Let Kevin have his Moment. Pt II - NYC

Published on 10 December 2024 at 18:15

Every one of us has an inner child that still has a desire. How you were raised evades this topic, as this cradles a different desire. As a child, you tend to pick up on the most innocent of objects to marvel at. Mine was the Christmas tree. Like Kevin, I found myself drawn to them at an early age. The symmetry, glowing lights, and the joy that it brought to the masses that stood below observing the silent beauty.  

As a child I was starstruck at any Christmas tree, or anything that had lights on it during the holiday season. In the 1980s lights were typically of the C9/6 nature and were basic in colors (blue, red, green, orange, and white). The earliest tree that I remember was a Balsam Fir that stood in the corner and filled the room with a strong pine smell. The tree was massive and I remember my father lugging it inside. The next part was my favorite, hanging the lights. I doubt this was my father's favorite, but he didn't let on, he smiled and pulled the cardboard box from the closet. The cords for the lights were large and there was no Martha Stewart type of finesse to get the perfect illumination and appearance. 

 

My fascination with Christmas trees continued as an adolescent, to the point that I annoyed family members to start putting up Christmas lights early every year. I remember one year when I asked my grandmother if I could string the lights on the front porch early. She agreed, but I still think to this day that she allowed this because we lived in the country, with no neighbors in sight. I got the lights out of the barn one October day and started to hang the lights. I finished twisting and hanging the lights all around the banister and post of the front porch. Once I had finished, I called out to my grandparents to come see my masterpiece. As my grandmother came through the front door, I could hear an auditable gasp. I then heard my grandfather laughing hysterically. My grandmother said in a stern voice, “Why did you use duct tape?” I turned with a smile and just stood there. Neither of them would scold me for the effort, and to this day it is still a story told during the holidays. 

 

As an adult, the love for Christmas trees turned into an obsession. Every year, I took my child to the tree farm and cut one down, or stood and watched as the farm help did. Every year, I would twist and pull the cords to make sure every spot was perfectly illuminated. My love of Christmas trees had grown into a passion. I learned how Martha strings lights on a tree. For the better part of my twenties and thirties, I spent October hanging lights on anyones tree, the perfect look.  

 

I have been in New York City many times over the years, but never during the holidays when the tree was up. I have always wanted to see this tree in person and just stand there in look at it. Well, this year I fulfilled a childhood desire. I had the opportunity to have a short trip to NYC and I made a beeline straight for the tree. It was night and raining, and when I walked up to it, I thought to myself, “There ya go Kevin, something that you have always wanted to see.” I stood there for the better part of an hour, walking around all the angles, making sure I soaked in all of the sounds, laughter, and illumination that Rockefeller Center had to offer. I did at one point mumble to myself, “I thought it would be bigger.” 

 

As for my inner child, I was able to give him something that he always wanted, to marvel at one of the most iconic Christmas trees. Can I say that the inner child was satisfied by this seemingly small and immature gesture? I cannot, what I can say is that my heart was happy for that hour. For that hour, I had no care in the world. I was able to stand patiently and just observe, process, smile, and for the moment, feel the holiday spirit. I have already fulfilled a great deal of dreams.

 

What I can say for certain, is that moments like this are what help bring warmth back to your heart. It brings a desire to see what else one can do for the self.