After twenty holiday seasons of saying 'we really should figure out a way to hit New York at Christmas' and NEVER doing it, this year my wife, Sigrid, her husband, me, and our two children (who are technically adults with whom we share biology), Patrick and Michelle are hitting the bright lights of the capital of the world (Sorry, London, Berlin, Paris, Rome etc....) and if we get to see any of the parade that's sort of a bonus.
In the last forty-three years, aside from the day last October when Patrick and I drove to Lower Manhattan for an Occupy Wall Street event (mostly me, I admit; way too many Stop the War and Civil Rights Now acid flashbacks), I've spent no time in Manhattan which is surprising at least to me growing up across the river in Jersey. When I say 'the city' I mean the island of Manhattan which colored my childhood, shaped my adolescence and helped define my early adulthood.
I may be looking forward more to this outing than the other three members of my family put together and that could mean I'm setting myself up for disappointment. I've told myself I will NOT find a seventeen year old version of me walking through Central Park, stopping at Strawberry Fields or staring up at the Dakota, or the GM building or 'The Garden', MSG. But I'm a pretty good liar, and I think I will look for him anyway.
I wanted to share this with you because it's a lovely video valentine (okay wrong season) from someone whom I don't know but suspect has the same kind of 'aw shucks' relationship that generations of auslanders who grew up with the downtown lights reflecting in their eyes have always had. And, I hope, always will.
They say the neon lights are bright on Broadway. They say there's magic in the air. We'll find out soon enough. I'll be wearing trousers with pockets so I have someplace to put all the fun and amazement.
-bill kenny
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