And let there be light, part 2

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I always love lights in trees and wish it was possible year around.

A friend of mine said that he thought I should spend some time in Manhattan so I joined him (and several hundred others) for the 65th annual Park Avenue Christmas tree lighting and carol sign in front of Brick Presbyterian Chruch, on the Upper East Side.

I later learned that these trees were first lit in 1945, not as a New York City Christmas tradition, but in remembrance of soldiers killed in World War II. The trees in the Park Avenue median, now stretch over 50 blocks north from the Met Life Building up to 96th street. “To see Park Avenue filled with people singing makes this big city feel like a small town,” said music director Keith Toth in a write up in Time Out New York.

While we waited for the lighting, the Brick Church pipe organ played, carols were sung by the children's choir and many of us, periodically checking our song sheets for some forgotten verses. Park Avenue residents peered out from street facing windows and little kids were perched on parents' shoulders and some in the branches of trees, waiting. And we all looked south.

While I still wish trees could be lit year round, expectation and anticipation are part of what makes something special. "It is the time you've wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important," writes Antoine de Saint Exupery, in "The Little Prince". Anything worth having typically comes with some delay.

We waited in the dark evening, shivering a bit, when finally, a solo bugler played taps. For the sixty fifth time, with the exception of 2001 when the Mayor Giuliani uttered the words, also honoring those lost in the World Trade Center on September 11th, the pastor of the Brick Church said "And let there be light". And suddenly the golden trees lit up the avenue and night sky, and helped usher in a new season.