New Year's Eve

Year to year, New Year's Eve is quite different for us.  Maybe for you as well.  Even though it's frequently called "amateur night", we may go out, grab dinner somewhere.  One recent year we went to a movie (AMERICAN HUSTLE).  Another we went downtown, grabbed a drink at (the now long gone) World of Beer and meandered until the waterfront firework show.  There was also that one when we found ourselves out with a large group, eating huge steaks at Abe & Louie's in Boca Raton well after midnight (not a wise decision, not for the restaurant but the time of consumption).  A few years we fell asleep long before the ball dropped.

In November you had an entry of Thanksgiving recollections so now you have this one.  My childhood NYEs were usually at my grandmother's house.  Lasagne was the dish and it was always fabulous.  Unlike many Italians, my grandparents were not into seafood so pasta ruled the night.  I remember watching Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve several years, with Barry Manilow singing "It's Just Another New Year's Eve."  We had those noisemakers with the handles, around which spun metal rectangles.   Those long blowers, too.  We threw confetti around the living room.  Happy memories.  My parents did not drink.  As you've read, my grandfather did, and was typically out like a light before things lit up in Times Square.

One year (when I was quite young) was spent at a neighbor's annual bash.  She was an affluent, elderly woman who loved to cook and show off her house, which was easily the most beautiful on our block.  I've spoken of her here before.  Her husband, Buddy, had suffered a stroke some time back and was reduced to utterances of "da da da.." over and over.  One of the folks on our street told us that years earlier, Buddy taught his parrot curse words, which the bird directed at the mailman, who was finally so irritated and offended he refused to deliver parcels any longer.

In more recent times, a few Eves stand out, ones during my twenties, the "wild years".  One was spent at the location seen in the above photo.  It is a square at a local shopping center, just down the street from where I am currently living.  One Eve in the early '90s, several of us sat on the benches and shared a bottle of champagne after a dinner at John Bull, at the time housed in the center background of this picture. Great place.  Food, interior, staff - all fine.  We did not intend to spent the entire night by that fountain but it turned out that way, and was a great time of laughs and reflection.  I walk past this area several times a week and always smile at the memory.

During another I joined a dear friend and her fiance to witness their marriage vows. I was the only guest.  Then we, including the officiator, all went to a very nice restaurant (can't remember which).  I had met Bonnie in the church choir a few years before and after I helped her with a move we bonded. Like brother and sister.  Unfortunately, that NYE marriage didn't end well.  Bonnie has since moved around a bit, including a return to her old stomping grounds in New Orleans. I visited her there in 1997.  She remarried about three years ago and is very happy. She's on Florida's west coast now.  We've been planning a double date with them for some time. 

In the late '90s I joined a few co-workers for NYE downtown on Clematis Street, hitting several bars.  I don't think they had fireworks at that time.  But there certainly were ones of a different sort at a nearby Denny's at 3 or 4 AM that New Year's Day.  A fight that began in the restaurant continued in the parking lot.  We did not go out to watch but heard thumps against the window - the guy losing the fight was pushed against it a few times. Happy New Year!   Post clubbing at Denny's was a ritual in those days, and there was usually at least one memorable event each time.  Even if finding 1/4 of the remains of a previous customer's hamburger smeared on the menus was the only highlight.

This year? Not sure.  Maybe we'll go to someone's house again.  Or maybe we'll just conk out.  Maybe Barry was right.