Showing posts with label Christmas Eve. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Christmas Eve. Show all posts

24 December 2020

A Ride Through Time Before Christmas Eve

 Yesterday, after finishing everything I needed to--and could--get done before the holidays, I went for a much-needed ride.

Why do I need a ride?  Well, for one thing, I'm a lifelong bike rider.  The only other things besides basic bodily functions that I feel I "need" are reading, writing and occasional travel.

Also, even though I know I've done the things that needed to be done, I felt a tinge of guilt that I probably won't get much, if anything, done betwee now and the fourth day of the new year. (New Year's Day, like Christmas, will fall on a Friday.)  But I reminded myself of Congress*, so I don't feel so slothful.

Anyway, I pedaled down to Rockaway Beach, Riis Park and Coney Island.  I saw the sun preparing for its descent in Rockaway:





and exiting in a blaze of glory at Riis Park:





Just as captivating, to me, as the refulgent spectacle were the shifting cloud formations.  I felt as if time were a scrim drifting across the sky and tracing its face on waves of the sea.





By the time I reached Coney Island, the sky and sea were dark.  I didn't take photos because--silly me--I forgot to charge my phone before I went for a ride and it was all but depleted by the time I got to what might be the world's most famous boardwalk.  More people than I'd anticipated were taking walks and rides, men were fishing off the pier and some Puerto Ricans played some traditional music from the islands on their guitars and drums.

There weren't, however, many people on the Verrazano-Narrows promenade, which passes underneath the bridge.  Most of them were fishing.  I think that most of the fishermen I saw were Latinos and their catch might make up their families' Christmas Eve dinners--which, for Catholics includes fish. 

My family ate whatever fish my uncles caught--or, in later years, what looked good to my mother at the market-- and scungilli: deep-fried rings of squid. That memory, sparked by those fishermen, loped through my mind as I continued through Brooklyn on my way home. 

Those memories, like time, drift through my mind like that scrim of time between the sea and sky.

*--Congress took--how long?--to pass a second coronavirus relief bill.  They didn't accomplish much. The President and his buddies, on the other hand, did a lot--none of it to mitigate the COVID crisis and all of it malignant! (That' not an editorial comment:  It's a fact!)


24 December 2017

What Do We Have In Common?

The virus was kind. Or, at least, it was courteous:  It delayed its gratification.  It could have made me really, really sick more than a week ago.  Instead, it decided to wait until I finished my semester.  Not that I was feeling great as I graded all of those papers and exams:  I was functioning just well enough for that, but not much else.

So now that I'm finished until next month, I still haven't been riding.  It has nothing to do with the weather, which has been cold, but not unseasonably so:  last week's snow is gone.  It also has nothing to do with the shorter hours of daylight:  I have my blinkies and other safety equipment. And I do have one thing in common with Santa's most famous reindeer.



Yes, my nose is red.  But it won't guide any sleighs or bikes or much of anything else besides my sneezes.  

Since I can't ride, or do much else, I will try to find out what, exactly, gave Rudolph his red nose.  Surely it wasn't my virus!