning up once more,

A series of hugs and good nights follow,

As everyone,

Including Ed,

Becomes eager to return to the welcome embrace of autumn slumber.

Back in your apartment,

You brush your teeth and prepare for sleep,

Joining your pet once more in a rumpled bed.

The blankets in disarray have created a soft nest for your cat that you disrupt as you pull the sheet and quilt over you.

Your pet meows and then curls against you.

A constant dance of sleet and rain lulls you with its hypnotic patter into a deep restorative sleep,

Finding bliss,

Finding serenity,

Finding slumber.

It's time to dream away.

Reviews

So happy to find another Cozy LAunderette story I fell asleep barely into it so I’ll have many nights to finish the story . Thank you Michelle

Thank you, Michelle 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻Another Launderette story.Yay! And this time it concentrates on the 71 Thanksgiving. At that time I was not even aware of that American tradition. How much fun that we get a peek into Ed & Dorythy’s apartment…love that. As Thanksgiving is approaching in a couple of days, wishing you a most wonderful, cozy, memorable celebration🙏🏻🎆💗🌟💐🙏🏻
PS: LOVE your mentioning of Friendsgiving!

Thank you Michelle for the wonderful new story and meditation.

I always love your Launderette stories! They bring me close to Manhattan where my heart always is. Also, this one particularly made me feel a part of the adventures. I especially can relate to the early seventies because those were my college years. Thank you once again, Michelle for sharing your very endearing brownstone adventures with us! 💖✨💖✨💖

Loved it! Your stories are so imaginative and your voice so calming I fall asleep and don’t remember anything! I overslept this morning and feeling refreshed! Forgot to put my alarm on. Thank you kindly Michelle for another awesome bedtime story! Definitely will listen again! 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗

What a lovely story--I truly felt I was there. 1971 was a good year, for me at least, and Thanksgiving was one of the best days of the year. How strange, that it should feel like a hundred years have passed between then and now...