He Wore Blue Velvet

I'm still in sunny Santa Monica, and TH is back in cold snowy Boston, so we haven't been on any recent dates. But there is something I desperately need to get off my chest. (or more accurately....off of TH's chest).

In 1996, our family spent the Christmas Holiday break in Alberta, Canada. I have many fond memories from that trip that I will remember and treasure always:

• Our son J was playing for Team USA in the World Under-17 Hockey Championships;
• Our son B was on break from Tulane and joined us on the trip;
• We met the O family from Amherst, NY who instantly become dear friends - both sons later lived with us at separate times while in high school prior to successful collegiate and pro hockey careers;
• I saw the northern lights for the first time;
• and the Rocky Mountains;
• I visited the most beautiful place I have ever seen on this earth - Lake Louise, Banff, in winter;

There were, however, some memories from that trip that I'd just as soon forget:

• I shopped at the world's largest mall in Edmonton, and didn't buy one thing;
• It was so cold that we had to plug in our rental car every night so the engine block wouldn't freeze;
• The hockey team did not do so well;
• and....(drum roll) TH wore Blue Velvet

Okay, I'm lying. It wasn't blue velvet. It was actually blue velour. Navy blue velour shirts. Two different ones. And I actually bought them for him.

In 1996, we didn't yet have internet access and the world was a much larger place than it is today. When we heard that our son would be playing in Alberta, Canada...we instantly pictured Siberia. There was no weather channel dot com where we could look up the ten day forecast. At best we had a few almanacs from the library, some AAA travel guides, and word of mouth from a few hockey coaches who had traveled there before us. Two words stood out....bitter and cold.

And we didn't have the wardrobe to withstand those temperatures. So I went shopping and purchased skiwear, hats, long johns, mittens, polar fleece, corduroy, scarfs, shearling, wool...

...and two navy blue velour shirts for TH. I was walking through Filene's (boy do I ever miss that store), saw the shirts and thought they would be a warm addition to TH's wardrobe. He loved them, and wore them repeatedly on the trip.

And when we returned home.

And for the rest of that winter.

And the following year, as soon as the temperature dipped slightly in the fall, there they were....his favorite shirts.

And the year after, from early autumn through late spring, TH wore his blue velour.

And every single year since. FOR FIFTEEN WINTERS.

If you have ever seen TH at any time from October through April, I guarantee you have seen him in one or both of these blue velour shirts.

oh....and he doesn't wear them just once or twice per season....he wears each one at least once, if not twice, PER WEEK!! 

On our last date, when we went out to eat after snowboarding, we had a long discussion about these shirts...because of course he was wearing one at the time. I begged him to please retire the shirts. TH recently had a birthday and we bought him some great casual attire, so it's not like he doesn't have anything else to wear.

But, No, he won't retire them, he tells me. He loves them. They are warm, and they are still in great shape. All the more reason, I cajole, to donate them to a homeless shelter where they will be appreciated. But TH won't let me donate them. Or throw them away (my first choice).

I try to hide them in the bottom of the clothes hamper, and if I'm doing the laundry I will purposely omit them from the wash. But TH is very good about sharing the laundry duties, and as soon as he runs low on T-shirts, or underwear, or blue velour shirts....he will be down the basement washing clothes.

So, dear reader, I ask you....what's a wife to do?

We haven't survived 35 years of marriage without compromise. And at this stage of the game, I've learned to pick my battles...and this definitely isn't one worth fighting over.

But come on now....seriously? 15 years of blue velour?!

And I'll guarantee he's worn them repeatedly the entire week I've been away.

I think I finally understand the closing lyrics when Bobby Vinton sang, "And I still can see blue velvet, through my tears!"

Date #7 - It's All Downhill

Long before we became a hockey family, we were downhill skiers. We skied when we were dating, and we continued skiing after we were married and had our son B. We had our own equipment (back when skis had safety straps, LOL). But once hockey took over our lives, skiing took a back seat. I can only remember a handful of times that TH and I skied together after son J was born. TH owned several businesses and he had very few days off, so usually my friend MC and I took our four boys skiing, but that decreased as the older boys approached their teens.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I had a bucket list long before they were popular. However, mine was called a "Fast Forward to 50" list....but unfortunately I wasn't able to check all 50 items off the list between my 40th and 50th birthdays, so thus it has now morphed into a bucket list.

One item on my wish list was to SKI IN COLORADO. It had always been a dream, and I was able to check that off in November 2000 when our son J was playing hockey for BU in Denver. MC and her husband JC joined us on the trip, and we stayed an extra day so we could ski. Well... MC and I skied... while TH and JC went to the casino. However, as wonderful as that experience was, it was also incredibly painful. I think it had been at least 12 years since I had last skied and I was SO out of shape, my knees were throbbing. But I had never skied on such beautiful fluffy powder and I'm still so grateful for the opportunity.

One of the other items on that original bucket list was SNOWBOARDING. How difficult would it have been to check that off the list? But somehow, I never got near a mountain again in the next ten years after Colorado. When son J moved to California, he took up the sport, and on many of my visits he offered to teach me but (really?) when I go to Southern California the last thing I want to look at is... snow.

The crazy thing is that we live 20 minutes away from a ski area, The Blue Hills. True to its name, it really is just a big hill on the outskirts of the city, and what better place to learn to snowboard? So last year I was determined to learn before the winter was over, but I waited for a warm day. On March 17th, which is a school holiday in Boston (Evacuation Day), I dragged out my skiwear and drove to the Blue Hills... only to discover that the ski area had closed for the season two days before. HaHa.

Oh well...as long suffering Boston sports fans, we know "there's always next year!"

Now this winter, as we were starting to plan our 35 dates, imagine my shock when TH suggested we go skiing together. Really?

This is a man who hates the cold, he's passed his 60th birthday, he hates being out in the cold, he's had a heart attack, he hates being cold, and it's been more than 20 years since he last skied.

It just so happens that on the same day TH recommended this date, in my email was a great discount deal from BuyWithMe.com for the Blue Hills Ski Area. I didn't hesitate, lest TH changed his mind. For $35 each, I purchased vouchers for lift tickets, equipment rentals, and lessons. And they could be redeemed for skiing or.... (wait for it) snowboarding. 



YES!





When I suggested to TH that we both try snowboarding, he emphatically said NO.

Bummer. Will it still count as a date if TH is skiing and I'm snowboarding? If we are in two separate classes? If we are on different parts of the hill? We agreed that it would count because, after our respective lessons, we would meet up and spend the rest of the date together.

Well last weekend the weather was perfect. After back-to-back-to-back blizzards, and temperatures in the single digits, the Sunday forecast called for bright sunshine and temps above the freezing mark. The ski area was only open until 5, so we arrived at 9:15 in time for the 10 am lesson.

However, the parking lot was completely filled. The annoying thing was that there were two attendants at the entrance that let all the cars drive in and snake their way through to the exit, where THAT attendant told us it was race day. When we asked where we could park, he just shrugged and told us we were on our own. We tried two more lots, but they were both filled and the attendants warned us against parking on the road, where they towed.

Strike Two for snowboarding at the Blue Hills. So home we went, pissed off, with no other plans for the day. I'm not sure why we didn't drive to the next closest ski area an hour away.

By 11:30, however, I was restless and still in my ski layers. I called the ski area to find out when the races ended, and if the parking situation had improved. I was told to come on down because the races would end at noon, and most skiers had purchased morning lift tickets only that expired at 1. So back we went.

When we reached the counter to redeem our vouchers, the teenage girl asked if we were skiing or snowboarding. One of each, I told her, just as TH interrupted and said, "No, we're both snowboarding."
Wow, really? When I looked at TH curiously, he just shrugged and said, "Why not?" And he was even so brave as to not request a helmet.

First stop, boot rental. Once again I had brought three pair of socks and tried not to think about the persons who wore those boots before me. But, LOL, when they gave us the boots, it was a little embarrassing to admit to the cute teenage boys that we had no idea how to lace them up or tighten them.

Next stop, board rental. The first thing the old guy asked was, "Are you regular?...or goofy?" Of course, TH chimed right in and answered, "Oh, I'm definitely goofy!" Normally I would agree with that statement, but turns out we were both regular (that means you lead down the hill with your left foot at the top of the board).

On to the lesson. They gave us our own instructor... probably because we were the oldest in the snowboard group and would have definitely slowed down all the 20-somethings who were waiting to learn. Of course our teacher, Matt, was only in high school himself. But he was very patient with us and loved the idea that he was part of our 35 dates.

He taught us how to put our boards on, and ride to the top of the Bunny Hill....on a conveyor belt... right next to the magic carpet ride that the little kiddies rode to the Munchkin slope. Ha Ha.

With Matt's help, we made it down the hill several times before the hour lesson was over. And then we were on our own. Once we were up on the board we were fine, but the struggle was getting up on the board.

For those of you who have never tried snowboarding...you ride the lift with just one boot strapped on. When you get to the top, you have to sit on your ass, strap your other foot in, and then attempt to stand up (with nothing to hold onto) without toppling over. I spent many hours studying the young snowboarders around us and it amazed me how effortlessly they were able to move from their butts into a standing position in one effortless motion. But we just couldn't do it. So TH and I had to help each other up every time.

Once we were on our way down the hill, it was awesome. The sun was shining, there was no wind, it was a great day to be on the slopes. I WAS FINALLY SNOWBOARDING! I could have stayed out there for hours. Unfortunately, TH's calves were cramping so he called it quits after several runs. But, being the great guy that he is, he hiked back up the hill with me and stayed up there to help me get up on the board every time.

About an hour (and a few face plants) later, I also had to concede because my butt was sore. (Who would have thought I didn't have enough padding there? LOL) Also killing me was the fleshy part of my palms, just beneath my thumbs...what is that part of the hand called? Whatever they are, they took the brunt of my falls that day.

This was my favorite date so far. It was one of those rare occasions where you laugh all day and fall in love all over again. No bickering. A perfect day.

And our date wasn't over. After we returned our equipment and dragged our tired old bodies back to the car, we went out to dinner. Nothing like outdoor activity to stimulate your appetite.

TH's birthday was the week before, and he had a complimentary coupon for a free entree at Isabella's in Dedham. Since we were in the neighborhood, we decided to cash it in. Two of the servers there also work in the school department, and one of them, D, was working that evening so she took good care of us. TH had meatloaf, and I had a wonderful salad with grilled shrimp, preceded by an absolutely delicious butternut squash soup. Ah...did I mention this was my favorite date.

We skipped dessert because the champagne and wine had made us pretty mellow, and we were stifling yawns by the time the check arrived. A perfect ending to a perfect day.

When I spoke to son J the next day, I told him how much we'd loved snowboarding, but explained the difficulty I had getting on the board (I even tried it at home and still couldn't get to a standing position from sitting on the floor...it was impossible). That's when he told me that, at the top of the mountains, they have benches to sit on and fasten your boards. He had NEVER sat on his butt in the snow to strap on. Are you kidding me?!?! Thanks for the tip, Matt. It was still fun....but next time I'm taking the lift to the top.

This will be our last date until March. Our grandbaby M arrives this week and we plan to spend every waking moment with him, when we're not working. Then I will fly back to California with them for the last week of the month...so, unless TH takes separate dates while I'm away, the tally will remain at seven for now.

And if anyone has any great date ideas....we're open to any/all suggestions.

But don't go too far away. Check back often because I have more tales to tell (about bickering and blue shirts). Stay tuned.

Date #6 - Marriage on the rocks (with lots of ice)

For 25 of our 35 married years, we spent more time in ice rinks than anywhere else on this planet. We probably watched our sons skate in 48,000 games and practices, and logged several hundred thousand miles traveling to many hundreds of rinks, in at least 30 different US states and four Canadian provinces. Some of that might be an exaggeration, but you get the picture....we spent a lot of our waking moments in rinks.

And can I tell you that those rinks were cold?
Ice cold!

You've all heard the stories about hockey parents: out shoveling in the dark to be at the rink before 5am, driving to Quebec in a blizzard, trying to tie skates when your fingers are frozen claws, standing on concrete so cold your toes might sting if you'd had any feeling left in them, skipping a day at the beach to pull on overcoats and gloves, having your snot hang in icicles from your nose, dribbling hot chocolate down your chin because your hands won't stop shaking or your teeth chattering....well those stories, dear readers, are not just romantic folklore. That was our life. Been there, done that....over and over and over again!

I'm sure you know the definition of insanity (doing the same thing over again while expecting different outcomes)...that was us, INSANE. But the silver lining was that we had plenty of company in the deep freeze, they are now life-long friends, who shared the asylum with us. Somehow we managed to convince ourselves there was no place else we'd rather be...that's MY definition of Insanity!

Can I tell you about the rinks? Did I mention they were cold? Some far more than others. The community-owned rinks were pretty severe, but by far the worst offenders were the private school rinks... Dexter, Fessenden, Milton Academy, St. Seb's. They were worse than barns....a barn would have been an improvement. Milton only had three walls! Dexter was a Coleman cooler with aluminum sides. Seriously, these schools charged a zillion dollars for tuition, had billionaire alums and benefactors, and they couldn't afford to insulate their rinks? But at least they had rinks on campus. Our younger son's school, Thayer, didn't even have its own rink....and the private facility where they skated, Pilgrim Arena, was just another fancy icebox.

But lo and behold, just as our sons were aging out of youth and high-school hockey, newer rinks were built that actually took pity on the frostbitten parents. Rinks today have Dunkin Donuts (Bridgewater) and warm lounges with adult beverages in the arena and shopping malls next door (Marlboro). But unfortunately our sons were born a decade too early and we didn't get to enjoy the luxury of the new and improved private school rinks. Milton Academy, Dexter, Andover, BB&N....they all built brand new sports complexes. St.Sebs renovated and insulated their arena. and Thayer Academy moved their game to a brand new sportplex in Canton.

Now when one of my dear high school friends (MJ) heard about our 35 dates, she recommended a hockey game. Her younger son, who has the same name as our younger son, is now a student at Thayer and she thought we'd enjoy strolling back down memory lane to watch the black and orange play. When I told TH, he loved the idea. (Did I mention all those hours in the cold numbed our minds and killed off many brain cells?)

However, when MJ sent us the link to the team's schedule, we discovered there was only one game we could attend. It was an Away game against Roxbury Latin and it was being played at Dexter. Had this been 15 years earlier, we would have passed on the opportunity to watch one more game in that frozen tin can. But we didn't hesitate because Dexter now has a beautiful (warm) new sports arena.

We were quite impressed as we drove onto the campus where there is now a grand planetarium as well. And we were able to park on the roof of the complex and take an indoor staircase two flights down to the bleachers. Now THIS is how to watch a hockey game.

We didn't see our friends in the stands, but we watched the players warming up to see if we could pick out their son. Just as we realized that the home team was wearing Dexter sweaters, we heard someone behind us ask where the Roxbury Latin team was playing. We also heard the dreaded answer: "Oh, they're playing Thayer... across the street... in the old rink."

TH and I just looked at each other and grinned like fools. We didn't say a word, just followed that man out the door, across the street, down the ramp, and into our worst nightmare. The OLD Dexter rink.

It was like stepping back in time. Nothing had changed. It was still brutally cold, and you had to stand on aluminum bleachers (with no backs) to get your toes off the floor and to (barely) see over the safety glass.
And MJ never showed, she was in Nashville visiting another son, but her husband JJ soon joined us and it was good to see him.

Once we got over the absurdity of the situation, we did enjoy watching the game. Our son's old athletic director was behind the bench, and MJ's son played a phenomenal game. He has incredible speed and great finesse, although he did get a penalty which brought back fond memories of our own 'Jack in the Box.' He's one of the bigger players on the team, and I have a feeling we'll be watching him play more often (in warmer rinks, of course). Here's a photo of #28.

Turns out that he was not the only player we knew on the team. There were three other players (from both teams) with South Boston connections, so we enjoyed cheering for this game. But one thing TH and I both noticed....we were pretty much the only spectators clapping. It was the quietest crowd I'd ever heard! The game was a 4-0 shutout in Thayer's favor, but you'd never know because neither side was cheering. Are today's hockey parents so pampered by their plush new rinks that their hands froze inside their pockets when they experienced old-school hockey?

When that final buzzer sounded, we couldn't get out of there fast enough and into our heated car where we attempted to get the blood circulating in our extremeties again. The date was far from over, however, as we hadn't eaten yet. But first we had to make a stop at a wake in Cambridge for the mother of TH's co-worker. Did I mention this was a Friday nite? And that we had to travel from Brookline to Cambridge at rush hour on snow-clogged streets that were mostly reduced to one lane? Needless to say, we had PLENTY of time to thaw our fingers and toes.

After the wake, we drove through Inman Square and we were so hungry that we stopped at the first restaurant that had a parking space out front. Turned out to be a very good choice: S&S Restaurant.
This restaurant has apparently been open since 1919, and it has a genuine kosher deli in addition to many other menu selections. We arrived around 6:30 and they seated us in the lounge area, where we quickly noticed that every patron, every server, even the lovely barmaid, had grey hair. I almost expected them to ask us for senior citizen IDs. The couples sitting at the bar appeared to be regulars that knew each other and dined there often. I think I would enjoy hanging out with that crew if we lived closer.

The champagne was served by the glass and it was just "eh", but my meal was delicious. I had crab and shrimp cakes in the most delicious lemon sauce, with butternut squash. TH had merlot and a Rachel (LOL). He was most excited about the half-sour pickles. Then we shared a molten lava chocolate cake with whipped cream and ice cream. Delicious. I swear I would eat liver if it had whipped cream on it...can never get enough!! I highly recommend the S&S Restaurant if you are ever in Inman Square.

I think, however, we may have to stop including restaurants as part of our dates, because it's hard to be good when there are so many delicious (fattening) options to wash down with wine. And TH rarely passes up dessert, that of course I need to sample. With all this snow, we can't ride our bikes or take walks with our grandson....so unless we're shoveling, we are pretty sedentary in the winter.

What's that, you say.. visit a gym?

What's that?

Date #5 - Set 'em up, Spin 'em round, Knock 'em down...

Let's go bowling.

So TH picked date #5 and we went bowling. (okay it wasn't wrestling so I didn't complain). And bowling definitely counts as a date we haven't done together recently or, for that matter, since before we were married...when we were actually dating. And you know what, it was fun and we had a lot of laughs.

I had made plans to go bowling the week before with my high school girlfriends, and when I told TH he was a little disappointed. That's when he told me he had been planning that for our next date. As it turns out, I was sick in bed on the day the girls went bowling and I couldn't join them.

On Sunday morning we went out for brunch with two couples that are our oldest friends. The guys are TH's childhood pals and we try to get together several times a year....but definitely every January for Sunday brunch. We had a great time, as we always do...but once we were back home we realized we had the rest of Sunday ahead of us with nothing to do (and the Patriots were out of the playoffs). That's when TH announced it was date time. (I'm so excited that he is really embracing this concept.) Plus I needed some exercise to work off the huge buffet we had just devoured.

So off we went to Boston Bowl. On the way we tried to recall the last time we'd been bowling together and we couldn't remember even one time since we'd been married. Oh, we had been to Boston Bowl many times prior, they are open all night long and it was always a popular place to end dates after the clubs closed. I was on the bowling team in high school, and TH and I were both in a league sponsored by the bar that sponsored his softball team before we were married. Both of those teams bowled at Lucky Strikes, another local bowling alley.

When our sons were growing up we took them to many bowling alleys, usually when they attended birthday parties, but neither of us could ever remember bowling with the kids. Often TH took the boys on his own, but he said they played games in the arcade, or they shot pool...but never bowled. And TH and I remembered having breakfast at the cafe inside the bowling alley many, many, many times...but apparently we never bowled on those occasions either. Weird.

This bowling alley has both ten pin and candlepin. We had always bowled candlepin (little balls). For a few minutes we contemplated trying ten pin...that would have been a brand new experience for both of us. But we didn't even know how many balls to roll for each frame. And then we each picked up a ball and practiced swinging our arms and decided NAH...those balls are pretty heavy. We'll stick with the little balls.

Now bowling is pretty intuitive....there is no learning curve involved here. It's not like riding a bike or skiing, you can stay away for thirty-five years and get right back in the groove after rolling the first ball. But the experience has certainly changed. For starters, everything is digital! There are TV monitors everywhere.

While you're bowling you can watch poker, football, advertisements, or your own scorecard. However, it was sensory overload, like a casino, with all the noises and blinking lights. Apparently on weekend nights they even have something called Cosmic Bowling where they turn off the lights and flood everything in neon. Yikes!


Oh...something else that was new....the lanes had bumpers along the gutters. What? no gutter balls? There were some little kids bowling in the alley adjacent to ours, and (not intentionally) their balls were banking off the bumpers and knocking down far more pins than we were hitting when we rolled our balls straight down the lane. It was crazy. We found out afterwards that the bumpers are removed for league play, and we could have requested they be lowered, as well.

You don't even have to keep score anymore while bowling, it's all done automatically for you. Good thing...because I'm not sure either of us would have remembered how to keep score. But that meant no more cheating or practice balls...every roll down the alley is recorded electronically. We only bowled one string because, quite frankly, we both sucked. Those little kids next to us did better than we did. And TH beat me soundly by 11 points, but that's not saying much!

I think one of the reasons I stayed away from bowling for more than three decades is my aversion to putting my foot into rental shoes that complete strangers have sweat in. But lo and behold, now with the price of the shoe rental, you receive a brand new pair of socks. Of course they have the business logo on them and you would never want to wear them again, LOL.

Just to be on the safe side, I had also brought an extra pair of my own socks....so I had to order a size 9 shoe to accommodate the three pair of socks. TH thought I was insane, but what else is new?

When we turned our shoes in, they let us donate our new socks to charity. Really? We did of course, because we had no further use for them. However, I couldn't help but picture all these homeless people in shelters walking around with socks that say "Boston Bowl" "Open24/7" on them. Hmmmm. Now I am wondering if this was really a scam and the socks are just being washed in the back room and passed off again as brand new to unsuspecting shoe renters. Okay, call me paranoid.

On the way home we discussed how weird it was to not have done something for 35 years. It's hard to believe we are actually old enough to say we haven't done something in 35 years!

...and when we stop to realize how quickly those 35 years passed, it's difficult to fathom that we probably won't even be alive 35 years from now. I have a feeling we won't let that many years go by again before we go bowling.

Date #4 - the Bad Samaritan and the Baton Guy

After two snow days with nothing to do but shovel and catch up with my DVR, I decided we needed a date nite. After all, it had been 13 days since our last date.

Oh...we had been out together often in those 13 days....but nothing that qualified as an official date. So, the minute TH arrived home from work Thursday afternoon, I announced it was date nite.

Now I fully expected TH to complain or beg off. This poor guy is out the door by 4am every day. He spends much of his day outside in the elements down at the fish pier where it can be brutally cold. So unless we are going to play with grandson CB, he wants nothing more after work than to land on the couch under his heated electric throw (the best present he EVER received) with remote in hand.

TH didn't even complain when I explained we would be taking the bus to the Copley Library to hear Keith Lockhart as part of the Lowell Lecture Series. However, he thought I meant the #11 bus that runs right by our house. But that would involve a connection...completely unnecessary, when just five short blocks from our home we could catch the #9 bus that would deliver us to the library's front door.

Did I mention that the first three blocks of those short five blocks are completely UPHILL? That's when TH finally started to complain. But at least he didn't complain about the cold, despite the 11 chilly degrees. As neither of us is in very good shape, by the time we reached the bus stop we had worked up quite a sweat.

The bus was rather crowded at 5pm, so we sat in the front two seats....those reserved for the elderly or disabled. TH felt we met one of the requirements LOL (but we would have been prepared to give up our seats if needed). Directly across from us, occupying the middle of three seats, was a gentleman who was sound asleep - sitting upright (or as upright as you can be when you are inebriated and riding on a city bus navigating narrow streets on the day following a blizzard). He was fairly clean and didn't look to be homeless or a vagrant.

We didn't recognize him, but he appeared to be a construction worker, mid 40s (wearing a green do-rag with shamrocks and a union pin on his jacket), who maybe stopped off and had one-too-many on his way home. But hell, it was only 5pm. And given the weather, maybe he hadn't worked at all that day.

Nonetheless, he nodded and swayed with every turn the bus made and rarely opened  his eyes. He provided some lively entertainment for the tired commuters, but nobody bothered him. We watched in amazement as he listed pretty far in either direction, but never fell over. And no matter how crowded the bus continued to get, nobody took the open seats on either side of him.

Nearing the end of the line, we assumed this dude had missed his stop at some point, as he didn't seem the type who lived in Copley Square. Although he was sitting directly behind the bus driver, he was hidden from view by a large partition, so we wondered exactly how long he had been riding the #9 that evening.

When we were a block from Copley, I stood up and attempted to wake the guy. TH tried to stop me, but I thought I was being a good samaritan. He opened his eyes long enough for me to ask if he'd missed his stop, but promptly shut them again as he shook his head. So me...being the busybody I can't help but be, pointed him out to the bus driver who quickly responded, "Doesn't matter if he missed his stop, I'm kicking him out here."

And sure enough, the bus driver let us off and followed us down the steps where he asked all the frigid commuters waiting on the sidewalk to please wait a moment longer while he removed a passenger. I was aghast. We didn't stay to watch him do it, because it was just minutes before 6pm when the lecture was scheduled to begin and we were afraid there might not be seats left for the free event. But I can assure you, I felt absolutely horrible. I couldn't believe that I was suddenly responsible for putting another human being out in the bitter cold. I had only tried to help. I couldn't get him out of my mind the rest of the nite, and I still haven't forgotten him. Why didn't I listen to TH?

Nonetheless, we ran into the library and entered the Rabb Lecture Hall only to stop and look around in utter amazement. In an auditorium that seats around 350 people, there were (maybe) 50 people in the hall.

.......To listen to Keith Lockhart speak.

......For free.

We took our seats down near the front but I kept turning around and thinking, 'surely there is a private cocktail reception going on somewhere and any moment throngs of people will enter the auditorium'. But I was wrong. And as the honored guest appeared on stage, to surely the quietest smattering of applause he has ever received, I was actually embarrassed for him.

This is the Lowell Lecture Series, people. The Lowell Institute of Boston has been sponsoring this and other great lecture series throughout the city, free of charge, since 1836. Their specific mission is "making great ideas accessible to all people." Charles Dickens was one of their early speakers. My understanding is that they pay the lecturers hefty fees for their appearances. 

This was the first nite of the 2011 series at the Boston Public Library that will be featuring 'Boston's Best' with Keith Lockhart as the headline speaker. We are so fortunate to live in such a culturally rich city where we have the opportunity to witness great masters as they ply their trades in the arts, academia, and athletics. Unfortunately, I think all too often we take for granted our bounty of riches....I know that I'm guilty....and don't partake of all our great city has to offer.

This nite was a perfect example. Sure we've all seen Keith Lockhart perform at the Christmas Pops or the 4th of July on the Esplanade. And if we haven't seen him in person, we've seen him on TV and heard him on the radio. Well, so have people in Japan, Italy, Australia, and Ecuador. But they don't take him for granted, and they can't hang out with him at the local library. It will be a pity if events like this cease to exist due to lack of interest.

Okay....I'm climbing down off my soapbox.

I do think Keith Lockhart was also taken aback by the size of the audience, but of course the weather served as the perfect defense. He thanked everyone profusely for braving the cold, and he invited everyone to move down into the front seats since it was such an intimate crowd. He waited patiently while most attendees changed their seats. He then spoke for about 30 minutes and what he had to say was fascinating. He was also pretty easy on the eyes!

But midway through, I stopped staring at the hottie on the stage long enough to glance over at TH who was by then doing a pretty good imitation of the dude on the bus. Are you kidding me!?

As if Keith Lockhart wasn't humbled enough... now he finds himself speaking to this old guy sitting right in front of him WITH HIS EYES CLOSED! Seriously, if I was the speaker I would have pitched my water bottle at  him. Instead TH got my foot planted firmly on his, which elicited the same response my sons and I have witnessed for years during mass (or whenever someone tried to remove the remote from his sleeping hands)....the eyes flew open wide and he muttered, "I'm awake."

Keith Lockhart continued on...we learned a bit about his predecessors, Arthur Fiedler, and John Willliams, and the good fortune that brought him to such an esteemed position at the young age of 35. He did touch on one topic that always strikes a nerve...the near extinction of arts education in our schools. (But that's another soapbox you don't want me to climb on)! Then he proclaimed that he was a much better talker than he was a public speaker, so he opened the last 30 minutes to questions.

And he fielded some tough ones with great diplomacy. There were some savvy symphony devotees in the crowd and they knew their stuff. But there were also some fun questions; about Shaq's stint as a guest conductor (he complained afterwards that his arms were sore); and one person actually had the nerve to ask exactly what the conductor did, other than wave his baton.

Unfortunately, he was limited to just one hour...and we hated to see it end. The hostess then announced that Keith Lockhart would join us in the lobby shortly afterward to autograph Boston Pops CDs that Barnes and Nobles staff were selling. We decided not to stick around because, although I would have loved to chat with Keith Lockhart, we had no intention of buying any CDs that evening. It would have been like attending a friend's Tupperware party and leaving empty-handed.

Now it was only 7:00, and we were hungry. We'd scarfed down a quick meatloaf dinner before leaving the house, but that had been at 4:30 (talk about an early bird special) so we decided to grab dessert, or at least a drink. I wanted more than anything to go to Pinkberry's, but that would have meant a walk of several blocks on a frigid nite, so we opted for the Prudential Center next door. After walking around the mall and surveying our options, we decided on the Cheesecake Factory. Although we have been to this restaurant chain many times, we never went JUST for dessert, so we didn't technically break our rule....just severely bent it.

However, choosing our cheesecake was a whole other matter...it was just so hard to decide. They really should offer a tasting sampler where you can purchase a tiny sliver of 3-5 different flavors. And when we voiced that opinion to our server, she assured us we weren't the first to suggest this.

Hello, Cheesecake Factory corporate heads...give the consumer what they want, please.

We each selected something decadent and decided to forego the drinks. I had gained seven lbs between Thanksgiving and New Years, and had managed to lose three of them quickly by avoiding the carbs. So on this night, I chose what I thought was the lesser of the two evils (cheese doesn't have any carbs, right?) LOL.

Needless to say, we should have split one portion, but instead we each ordered our own and licked the platters clean! Bad decision! We rolled ourselves out the door and down the street to the bus stop, feeling like tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum. (I knew we should have gone to Pinkberry)!

The ride home was uneventful, except that we sat with two young girls we knew. They were on their way home from the gym....and were making plans to attend a spin class together the next morning before work. All we could think of was how much we'd just ingested. That, and getting home into bed and trying to stay awake for Jersey Shore!

Once off the bus, it was another five cold downhill blocks to our home, and the temperature was still dropping. On the way, we discussed our date and how we really needed to pump up the excitement for future dates. TH announced that he always wanted to see a wrestling match. Whaaat? Wrestling?...really?

I reminded him that he had surely taken the boys to wrestling matches at the Garden, but he couldn't remember. So I phoned each of our sons and they assured me that YES they went to wrestling matches with their dad when they were younger. But, then they each surprised me by saying they thought it was a great idea and that I should let TH take me to a wrestling event for one of our dates.

Really?

It wasn't enough that I let him pick The Fighter for our last date and I had to watch humans get pummeled on the screen? Now I have to watch fat guys in tights slam each other around in a fake fight? and pay big bucks for the pleasure? I think I'd rather have my gums scaled without novocaine.

But after all, TH is entitled to pick one date a month. Let's just hope the wrestling matches are like the circus that only comes once a year....and that I'm out of town on that day.

Date #3 - Finally Fireworks!

New Year's Eve probably shouldn't count as one of our 35 dates (nor should birthdays or Valentine's Day when we are EXPECTED to celebrate) but....as I explained in the preceding post... since we haven't truly been awake at midnite on NYE since 2006, and we weren't invited to any parties, we made specific plans to celebrate this year... and thus it's a date!

This was TH's date to plan. TH didn't choose any of the First Nite festivities because those are geared more for families with kids. TH really wanted to take one of the Boston Harbor cruises to view the fireworks, however there was just one "fireworks-only" cruise that lasted one hour, but that was alcohol-free and it was sold out (aw shucks). All the other cruises involved dinner/dancing/drinking from 8pm to 1am.

FIVE HOURS!?  No thanks, (we all remember what happened to Gilligan and co. on their three-hour tour). I didn't want to be held captive anywhere for five hours (especially with only TH for company...what on earth would we talk about for five consecutive hours?...and how much alcohol would we consume?)

Ultimately TH decided on a movie, Chinese food, and fireworks. And since I had already nixed his plan for the cruise, I let him select the movie (I wanted 'Black Swan') and the food (I wanted Thai....which he pronounces THIGH no matter how many times he's corrected LOL). Since group dates are allowed, we hoped our best friends (M&J) would join us, but J wanted no part of it. And furthermore, when TH explained to J the concept of our 35 dates, his response was: "Dump her. Too expensive."

We saw The Fighter, which was okay, although watching humans get pummeled is not my idea of entertainment. I did enjoy all the females in the movie, however. LMAO. They reminded me of so many women from Southie and were well worth the price of admission. (Which by the way was $1 less for TH with his senior discount, LOL).

From there it was on to Cathay Pacific which was a show in itself. There was a live band in the lounge, and about 80 people in the lobby waiting to pick up their take-out orders (since this is the only Chinese restaurant I ever heard of that doesn't deliver). With all this entertainment, we didn't mind the 20 minute wait to be seated and, wouldn't you know, TH meets up with an old Southie boxer (who knows Micky Ward and Dickie Ekland well) and together they reviewed The Fighter and gave it just one boxing glove.

Now, if anyone is paying attention, I know our ground rules say that dinner must be at a new restaurant that we haven't tried before. But TH has decided to apply a 10-year rule, and since we haven't dined together at this restaurant since at least the last century, TH deemed it acceptable.

After too much food, and several Pineapple Passion and Love Potion drinks, we were ready to be rolled home. However, the fortune in my cookie stated:

ooooh.....so it was on to the fireworks!

Now the mere mention of fireworks is enough to make us laugh out loud, because they always elicit fond memories of our first date. And as we rode by the scene of the crime last evening, we couldn't help reminiscing about July 4th, 1973.

Truthfully, we don't even remember if this was our first OFFICIAL date (cut us some slack, it was 37 years ago and I can't recall much that happened even 37 days ago) but it's the one date that we apparently have yet to forget.

I had met TH the year before when I started working at Dunkin Donuts. (Yes I met a baker at a donut shop!) In that year, we spent a lot of time together, mostly in large groups because my friends and I were still in high school and he and his roommate let us hang out at their apartment. The only time we spent alone was when TH and I rode bikes together, which we did often, all over the city. But those weren't dates; we were just good friends. (and someday remind me to tell you about our first bike ride)

My weekend shift at the donut shop started at 6am, and sometimes TH would just be stumbling home at that hour. If I had to work on holidays, I liked to dress in costume to commemorate the occasion. So on this particular 4th of July, I dressed up as a firecracker (wearing a red swimming cap with pipecleaners and Christmas tinsel sticking out of the top) and walked the three blocks from my home to work. TH was on the other side of the avenue when he spotted me, but thought he was hallucinating (hey, it was the 70s) and he continued on home.

When he awoke hours later and came to the donut shop for a cup of tea, TH realized it wasn't a bad trip he'd been on after all...it was only me! Then he invited me to the beach later that evening to watch the fireworks, and I accepted. Just the two of us...at nite...I guess that counts as a first date.

Back then, the 4th of July fireworks in Boston were set off in the outer harbor, and visible from most of the area beaches. (The esplanade spectacular only became popular after the bicentennial in 1976 and soon became the only fireworks display in Boston on the 4th). We both lived in Dorchester at the time and could have easily walked to Carson Beach, but TH wanted to drive over to Tenean Beach. I explained I had a curfew and had to be home as soon as the fireworks were over. After all, I was only 15!)

We arrived at the beach early and chose to chill out in the car until the fireworks started. I'm guessing we had munchie food with us, and probably some GI-Qs or Boone's Farm wine. For some reason, neither of us can remember any of those details. What we vaguely remember is that Maryjane was in the car with us. And most of the cars around us were also enjoying Maryjane's company with the windows rolled down on that foggy summer nite.

For everyone whose jaw just hit the floor, especially my sons who might want to stop reading now, let me reiterate that it was the 70s, the drinking age was 18, and (like Bill Clinton) I didn't inhale. And nobody had warned us yet about the evils of second-hand smoke. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

So I slept with TH on our first date.

NO....not in the biblical sense. I don't even remember if we kissed that night. (okay, we probably kissed)

But we did sleep together. Soundly. I don't remember who woke up first, but the parking lot was mostly empty.

Shit....did we really sleep through the fireworks? How sleepy were we?

"We fell asleep, our goose is cooked, our reputation is shot."

In 1957, the Everly Brothers recorded "Wake Up, Little Susie" and it was promptly banned in Boston for it's suggestive lyrics. However, turns out it was just about two kids who fell asleep at a boring drive-in movie.

But I had missed curfew.

"What are we going to tell your Mama, what are we going to tell your Pop?

What are we going to tell our friends when they go, Ooh La La?"

We still couldn't believe we'd slept through the fireworks. TH drove me home as quick as possible and on the way we decided that, since it wasn't very late, I would tell my parents that we actually drove to Marshfield to see their fireworks because it had been so foggy in Dorchester. (Thank goodness this was long before cell phones). TH pretty much figured that nite would be the last date my parents would ever allow.

When I walked in and told my sainted mother the white lie we'd concocted, instead of grounding me for the rest of the summer, she told me that it was a good decision we'd made because she heard on the news that the Boston fireworks had been cancelled due to fog.

Whew!

So as we drove past Tenean last nite, we once again had a good laugh. We didn't park there to view the fireworks, however, we knew they wouldn't be visible from that location. Instead we drove to the fish pier where we enjoyed front-row seating and actually stayed awake for the wonderful fireworks display.

Happy New Year!

Oh...one more thing. You may have noticed there is a new box on this blog called Angels Among Us. Although I pledge not to make any resolutions I can't keep, I have decided I want to recognize some of the selfless good samaritans we encounter every day, and going forward I will try to get their names (which I won't publish) and write them a letter of thanks if possible.

Yesterday morning, TH and I drove to Logan to see our son and his family off on their trip, and to drive their car and dog back to our home. When we arrived home, a state trooper phoned to let me know he had picked up my cell phone and would hold it for me. I hadn't even realized I'd dropped it. But despite the mad traffic he and his partner were trying to keep flowing, he had taken the time to phone the last person who'd called me (my daughter-in-law) and then get my home number. I quickly drove back over, and it was still a madhouse at terminal C departures, but Lieutenant MK couldn't have been more pleasant. A Dunkin Donuts gift card is in the mail to his barracks.

Had he not taken the time, yesterday would probably have been a crazy day of stress and anxiety trying to locate my phone, not to mention I wouldn't have been able to share with you the photographs of my fortune or the fireworks. Ever grateful.....he made my day!

Date #2 - The Early Bird Special

Yesterday we had our second date....at Boston's annual First Night Senior Celebration at the Seaport World Trade Center.


The city treated more than 2300 elderly residents from the various Senior Centers and apartment complexes to an early New Year's Eve celebration with music, dancing, food, performances, noisemakers and hats. It was a rocking good time.

and No...we weren't guests LOL. (although we could have been because we spotted some imposters in the crowd who were clearly younger than TH and me!)

We were actually part of the army of volunteers that made the event possible. We were joined by a large contingent of young high school and college students who gave up a day of their winter break and really worked hard to make the event a success. There were also many city employees involved (who were released from their desks to take part in the event), but TH and I are both on vacation this week so it was truly a volunteer effort for us.

Neither of us is big on new year resolutions, but we do recognize our blessings and resolve every year to try our best to pay it forward. And since this was a new event for us, we figured we could count it as a date as well.

After all, what constitutes a date? I Googled the question....and discovered there were more than 137 million results. I didn't read past the first three and decided that, YES, it is still a date even if it's daylight and there is no romance or alcohol involved.

Here's the itinerary:
8:15am: check-in and receive our T-Shirts and assignment. We were designated as table runners for the Purple section. Yup, that means we got to wear purple t-shirts, size XL only.
9:00am: continental breakfast followed by volunteer briefing in ampitheatre
10:00am: set up. Every team had a task in preparing the 230 tables that would seat 10 guests each.

The purple team had a very important task: Salt and Pepper. Yesiree....there were a dozen of us dressed like Barney the dinosaur, hunched over a long table in the prep area, counting out those little tiny packets. We were instructed to place 10 salt packets and 10 pepper packets on a plastic plate for each table.

Are you kidding me?! Okay, I can understand the Green group having to count out exactly ten dinner rolls for each basket...but salt and pepper? What if a senior wanted an extra packet, or two? Or what if they wanted to take a few extras home in their purse? But....NO, we diligently counted out EXACTLY ten salt and ten pepper for each table.

When we were finished, every table was beautifully set with 10 paper napkins, 10 plastic knives, 10 plastic forks, 10 party hats, 10 noisemakers, and one plastic plate with exactly ten salt and ten pepper packets.

You can barely see the salt and pepper plate, it's partially obscured by a hat in the photo above. Oh, there was also a placard on every table with instructions in many languages reminding them to remain seated after the event until their bus is called. Excuse me....I thought this was an event for Seniors, not pre-schoolers!

At 10:30, the fun began when the buses started to roll up. The early arrivers were clearly veterans of these events and they knew exactly where the prime tables were located. We didn't witness any fights, but there was a lot of seat-saving and finger-pointing going on. There were also quite a few noisemakers swiped from the not-yet occupied tables.

By 11:45, the hall was abuzz with excitement and sequins. Many of the Seniors were dressed in their most gala attire, men and women alike. However, I did note that the men were out-numbered about 40 to 1 and I quickly pointed out to TH that the longevity odds were not in his favor. OK, so maybe the guys just chose to sit out this dance....which only reinforces the power of girlfriends. Those ole gals were having a grand old time together!

I did notice, however, that the tables with the Asian groups had many more couples celebrating together. So if there are any unmarried girls out there looking to mate for life....you may want to look in that direction. Or at the very least.... marry a much younger man!

At 11:59 the countdown began. With the Mayor recovering from knee surgery, his wife Angela did the honors. There were no fireworks, but plenty of cheering as the clock struck....NOON.

That's when we went to work, and in less than 20 minutes the volunteer worker bees had delivered to every table a basket of 10 buns, 10 bottles of water, and 10 plastic plates piled high with turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, peas/carrots, cranberry sauce and gravy.

Just as swiftly, we cleared the tables in preparation for dessert. It did break my heart a little when several Seniors requested tea instead of coffee, or asked if they should keep their forks for the final course. We sadly informed them that there would be no hot beverages served, but we'd be happy to refill their empty spring water bottles. And no, they wouldn't be needing a fork, because dessert was ONE individually wrapped Hostess cupcake, fresh out of the box.

But, you know what struck me most, we never heard one complaint from the Seniors. Every one of them enjoyed the afternoon, many danced, every one smiled, they posed for pictures, hugged each other, were polite and respectful.

It so happens that we bumped into our older son, a reporter who, unbeknownst to us, was covering the event for the major metropolitan newspaper. He told us that all the Seniors he questioned, as to what they'd like for the new year, their answers were all similar versions of either world peace or good health.

It was a pleasure and an honor to serve this grateful group of citizens who still recognize the importance of celebrating special occasions with old friends. They fully understand that they have fewer new years ahead of them than those in their rear view mirrors, but they are going to enjoy every last one.

It also got us thinking that we, ourselves, really need to celebrate the new year...because we never know when the year ahead could be our last.

New Year's Eve has rarely been a celebration for us. When the boys were little, we didn't like to leave them with sitters. As they grew a little older, we were usually exhausted from spending the week at hockey tournaments. We enjoyed staying in and sharing Chinese Food while watching the 3 Stooges with our best friends, the C family. By the time our sons were in high school and wanting to celebrate with their own friends, we didn't dare leave the house..lest we missed an important phone call (this was long before cell phones).

From 2000-2005, I joined the L Street Brownies in their annual dip in the ocean on New Year's day....but TH refused to join the festivities.

The past few years we've travelled on New Year's eve day. Last year we arrived home after a 14 hour drive from Virginia and I guarantee we weren't awake at midnite. The two previous years were spent flying home from California (We've discovered that flights are much cheaper on December 31st) and I'm pretty sure jet lag had us snoring soundly by the time that ball dropped in Times Square.

And speaking of Times Square....everyone must celebrate New Year's Eve there at least once. We did in 2006, and I must admit that has probably ruined every future celebration for us because I don't believe ANY New Year's Eve will ever top that magical nite. EVER!

I had a bucket list long before they were popular. On my 40th birthday, I made a list of 50 things I wanted to do before I turned 50. I was fortunate to complete 32 items before that milestone birthday, and a few more after....still working on it!

However, one of those items was to celebrate New Year's Eve in Times Square. As 2007 was fast approaching, I realized this was my last chance to check this off the list before I turned 50. TH was on board, and truthfully he has gone out of his way to help me complete the list. We tried to enlist the members of our Supper Club. At first they sounded enthusiastic and everyone was on board (and it didn't hurt that two of the guys worked for Amtrak and we could enjoy a free ride to/from the Big Apple) but as the day approached, everyone backed out and we cancelled the plans.

But on December 31st I was still itching to go. And TH learned long ago that when I get an itch, he had better scratch it or he'll never stop listening to me whine, so he agreed to drive down to New York City. I believe his decision was also influenced by the unseasonably mild weather we were having. TH is a man who HATES the cold, and will take part in very few outdoor activities in the winter. It was also a Sunday, so he realized the traffic would not be an issue.

It was almost 1pm by the time we decided to go, and we hadn't eaten since breakfast, but there was no time for lunch. We grabbed many layers of clothing and hopped on I-95. We didn't stop to eat along the way either, because we strategized that we needed to get there as soon as possible to stake out a location, and then we'd eat. Ha! We still laugh about that naive decision.

We were in Gotham City by 5pm. We parked on West 109th Street in front of our son's former apartment because we knew our car would be safe and it was inches from the subway. Once underground we learned that all the platforms near Times Sq. were closed, so we exited at Columbus Circle and started walking down Broadway. It was crowded, and all the sidewalks were barricaded, you were only allowed on if you had a ticket to an event at a hotel or restaurant.

We continued walking down the middle of Broadway, past the David Letterman theatre and noticed many people had stopped there in front of a jumbotron with a video feed from Times Square. How odd, I thought, that folks would watch the festivities from 53rd Street, when Times Square was just 11 blocks away. So on we continued noticing that every block was enclosed by a corral of fences, but we continued walking until we couldn't walk anymore. Why had everyone come to a complete standstill?

We tried to walk around the crowd, but there was no passage way. When we questioned a police officer about the holdup, he just laughed and said, "that's as far as you're going tonite!" What?! We were only at 50th street. We couldn't even see the ball because we were beyond the curve to Times Square. Shortly after they sealed off the corral behind us and we were penned in. Now I understood why there was a crowd back at Letterman.

Now I can be a bit claustrophobic, and I don't love crowds. So we made our way to the edge of the pen to assess our situation. At the back NW corner of the pen was an exit, but you could only exit to the north, away from Times Square, and if you left....you could not return. You had to go all the way back to Central Park and start over again. That meant you could not exit for food, or bathrooms. We would be stuck there until midnite, still another 6 hours away. There was an entire contingent of rookie cops on duty at these exits and they took their command very seriously.

After 30 minutes or so, many families with young children, and other folks with growling stomachs or weak bladders, gave up and left when they realized this was not where they wanted to celebrate the new year. Therefore, they opened the corral in front of us and allowed us to surge forward. Hooray, we'd made it to 49th street! And if we stood on our absolute tippey-toes at the back corner (because they would not let you climb on the barrier) we could actually see the teeny-tiny crystal ball way up in the sky.

So there we stood for hours, not relinquishing our spot that happened to be right next to the exit. From there we listened to every excuse possible as folks pleaded to leave temporarily or try to rejoin their families. TH started manning the exit gate and patiently explaining the process to everyone trying to leave and, sometimes if a cop turned his back, letting folks sneak back in.

Now our son is a journalist, and that was my undergrad degree...so I would like to believe some of his great writing skills rubbed off from me. But truthfully, TH is the original reporter in our family. He will interview anyone, no matter where we are, be it the server at a restaurant, the cab driver, or the person bagging our groceries. Sometimes the interview sounds more like an interrogation, however, and we have to reign him in. And this nite was no exception.

While I was taking in the sites and enjoying watching the crazy world pass before my eyes, TH was inteviewing every policeman on duty. He struck up a lengthy conversation with an undercover detective, about our age, wearing dirty jeans and a ratty old sweatshirt underneath the gold shield hanging from his neck. The man appeared bored by his assignment, and quite frankly didn't care whether anyone exited or entered our corral. and he stood and listened as TH told him where we were from, why we were there, etc. etc.

Somewhere around 10:00, I overhear this nice man ask TH, "Do you two want to move up further?" We didn't quite understand his question, but we said, "Sure." I'll admit I was a little afraid he was only moving us up to the front of our corral and I'd have to give up my only chance of seeing the ball drop. But we followed him out the exit and onto the sacred sidewalk.

Suddenly, it was like we were following Moses as the Red Sea parted. At every intersection, the young rookies scrambled to move the barricades and say, "Good evening, Captain." He would point a thumb at us and mumble, "They're with me." As we kept walking he told TH that he'd been watching us all evening and observed that we never complained, and tried to help everyone around us. He declared us to be his good deed for the nite.

We kept walking, right into the bright lights of Times Square. It was like Dorothy when she first sees Oz. My jaw was on the ground, but TH just kept right on walking and talking to the Captain. We walked past Anderson Cooper and the CNN stage and I wanted to take a picture but we were still walking. We passed Vanessa Minillo and Nick Lachey nuzzling underneath the MTV stage, and still we kept walking.

Then a final barricade was moved aside for us and the Captain informed the cop on duty, "These two are my guests." We barely managed to say Thank You, before our angel disappeared. We never even learned his name. But he had deposited us right in the middle of Times Square, in the VIP pit area right next to the stage where Ryan Seacrest and Dick Clark presided, and directly under the crystal ball.

We arrived in time to hear Rascal Flatts, Daughtry, and Christina Aguilera perform. We could literally reach out and touch the staircase they used to exit the stage. We were in dreamland and could not believe our good fortune. There was a red carpet leading from our pit to a hotel where we could warm up or use the rest room. TH made the trip, but I was afraid they might not let us back in so I saved his spot.


The 90 minutes we spent in that pit were magical. We were given noisemakers, pins, and pom poms. But the folks who arrived earlier in the day had all kinds of loot such as fleece hats and scarves, thunder sticks, snacks, beverages and box lunches. But we weren't complaining. We just didn't want to wake up from what was surely a dream.

Just before midnite, they played John Lennon's, "Imagine." Everyone sang along, it was quite magical. And then we counted down and saw that crystal ball make it's very short journey into 2007. They released a blizzard of confetti that was actually little cards from Target with messages of inspiration. I still keep two in my jewelry box that say, "Cheer" and "Peace."

Immediately after midnite, the speakers blared Frank Sinatra singing, "New York" and every barricade came down. Within minutes, everyone was ushered off of Broadway and the street cleaners appeared out of nowhere. But on the side streets the partying continued. I don't think we ever had as much fun after dark without a drop of alcohol.

We slowly made our way back uptown and stopped for pizza in a bodega. We were finally eating after about 15 hours, but we were so giddy as we sat in the store window and cheered the revelers that we barely ate. From there it was a very crowded adventure on the subway back to Harlem, and a long, long car ride home. We were still on a high when we arrived home at dawn.

And that, my friends, is why every other New Year celebration will pale in comparison. But, before we turn into those jaded Seniors who only reminisce about the 'good old days' we will try to celebrate this New Year's Eve, and every one to come, in a special way.

Wishing everyone the same thing those Seniors know are the ONLY things that matters for the new year: Peace, Good Health, and Love.