New York, New York!
What an amazing, colorful, fast paced, sky scraping city is New York at Christmas time! We traveled there as a group, our daughter-in-law and her church choir, our son and three grandsons, and I. At dinner in the hotel that night, our daughter from California, my chaperone, joined us and all together we went to Hershey’s Chocolate World on Times Square for the largest, gooiest s’more I have ever had.
On the second day we found seats for eight at a small Italian place for lunch. When we could not eat all of the pizza that was served, we asked for a take-out box. Well, the only box they had was a large pizza box that did not close very well. Our son was carrying it on our way to Central Park. I said, It’s ridiculous to walk through Central Park with a pizza box, and the lid can fly open at any time! Let’s give it to a homeless person. That was easier said than done. In all the streets we walked through we did not encounter a single homeless person. We saw more of them at night, huddled on the side of the buildings in the freezing rain. We crossed into Central Park, and there I saw one! Away from the path, in the sun under a tree, lay a man, covered by a thin grey bl
anket. Next to him stood a water bottle and behind the tree I saw part of what looked like a shopping cart and an umbrella. I took the pizza box from our son and walked across the grass. He was just a shapeless form, laying on his side, his back toward me. Sir, would you like some leftover pizza? I asked. Yes, was the muffled answer. I will put the box down right next to you, I said. Thank you. He did not move. I walked back to the path and the waiting family members. Half an hour later, on the way back to the hotel, we passed the same spot. The shadows had lengthened, but the figure still lay motionless in the sun. He had put the pizza box under his behind. The ground must have been freezing, and his thin blanket did not even cover him completely.
The following days, while the choir rehearsed for five hours, the family headed in different directions. From the skating rink in Central Park to the Guggenheim museum to Rockefeller Center, where I worked for a year in 1961, to Bloomingdales, where Mike worked at that time. When the Guggenheim was opened, we lived in New York but never saw any of her exhibits, nor the awe-inspiring circular walkway inside. The architect, Frank Lloyd Wright, advised people to see the exhibits walking from the top down – and so we did.
The 911 Memorial on Ground Zero was extremely moving in its simple beauty with waterfalls of tears falling endlessly into an infinity pool and from there down again into two voids. Michael Arad, the architect, whose design was selected from 5000 others, had watched the second plane hit the South Tower from his roof on the Lower East Side. He described how, in the days immediately following the WTC attacks, he first envisioned a memorial that incorporated the element of water. His original design, aimed to evoke the impassable separation between the living and the dead — “a threshold that one cannot cross” — was rejected, but he was able to preserve the water element that was so central to his design: two square, below-ground reflecting pools are surrounded by waterfalls that begin above ground level. He imagined the pools of water to be “two voids tearing open a surface of water and the river failing to fill it up”. “The “inexplicable image,” he added, “captured a sense of rupture and continued absence” that intrigued him. The names of those who died in the attacks and recovery efforts are inscribed on bronze panels in the plaza overlooking the Memorial.
We had two days of sunshine, two of freezing rain, then snow. We walked an average of six miles a day, through blizzards from the hotel to the theaters at night, in double layers of clothes. I had an umbrella with me, my daughter’s umbrella flipped over to half the size, and the others pulled up the hoods of their jackets in an effort to stay dry. We struggled to find the right subway line and the right platform, walking down and up stairs to get there and down and up again; we used a shared Lyft twice, and took a yellow cab once. I was so happy that I could do it all, without pain, thanks to a hot pad and coffee in bed in the early morning and Tylenol throughout the day.
With the family, we went to see Wicked, The Rockettes, and then the beautiful Christmas show Heaven’s Child in Carnegie Hall’s largest theater. Our daughter-in-law’s solo was amazing, and far too short! We had never been there before as a young, just married couple. Imagine the five of us sitting in a center loge, looking down to see the full 10 choirs from two stories high! A once-in-a-lifetime experience.
What intrigued me most in New York City, other than the bright colors at night of continuously changing billboards, window displays and Christmas trees, were the shapes of the buildings. My pictures can’t do justice to them but I am enjoying the memories.
It’s a Wonderful Life!
Until next time,
Ronny
I love sewing and have not done it in ages. I still kept the ancient Singer sewing machine which I purchased from our neighbor (the little old lady in Pasadena) in 1989, and once in a while it comes in handy. In addition, in eighteen days, my trip to New York will become a reality, and preparing for that will take time. All fun things, that will mean I will not have the abundant time I have currently to write.