The following occurred this past Thanksgiving Eve and in early December. I wrote the Thanksgiving Eve pieces below in my head pretty much on the subway coming and going that evening.

New-York Historical Society   We've always belonged to historical societies and museums, in New York (such as the Merchant's House Museum), Tampa, and nationally. This summer I finally got an invitation to join the New-York Historical Society. It's celebrating its bicentennial this year, 1804-2004, and I joined. The Society insists on keeping that outdated hyphen in its name, even in the acronym: N-YHS. Go figure.

Bev and I went just once about 12-15 years ago to its building on Central Park West at 77th Street, just next to the American Museum of Natural History. When we went, we enjoyed paintings by the Hudson River School, but the most memorable thing they had was a special exhibition on Tiffany glass, both lamps and vases. It was the most complete we'd ever seen, and they had enough pieces to be able to show in detail each period in the development of the favrile glass and the lamps. We've also been to the Morse Museum in Winter Park, Florida a couple of times, and their Tiffany collection is excellent, but the special exhibit at the N-YHS at that time was the best.

They were having a special reception for members (fruit salad, pastries, hot cider, hot chocolate), and I toured the building again. Their Tiffany collection, or part of it, without the special exhibit, was confined to a small room.

But there was a special reason they had the reception specifically on Thanksgiving Eve. It's also the reason why I saw Ronald MacDonald lying flat on his face in the street.

It was drizzling that evening, and I went with an umbrella (very New York) to the subway. So many lines converge downtown that I have a choice of two different stations on Rector Street alone. I got on on the closest, the Rector Street station of the # 1 line, and went up to the 79th Street station. As I zigzagged down 77th Street over to Central Park West, there were plenty of cops and barricades around, and plenty of floodlights. Then, right in the middle of the street, there was Ronald MacDonald on his face. They had just finished inflating him.

The N-YHS had decided to have the reception that particular day so that you could also see the inflation of the balloons in their staging area from 77 to 81 Street, getting ready for the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade the following day. Part of it was right outside the side door of the N-YHS on 77th Street. Now I admit I'm cartoon-character challanged. Of all the ones on 77th Street, I only recognized Ronald. I did see a medium-sized pumpkin just being started to be inflated next to its already inflated twin. But afterwards, I swung around the Natural History Museum up to 81st Street, and there was Snoopy, Garfield, Mr Monopoly, and others. I saw SpongeBob SquarePants (at least I recognize that newer one), and I understand that was one of the most challenging balloons ever made because of all the internal cables necessary to maintain its rectangular shape.

You'd sort of think they just inflate at will, but it was interesting to see that next to each balloon was a carefully constructed wooden sign, which indicated that they use them again and again, painted white with careful black writing, with 12-15 instructions each, such as: 1) Inflate Garfield's left ear 2) Inflate Garfield's right ear 3) Inflate Garfield's nose. Apparently there are separate air chambers, and the sequence is important.

They've been doing the parade since 1926. I read in the Times that for a five-year period in the 1930's they'd actually release all the balloons at the end of the parade and offer a prize to whoever located them to be returned. As you can imagine, they became a hazard to aviation (and to everything else!), and that was stopped.

Subway Life   We always rode the subway, everywhere, even when Bev needed some assistance walking. Then when she was in the wheelchair, we stopped, and I drove and parked everywhere. It was a change to get back into gear again. As I watched people on the two subway rides that day, it occurred to me that not everyone is aware of Subway Life as I see it. Even some New Yorkers who never thought about it before will recognize themselves here. By the way, this year is the centennial of the New York subway (1904-2004), so it's half the age of the N-YHS.

Subway Fold Some of the terms below I've made up (which is my thing), but this term has really become standard.

Reading a tabloid newspaper on the subway is easy to manoeuver. But a full-size broadsheet paper (the Times is the only one left in NY) poses a problem. You can't open it far enough. The standard solution is the Subway Fold, which works well in crowded quarters either sitting or standing.

You open the paper fully, but then fold it vertically, so it's nice and narrow. You read the left side of page 1, then turn it for the right side. Then you flip the page to read the left of page 2. After that, you have a choice. You can either hold the paper open to read 2-right and 3-left at the same time, or you can fold the whole thing back on itself to just read 2-right. Easy? Piece o’ cake.

Subway Stare Don't misunderstand this. It doesn't mean staring at people. It means staring into middle space, into nothingness. It signifies "leave me alone". This is, of course, nothing new. Everyone who's ever gotten onto an elevator has done the similar Elevator Stare, where, to remain uninvolved, you suddenly take an inordinate interest at that scratch on the door or the back of someone's head, or otherwise suddenly decide how fascinating it is to watch the floor numbers change.

The Subway Stare cannot be mastered by everyone. I remember once when Bev and I and her mother, who had an injured arm at the time, got on a train for just 2-3 stops. By the time we got off, she knew everything about the lady sitting next to her, including the fact that she had once also injured her arm (I don't think she managed to get the woman's mother's maiden name, though). When we got off, Bev and I teased her Mom, who didn't let it faze her at all.

Subway Lean This also has an elevator parallel. Everyone's had the experience of a few people waiting for an elevator in front of a lighted button, and someone new coming--and pressing the button again anyway. Why? What good does it do? Now you'll understand the similar philosophy (?) behind the Subway Lean.

Arrive on the platform. No train. Walk to the edge of the platform, lean out a bit, and turn your head in the direction the train's due to come in. It is, of couse, a Well-Known Fact that a pair of eyeballs staring into a subway tunnel has a mysterious magnetic affect in dragging a train around the bend. And a half-dozen people leaning at the same time is certain to have a cumulative effect.

Subway Spread Finally comes my favorite. If you have to stand, it's easy (too easy) to grab the bar up above or the vertical pole. But why not try it without holding on? That's accomplished by employing the Subway Spread.

You stand with your feet somewhat apart, and splayed at an angle. If you face the side of the car, you balance on toe and heel to compensate for sideway rocking, and lean into starts and stops via the spread. If you face the front or back of the car, it's reversed. Standing at an angle to the car is also possible, but requires more concentration (that's the Black Belt Subway Spread).

Nonchalance is the key. Hands in pockets is good, or arms folded, or hands together behind you. And the Subway Spread is perfect to employ the Subway Fold with your newspaper.

Maybe you're getting the feeling that the Subway Spread is a guy thing, and maybe you're right. I remember the very first time years ago that Bev, clinging to a pole, looked at me and said: "HOW CAN YOU DO THAT???!!!"

But in fairness, she learned to do it, and as I recall, she could even do it in heels, but it was never her thing. And it does have a certain unladylike quality. But is it ever COO--OOL.

Digression: That point about heels reminds me of the famous line about Ginger Rogers, which is also appropriate here: she could do everything that Fred Astaire could, but backwards--and in heels.

December Rose   Last year I planned two winter trips in addition to our summer trips, South America last winter and the Caribbean this winter. However, since the trip I wanted for this winter happened to fall in December, it all ended up falling in the calendar year 2004. I had tickets for two ready for the Caribbean, but had to downgrade it to a solo trip. The DR solo trip was a business trip, Minnesota was a family-and-friends trip, but this is the first solo "travel" trip.

I'll be back a week before Christmas, but being away cancels most of what we've always liked to do in New York in the holiday season: the party at the Merchant’s House, the party at South Street Seaport, where Bev always loved to go to the historic ships with the group to carol, the Regatta party in our lobby, the Luciafest at Ulrika's Swedish restaurant with the chorus wearing lighted candles in their hair. But I did get to go to what I call our Corner Party, which I’ve mentioned in previous years.

The Regatta is on the Hudson, facing the Esplanade on its west and south sides, right at South Cove. At the Regatta’s corner of the Esplanade and South End Avenue, the Battery Park City Authority always has a holiday party early in December. There's hot chocolate, hot apple cider, and plenty of cookies. A group called the Broadway Carolers was singing this evening, and Santa arrived in a Parks van and presided over lighting the tree over on the other side of South Cove. The view over to the lights on the Jersey side of the river was spectacular as usual, as was the illuminated Statue of Liberty to the left. In the other directions were the city lights and the Esplanade trees and shrubbery. It was a New York Moment.

In past years we've had falling snow, and one year there was a couple of inches of snow on the ground to push the wheelchair through. Last year I hadn't heard of the date of the gathering, but by chance I came home from an errand and saw that it had just started. I ran upstairs, bundled Bev up like a holiday package, and wheeled her out, for what would be her last Corner Party.

The carolers were good this year as always, and did beautiful four-part harmony. They asked for requests, and I asked for "Lo, How a Rose ere Bloometh", which was a favorite of ours, and which we always taught our German classes at this time of the year as "Es ist ein' Ros' entsprungen". It's not only a beautiful carol, but I thought it was appropriate to request it in order to include as part of this event the image of the December Rose: Memories bring roses into the Decembers of our lives.