We got up early, grabbed hot drinks, poured them into a thermos, a bag of snacks, piled into the car. Lots of on street parking, because, you know, Christmas suspension of alternate side rules, a brisk walk, because even if it was warm, warm in NY in December will be glove weather, south to Rockefeller Plaza. The Tree, that giant spruce, covered with balls bigger than me, is deserted, the ice rink still closed, the shops silent. It is easy to circumnavigate The Tree, admire the windows at Bergdorf and Bonwit and Tiffany and the origami tree at JAL.
People lounge on the steps of St Patrick's, waiting for 10 o'clock mass, or perhaps they've been here all night, perhaps many nights. The streets start to fill. Southbound cars slow to admire The Tree, the windows.
It is time to move.
We walk back to the car, stopping at an open coffee shop, for tea, scones, a croissant. We drive north, headed to the only museum open on Christmas day, the Jewish Museum. Tonight, we'll go to the movies, eat Chinese food, fine tuning our traditions.
