If your name is Virginia, you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about when I say it’s about to start again. As for the rest of you, if you don’t know the story of Virginia O’Hanlon and the letter she wrote to the New York Sun, back in 1897, asking if there was such a thing as Santa Claus, and the answer she received back, you are blessed…….. and most likely not named Virginia.
Yes, fellow Virginias, since 1897 we have been subjected to some wise guy, apropos of nothing, assuring us that “Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Clause.” And it’s about to spread like the flu. Look what I found in the New York Times last week.
As if Yes Virginia, there is a Santa Claus hasn’t plagued three generations, now they’ve gone and written a book and a DVD so it will spread the curse to yet another generation, all the young and upcoming Virginias.
And it gets worse, there I was watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade when this loomed on the screen
That “Virginia” now has her own balloon.
Yes, dear tender little V’s you might as well learn young. It doesn’t have to be Christmas, it can be the Fourth of July, Thanksgiving, Flag day; it can even be November 2 – the point is you’re never safe. There’s always some jokester who, upon learning your name is Virginia, will smirk and say —well, you know what he’ll say. ( and yes, this does seem to be a male thing)
Maybe we should all move to Virginia. Then when we’re accosted by one of those a $$#@%es, all we’ll have to do is point to our license plates.
My goal for the moment is to live in the moment. As I’ve mentioned previously, I’ve set myself the task of taming my monkey, and appreciating what’s in front of me now. Sunday turned out to be a lesson. You see I’d planned to visit the Westchester Cat Show on Sunday with a friend. But she called me Saturday to tell me she was ill. I was disappointed, but decided to put the now-empty Sunday to good use. I’d continue in my quest to rid the House of Mars of the carpet of leaves surrounding it.
Well, the House of Mars still wears its collar of leaves. I awoke on Sunday deciding it could wait. I’d planned on a day for myself and that was what I’d have. A meditation group I sometimes attend was meeting in the afternoon. It centers around the lectures of Eckhart Tolle, one of the biggest proponents of living mindfully. His book, The Power of Now says it all.
I looked at the clock on the night table. It was 9 AM. The group started at 1:15 – in Manhattan. I could make it. So after showering, a cup of coffee, feeding all three Mars, feline and canine, and walking the canine, I managed to arrive at the Peekskill train station in time to catch the 11:21 train. I even had time to just stand on the platform and appreciate the sunlight sparkling on the Hudson River. How’s that for a now moment?
After listening to the talk and engaging in the meditation, I was ready to put one of Tolle’s points into action:
We spend a lot of precious energy waiting for, worrying about, and over-planning for the next moment. But by the time the next moment reaches us, it’s the now; and more often than not, whatever we were worrying about, or planning for never materializes. But no matter, now we’re busy fussing over what we think we see down the pike.
And here I was in the middle of a prime example. I wasn’t at The Cat Show, was I? With that in mind, I decided to take advantage of the mild November and meander along The West Side rather than taking the subway back to Grand Central Station. I would just walk with no particular route in mind and appreciate whatever unfolded. (And if it so happened I passed one of Manhattan’s ubiquitous vegetable stores, I’d stop for the parsley I needed for the casserole I planned to make when I got home.)
But enough of my narrative, I share my hour’s walk with you.
Ah, Christmas preparations, I love the hustle and bustle of Christmas, but this calm before storm is nice too.
Along Broadway in the West 60’s
Oh my, look where I am – Columbus Circle and 59th Street; and I just wrote about my first summer job at Woolworth’s in the last blog. Let’s see what’s in its place.
Just what NY needs – yet another Duane Reade drug store.
I’ll avoid Central Park South. I hate seeing those poor carriage horses. I always feel so sorry for them. I’ll head east on 58th Street instead. Ah, look, an alternative to animal abuse.
- One of the pedicabs gaining popularity among tourists
And another, and one built for two.
Too bad they’re all idle.
I’ll bet those %^&!! Horse carriage drivers aren’t.
Oh, look more Christmas preparations.
Along East 58th Street
And look, how quiet – wait until next week.
The famed FAO Schwartz toy store
Well, I’ve walked thirty blocks south and seven block south and not one vegetable store. But not to worry, I’ll get it here in Grand Central Station
On the Main Concourse
Is this parsley?
No, here it is.
PS. See, I did use the parsley.
Chicken and Noodle Casserole with sour cream, onions, & parsley