The day after ...

Some might become depressed that the excitement and craze, the waiting and the planning has finally come to an end.

That is, unless you are among those who wait for the best shopping day of the year … December 26th !

There I was early this morning, trekking out to Walmart in South Florida, since I no longer go to Macy's on 34th Street or the Hallmark in the Paramus Mall, calculating how many boxes of this or rolls of that I would need next year.

Shameless hussy that I am, I also went to the on-line site for Current, the best decorating and wrapping place on the planet to order my food boxes and candy bags for next year.

Hey, don't laugh. Fifty-percent is fifty-percent.

It has been an interesting time, these days of nostalgia and remembrances of the ghosts of Christmas past.

Unofficially, Christmas came to an end this morning.

Officially, it comes to an end on January 6th or what I know as "Little Christmas."

What awaits me on that day is the long process of undecorating and after adding the new finds from today, re-storing, closing up boxes and stashing said boxes in said closets.

Having only a virtual "closet" for cyber space decorations and being a compulsively obsessed over-organizer, I have created a Word document with all but two of the Christmas blogs from this year.

No, you can't see them again. You don't expect poor Ralphie to run back and forth through the snow all year, do you?

I hope all those who visited enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed creating it.

To my family, friends and whoever falls between the two, thanks for joining me during this month. For anyone who hasn't been following me, you missed out on a lot of fun.

I took out all but two days of this month which included December 19th ... so I must mention again ... Happy 40th Birthday Michael Paul Cronin ... you old curmudgeon you.

All good things
come to those who,
fOIS

Stay tuned. We now begin the countdown to the New Year!

It's here at last ...

Today I am remembering Babes in Toyland and my sister-in-law, Teresa Edwards in Staten Island. It was her Christmas tradition to watch this movie each year. Sorry Teresa, I can't remember which one you watched.

My favorite was the one with Laurel and Hardy, but I am certain her favorite was the one with Tommy Sands and Annette Funicello. Somewhere, out there in TV-land they show one or both every Christmas day. Go find it and have fun. It is one of the classic, camp must-sees.

I wish to all
A Merry, Merry Christmas
fOIS

One more day ...

The Night Before Christmas
By Clement Clarke Moore

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;

And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,

Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,

Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow

Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

Now, Dasher! now, Dancer!

Now, Prancer and Vixen!On, Comet!

On Cupid! On, Donner and Blitzen!

To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!

Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,

So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,

With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling,

I heard on the roof

The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,

Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;

A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes -- how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,

And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;

He had a broad face and a little round belly,

That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,

"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"

Slowly the days close
On another time
Of good cheer,
fOIS

Nostalgia ...

Two things come to mind when I listen to The Four Lads, singing Standing on the Corner, my brother and his friends in the front parlor during the fifties and the boys under the streetlight doing their do-op routines later in the same decade. The names of groups change, the decade changes, still the basics remain.



This more recent "tune" brings only one person and event to mind. Jennifer next to me traveling down A1A to Key West.

From the forties and fifties big bands, early rock 'n roll, do-op and acapella on the street corner, to X-er's looking like the modern rendition of the Temptations or the Four Tops.

Music brings me the people I love, takes me to those times in my past, the places and events that are the signposts of my life, the fond or sad memories, all so good to hear.

Capture the muse,
Hold it for a moment.
Send it out to someone
You love,
fOIS

Saying goodbye ...

Running in circles today, not being able to get to my work. Need to finish the last three chapters of something, editing a draft of something else. Got those low down, drive me into the dirt blues. It helps to work through those blue funks in the day, chase them at night.

The second day of Christmas didn't even help!

Like the banner, many of the selections I post here are from a collection of stories of Sunset Park. Naturally, I have loved finding the various Brooklyn Blogs, and there are many, and the hand full of them dedicated to our old neighborhood.

Today was the sign-off for a good Brooklyn Blog, The Best View in Brooklyn. These small pictures cannot do justice to the breathtaking views of the sunset, the panorama of the bay as it winds around the borough, blending with the Hudson River going north, emptying into the ocean going due west. As the boy said … "Straight out 'til morning."

A much needed voice for this all but forgotten piece of our history, I say goodbye to The Best View Blog. May all your endeavors be done with the same dedication.

Missing it today,
And wonder

Where are we now?
I am,
fOIS

From Sunset Park ...

The bike path along Shore Parkway ...

School was dismissed and the kids scattered. Some of them walked up the long hills and were never heard from again, many married young, birthing and raising a new generation.

It was a fresh start as the kids and their parents threw off the remnants of the yesterdays that defined them and embraced a vision of tomorrow they waited to realize.

For the kids who grew up in the areas surrounding Bay Ridge, the incredible vistas from a seven and a half mile bike path along Shore Parkway, adjacent to the Brooklyn Narrows, spanned these changing times.

It was in the ebb and flow of the waters, in the endless stream of people and traffic, the change began to define itself.

Dancing to a another beat, both parents and children had yet to learn, eventually everything old is new again.

The first day ...

She stood for hours lost in the steel gray colors of the bay smashing against the rocks until she could no longer feel her toes and at last gave in and went around the corner to the house and to her bed. Once again, sleep eluded her and at first light, she turned and looked at the clock on her night table.

She stood in her dressing room, half-awake and struggled into tight flannel long johns and then into jeans. All the layers and heavy socks in place she walked to the far side of her living room, opened the window and looked out at the Brooklyn Narrows. It was five in the morning. The lights on the bridge and the lights of the traffic shown against the dawn sky, guiding each traveler to their destination.

Standing near
The water wake
Holding a bit

Of heaven,
I am
fOIS