My Honey knows me well enough, I'd say
To rub my feet at night, and See's the day.
This week we have been blessed to return to the city that never sleeps, New York. It's been ten long years since I was last here. Ten years and seven grand-babies ago. We have enjoyed reuniting with friends from Dave's years at Yale, and celebrated the wedding of one of those friends. It was an absolutely fabulous series of events culminating an amazing dinner/dancing celebration at the famed Union Club in Manhattan. We spent the morning in the Mormon temple, the evening in the Jewish temple. And lunch in between at the Yale Club. We've seen fabulous shows on Broadway, eaten delectable meals in a variety of styles. We climbed the steps of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, inhaled masterpieces and new found treasures, including a new Matisse exhibit and a collection of rare Italian stringed instruments. We dined on crab cakes and lobster salad while overlooking Central Park, then strolled through the park on the way back to our hotel. Saturday morning we woke early enough to visit Hell's Kitchen and other flea markets in search of antique treasures. We spent every last dollar we had in cash, minus $10 for the cab fare home, on a wonderful old Santos of St. Joseph. My feet are blistered and happy. My cheeks are chapped and happy, from the 40 mph winds and the relative single digit temperatures. It's almost pitiful to speak of it in so few sentences, to neglect the vividly colorful details; like the stunning sculptures adorning the apartment of Peter's mother, chiseled with her own hands (now 84 years old); or the opulent mosaics in the massive synagogue where Peter and Laurie were married,,,the sound of the breaking glass under his foot...the echoing of Mazel Tov rising from the circle of friends gathered around the couple and the Rabbi. The scent of fantastically fragrant wedding flowers one moment, followed by the aroma of chicken and pretzels, some of them burnt, swirling around the corner where the street vendors park for the evening...the sound of steel on steel in the subway station...the warmth of air wafting up from the grates in the sidewalk above the trains...the checkerboard image rising into the air outside our hotel room window, most of the squares lit all through the night in the New York Times building kitty corner from our hotel...the rhythmic clicking of tap shoes over an ensemble orchestra in a wonderful old Broadway Theatre. Taxi cab yellows and Times Square lights and incessant horn honking and a cacophony of languages on every street corner.
It's been a stimulating, tiring, wonderful 5 days.
Our first morning here, Valentines Day, Dave set these chocolates on the bed. He had been sweet enough to secretly pack them, hand selected, in our suitcase so he could surprise me on Valentines morning and not break the age old tradition in our family. Mmmm, lucky me. Rum nougat for breakfast!
Our daughter Sarah wrote this on her Facebook page that day. She posted it with this picture of baby Joe, holding a box of chocolates from his daddy, Dave Petersen:
"I felt like a princess each Valentines Day when my dad would surprise me with a heart shaped box of Sees chocolates. Thank you for starting that sweet tradition, Dad! Thank you for loving Mom with such selflessness and adoration. I love you both!"
I am blessed. I try not to feel guilty about being so blessed. I try to reserve guilt for sin. Instead I try to feel what is most appropriate: incredibly; humbly; lovingly grateful.
(Some days are easier than others to seize. See's always helps!)