Just a few days ago I was carefully weaving the lights between thick bristly branches, making sure each section of our Christmas tree was completely illuminated. With every ornament came a smile. Simple memories attached to each one, some older than I am. Most were bought in anticipation of new arrivals, and in celebration of many milestones. The Popsicle frames with stickers and my childrens kindergarten faces preserved....the quirky snowflake cut outs they wrestled with in their classrooms during holiday craft time....the yearly ornament we buy to add onto our ornamental family history. Our living family tree, full of bling, glitz and lights which is more enticing than the regular family tree full of nuts, quacks and a few hot messes.....ok, so it's the same tree....only with a little more pizzaz.....but no tinsel.....because the dog (and finally after lots of therapy it is just the dog now) eats the tinsel and then it hangs from a whole new area.....enough said....
On Saturday we took the kids to go see the tree of all trees....The super steroid version of trees.....The Rockerfeller Christmas Tree. We drove in from Long Island. The kids were so excited about the city and the tree and the skyline. I was so excited because I was going back home.
When anyone asks me where I'm from, Brooklyn or Queens....I answer I'm a borough girl. I'm Brooklyn born, Queens raised, Manhattan educated and I worked in the Bronx. Ok, the only thing that tied me to Staten Island was a guy I dated while in college, so again, enough said.
New York is more than a state of mind for me, it's a state of being. As a child, when we would go into the city it was a complete sensory experience. From the aroma of the hot salty pretzels to the long thin hotdogs with the relish and onions and sauerkwart lingering, the roasted chestnuts and honey glazed peanuts, to the perfume that would seep from the stores as the doors open and close. That's what I would imagine wealthy homes must smell like. That essence of exotic flowers, delicate, lacy and soft. I would walk down the crowded streets with my mother and brother and it would feel like everyone moved as a unit and I almost had to jog to keep up. The lights, the beautiful buildings, the carefully crafted decorations. I would walk down the stairs in to the underground world of trains in Queens, and I would emerse into the spectacle that is the city. Alice in Wonderland......Mari in NYC......
By the time I was taking the F train in to go to NYU, NYC stopped being such a fairy land for me. It started with the large homeless population that would seek some shelter in the trains, and then I would again encounter laying on the streets, covered by cardboard. Volunteering in a soup kitchen my 4 years there I saw the homeless populations shift from people with obvious mental and addiction issues to the elderly who had gotten evicted from their rent controlled apartments, families who had lost thier jobs and homes. While it was difficult for me to know that there was suffering, those years in the city also opened up a whole new world for me I had no idea existed. The night life, alternative lifestyles, perspectives from all walks of life. NYC is a performance art piece that unfolds in the moment. The stage might be an island, but the audience is the world.
And now, before the tree, I couldn't help but think that perhaps this tradition, this grand gesture of hope and holiday spirit, dances like lights on every branch of this magestic tree. This, our city's history, a family tree, holding everyone's memories...one attached to the other.....glistening.....colorful.....vibrant.......bright.........
Silver bells, Silver bells it's Christmas time in the city...................
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