Snowmagedden

Yep, old timers hanging around the pickle barrel at the local fish and tackle will remember the “great storm of ‘015” and will recount how the snow drifts were “as high as yer arm pits”; the relentless, never ending snow that felled trees and caused street side mail boxes to disappear under its shroud. “Why, even Broadway’s theaters closed down, can you imagine that, by cracky”. Martial law went into effect in NYC; only way to get the cars off the road so that the snow plows could do their work.  And yet it wasn’t the worst blizzard. NYC's biggest snowfall on record hit on Feb. 11, 2006, dumping 26.9 inches of powder on the city over two days. The second largest blizzard killed at least 77 people when it struck and dropped 25.8 inches on Dec. 26, 1947. But enough about the Big Apple, here, south of the Mason Dixon Line, life is more genteel. Our snow would never dream of such rudeness. It is quiet and elegant, gently falling. We stopped at 23 inches. 

For us, real life started with the cute Campbell’s soup commercial. Mom was cruising the aisles, two children in tow, dropping soups into her cart while the PA system announced that “the snow was expected to fall for the next 24 hours; white out conditions, schools will be closed” at which point mom picked up a bottle of wine -- presumably to go with the soup.  We decided to follow her lead. After picking up a case of wine and a few bottles of scotch, our attention turned to food, firewood, full tanks of gas, batteries for flashlights, and a fired up generator. We were ready, bring it on, and then, and then, nothing big happened. Well, it snowed and kept on snowing, but while the D.C. and Baltimore news reports showed snow blowing sideways; gale force winds and a relentless blizzard taking place on the western shore, not much was going on here on the eastern shore. I vaguely felt left out, but this morning we woke up to find that it had snowed all night, and that various landmarks had disappeared under the snow. The pool is gone as is the walkway to the dock. There are little snow mounds where bushes previously sat. I'm sitting in the kitchen waiting to see if any geese or ducks bounce off the cove’s frozen waters. I can hear it now: Head duck to duck party: "Coming in for a landing, boing boing boing, uh, trying again further south, keep flapping those wings". I'm quite taken, though, by a small bush on the other side of the pool fence; its little red berries are shining through all the white. It's the only color anywhere. Our little bush lives in hope. 

Our cats are fascinated by the changes; they’ve sat on various window ledges for hours, stoically staring out the windows, waiting for some entertainment that does not appear to be arriving. And, while nothing tragic occurred at our home; no loss of electricity, not even loss of internet, the fire glowed in the fireplace all evening, our down blanket kept us warm through the dark night and the coffee pot percolated this morning, I am grateful that no tragedies occurred at our home. The radio scanner tells about various tragedies that occurred during the night; other homes that caught fire, homes without electricity, downed power lines, car accidents, people stuck in their cars for hours, snow drifts and even fallen animals that needed to be rescued from the icy waters. I am grateful too for the hundreds of unsung heroes -- those men and women who left their own homes and families to take care of others in need. Thank you.

New York State of Mind

There is something about New York City that makes me smile, makes me behave more kindly and more gracious but, alas, it also brings out my best alpha and my best sense of entitlement. I may be a little old white lady but when a young babe in high heels tried to out maneuver me for a cab, I jumped in her way, we hopped in and I peeped “age before beauty”, as we sped away. Comfortably ensconced inside, Scott then murmured that she was out there first. What? I hadn’t seen her, and when I admonished him for not having said something earlier, he replied “I didn’t see how that would benefit me”. That NY state of mind appears to run majestically through both Hamilton’s veins. 

Trains are wondrous means of transportation, as are the Redcaps, harkening back to the old days of elegant travel in Pullmans and sleeping compartments. We found train travel much to our liking; big padded seats, lots of leg room, free wifi, quiet cars, and no TSA. The train brought us right to Penn Station in the heart of the city. Once we walked onto the platform, however, I felt like Wilma Flintstone, staring open eyed at all the Jetsons flying by. In a blink, big city girl mode kicked in. I waved a bill that quickly brought a Redcap to deal with our luggage and hail us a cab. 

It was raining and naturally our umbrellas were in our suitcases. An intrepid young man was selling umbrellas of suspect origin for $10. I offered five and walked away with an umbrella. We later met up with my brother who sported a similar umbrella that he had picked up on the street for free.  Later still I saw them at the market in Gramercy Park for $3. I love New York. 

We stayed at the Hotel Elysee on East 54th, one of the many elegant little boutique hotels that dot the town. I had suggested a more modest hotel for my brother a block away on 55th. Unfortunately I had not paid close enough attention so while we were technically a block away, we were on east 54th but he was on west 55th.  

We took in a couple of Broadway plays, then while enjoying a late night snack at the Monkey Bar restaurant one evening, my brother noticed a familiar looking man sitting at a nearby table. It took a couple of covert peeks to realize the familiar face belonged to  Harvey Weinstein. The young lady with him bore no resemblance to his current wife. My brother leaned in, winked and knowingly whispered “his niece”.  For the rest of the trip, every time he appeared in the lobby to retrieve us my brother would have the front desk announce that Harvey Weinstein was in the lobby. 

We walked from our hotel to Fifth Avenue, leisurely strolled past the windows, all dressed up for Christmas. Although the building is now empty, I pointed it out to my brother, telling him how at one time it was the FAO Schwartz store and in December it had a big red ribbon and bow wrapped around its outer walls. Later we walked down to 34th Street to the original Macys. While the first two floors are modern, the upper floors still look like they did in the 1940s, complete with wooden escalators; the grand old stores in the old days. For me,  these are the good old days, sauntering through the best city with my two best men at the best time of year. Merry Christmas.