There were carolers and online holiday wishes well into the eve on Christmas Day.
That could of served as a reminder to me on a walk down to Kwik Trip around noon on Dec. 24, as with those many who I saw along the way, I said Merry Christmas, neglecting the HH (and second Jewish HH) phrasing.
Leading those with holiday cheer was a Fed Ex driver — not just one, but two of a team. I was still across and up the street when he expressed wishes to me first — as he went around the back of his delivery truck and his partner the front and center — then repeated them a moment later. Big smiles both times. The partner ran one house ahead to get a package there, using her feet not her wheels. I wished him the same, adding I hoped he had the day off. Yes, he replied, after this last stop and perhaps two or three others.
Then there was the lady with the dog. I elected to walk straight rather than turn, so I could amble toward her as I have an uncanny weakness for canines, and I sensed such for this one in particular. The conversation went this way and that, about the importance of our animals to us almost as if they were surrounding the manger, for longer then usual.
At Kwik Trip, the crew was on in full force, as was the case for the next couple of days, with thankfully breaks in shifts slated so everyone could have their holiday, so at three of the four machines there was a big sign that said — next register over. I told the guy at the end that because of the time of year and all to remember, like last shopping lists items to bring over, that didn’t “register.” He responded: “It’s too early for that.” I didn’t know if he meant time or day, or for the overall holiday.
Cut to the night after Christmas. A cabbie said that the evening before had been pretty big, and that tonight would have been even bigger, but for all the snow coming down, followed by icy rain. As was echoed at Dick’s Bar, college students who are back home and usually are out were not the norm, although virus concerns among that crowd who can feel very invincible were not the factor, according to the cabbie. And Jeff Loven was probably not as long in the tooth, likely having quit playing at 10 or midnight.
Then things for a time got less holiday-ish.
Although Dick’s (another 365 place in town) was busy, the guys, mostly, at the bar the night before were a bit ugly, and not just like in an ugly sweater contest, it was said. Bump into you and be a bit surly, I was told, as these (holi)-days bring out stress … And up the way, a place that typically is among the most hopping, they had to be cutting staff partway. One older guy was taken to task by a woman when he undoffed his mask to quaff a bottled water. A lot of that these days, and not just during air travel. But on this night, the day was saved when a guy I didn’t even know wished me Merry Christmas (chosen words) and hugged my not once not twice but thrice.
And so then better again.
Since it was really pretty I decided to walk home. Oddly, the newly fallen snow had a crisp that gave grip to my shoes. The first thing I was was a worker on the roof of Pier 500, already, blowing off snow and maybe building on the success of their rebuilt roof from the storm of a couple of months ago. Across the street, Lakefront Park was decked out with a wider than usual variety of lights, much more than I had even seen in it, on all of the trees and all, in addition to the band shell.
All around were duos of dipsey doodles as far as swirling tire tracks from at this point as many plows as cars, and one of the former had a big snowblower loaded in its back end to match its blade, and both were put to work before it was last call down the way.
The houses along a road less traveled, as well as the main drag, had many more than usual Christmas Lights Out (and Shining) On Their Front Porches All Night Long. Even from just a few days before. Striking among them was the small porch with many dozens of small and varied do-dads of all shapes to seal the deal.
Just before the village/city bridge — under which the crispness disappeared in the snow to walk on — many dabs of decorative drizzle donned the spruce/balsams along the sidewalk, looking like both the Christmas trees and the ones out in the yard, from my boyhood home.
There also were a couple of small crosses, one understated by the fact it was hung lighted on an older metal door, and one noticed because it was formed into the shifting drifts of an intersection by another one of those plows.
Nearer to home, and I’ll stop waxing poetic at this point, a perfect rectangle was formed by a driveway made gray with sheen from shoveling at just the right time earlier that night, and then I slipped and fell backwards, for the second such time this month. Especially these snow-filled days and nights, watch your step not the slate-gray!