Silent Night

I was thinking on the bus this morning, as I rode back from New Jersey, about the bizarre tradition of Christmas caroling.

Doesn't it seem kind of strange that people once gathered in groups and walked around their neighborhoods singing Christmas songs on one another's front lawns? It's sweet and unbelievable, like Laura Ingalls being happy with a penny in her Christmas stocking, or someone baking a welcoming pie for a new next-door neighbor.

I guess it used to happen somewhere, and thus passed into popular folklore. But I don't think I ever caroled when I was a kid, except at church. I don't remember walking around my own neighborhood and singing. I dread to think how it would have been received -- I suspect some neighbors would have shot at me.

Does caroling still happen anywhere? Are any of my blog readers on the receiving or giving end of neighborhood door-to-door Christmas carols?

My guess is, the predominance of caroling has been grossly exaggerated. It probably was never very popular in most cities and towns, except tiny burgs where everyone knew each other. Otherwise, how would carolers know which houses to skip -- the Jews, the Muslims, the Jehovah's Witnesses and any others who didn't celebrate Christmas? (Or would they have simply sung there anyway, in an admirably secular good-will-towards-man spirit -- in which case one would hope the receiving family didn't mind?)

I read an article a few months ago about the world population, written by a woman in her 70s (as I recall). I've been unable to remember where I read it or who wrote it, but I remember her saying that the world, with all its teeming people, feels different today than it did even when she was a girl. She believes herself lucky to have felt a sense of spaciousness that came with a less-populated planet.

Door-to-door caroling, when it occurred at all, must have taken place in that more spacious time, among small groups of very settled people who lived around each other for years and years. Are there any neighborhoods like that left now?

And if not, do we mind that caroling has waned? (At the risk of sounding Scroogey, I'm not too concerned.)

(Photo: Homeless man with Gusto graffiti, East Village.)

First Snow

We did indeed get a slushy first snow yesterday afternoon. Fortunately I had nowhere to go so I could watch it from the safety and security of the warm apartment. Poor Dave spent the afternoon in a football stadium, at the last of his marching band performances -- not a good day to be sitting on cold aluminum bleachers! He was miserable by the time he got home.

We had a friend over last night and ordered some Chinese, which was a nice conclusion to my day of reading, the gym and some errands.

I'm still waiting for the details of my severance package to be worked out at the office. I really want to break away from there completely, but I can't yet because my boss and I have to hammer this out with the corporate lawyers. (They made an initial offer, but it all needs to be negotiated.) Thus, I'm in a weird limbo period, which is weighing on my mind a bit. I plan to be back in the office tomorrow. Ugh.

(Photo: First snow in the field behind Dave's apartment. Click the photo to see the "action.")

Coins

In case you were wondering, yesterday’s entry was the result of learning how to use Dave’s scanner. It won’t become standard fare for my blog! I clipped the cartoon a few weeks ago because I loved its absurdity and it’s been hanging on Dave’s fridge ever since.

I’m staying in East Brunswick this weekend, being super domestic. I got out yesterday while Dave was at school and shot some interesting graffiti, but for the most part I’m hanging around the house -- walking with the dogs, cleaning, watching TV, reading. I guess this will be my life for the next few months at least. I’m a little worried about how well I’ll adapt to having all this down time, but I think I’m pretty good at entertaining myself and coming up with projects.

(Yesterday, for example, I went to the bank and got coin rollers, and rolled Dave’s bowl of spare change. I really am insane!)

I am going to develop some writing projects to help pass the time and keep my skills honed. I’m not sure yet what form they’ll take, but I may even try my hand at some fiction, which I haven’t written since college.

On the slate this weekend is buying a Christmas tree, although we’re supposed to get a wet and slushy load of snow this afternoon -- the first of the season.

(Photo: Hot dog truck, Old Bridge, N.J.)

Humorous Interlude

Click to enlarge. (Courtesy The New Yorker)

Thanks, Phyllis!

I've been gradually adapting to the idea of being jobless. My initial panic has subsided and I'm now in a "this might not be so bad after all" mode. As I've said before, I have enough cushion to live for a while -- so why not take a bit of a break?

My coworkers have responded in a variety of ways. The best response so far came from a woman named Phyllis who works on our floor. I've known her the whole time I've worked here and she knows my boss even better, but I wouldn't say she's a close friend -- more of a colleague. So it surprised me when she asked to take us to lunch on Tuesday, and proceeded to treat us to a truly memorable meal!

We went to Marseille, a French place on Ninth Avenue. Phyllis suggested cocktails right away, and we all got martinis. Then she generously suggested everything from appetizers to desserts, as well as a second round of drinks. We finished lunch THREE HOURS later!

To make the day even more memorable, Glenn Close was sitting across the restaurant from us. We didn't speak to her, of course, but celebrity sightings always liven things up. (Wonder if the restaurant serves rabbit?)

I am so impressed with Phyllis' generosity and kindness. When I first started work in New York about ten years ago, we had luxurious meals with our senior editors every once in a while. But as the company began trimming expenses, those little luxuries vanished. It was great to revisit the old days -- too bad it wasn't once again at company expense!

(Photo: Gramercy Park at night, looking toward Irving Place and the Con-Edison building.)

Viewless

For a couple of months I've heard all sorts of banging and grinding coming from East 30th Street, the next block up from my apartment. From my window I could see that two buildings were being renovated, and a big scaffold was erected in front of a third building in preparation for some kind of project.

I didn't think much of it. Renovation in New York City is pretty much a constant process, after all.

But last night I learned that the latter building is actually being demolished entirely -- and a new, 11-story structure will take its place. (With 11 apartments -- must be nice to have a whole floor to yourself!)

Unfortunately, this new structure will rise directly in front of my celebrated view of the Empire State Building (which I've depicted here, here and here). Sometime early next year, my view will be no more. Well, I'll still have my courtyard and my horse chestnut tree -- at least for now -- but the view that actually prompted me to buy my apartment in the first place will be gone.

I'm sorry to see it go, but there's nothing I can do about it. That's just the way things go in the city. Besides, I've been lucky enough to enjoy that view for more than seven years, so I can't really complain.

My friends see this as yet another sign that it may be time for me to leave New York behind. I don't disagree. I swear, between my cat, my job and this, I've never received such loud and clear signals from the Universe before!

(Photo: This is not the view from my apartment -- just another random shot of the Empire State Building. I didn't have another photo taken from my window. But you can see the ESB from that angle by clicking the links above.)

Bloke

I found this during my recent romp through the swamps of Secaucus. The street artist Bloke often depicts paper airplanes, and this is a particularly colorful example. Too bad it's on the underside of a railway trestle where none of the passengers can see it! (Observant motorists can see it from the New Jersey Turnpike, though.)