Sugar lollipops, hot chocolate and cold fingers

At times, Christmas feels like a mirage this holiday season. Since yesterday, I've dodged several unsettling moments. Yesterday morning, an introductory meeting suddenly became aggressive, and slightly hostile. Afterwards, as I bought a hot chocolate at La Colombe d'Or, 319 Church at Lispenard street in Tribeca, an irritable woman, wearing strikingly beautiful rings, glowered at me. As I fumbled for my change, I apologized to the counterman for my cold fingers. The glowering woman loudly stated, "it's not cold out," and I smiled at her. As I walked home from my office tonight, for a brief heart-stopping minute, a young man refused to let me walk by him. In a playful, yet menacing manner, he said "I'm just playing wid you." In each case, I opted for grace, and continued on unscathed. We find the Christmas spirit in the most unlikely places. Last evening, Big Daughter and I visited St. Vincent Hospital's emergency room. She had complained of excruciating pain for a day and a half,  and I insisted it get checked out. We arrived at 5 p.m., and she was discharged at midnight, diagnosed with a kidney infection.  Our time in the E.R. was not bruising nor frightening. It served instead, as an affirmation of human kindness. When Big Daughter was finally admitted to the E.R., it was so crowded, her bed was the third, in a lane that staff would normally walk. As she cried from the pain, I cradled her. Waiting for the doctor, we gazed at the sea of hospital beds surrounding us, each with its unique story. The E.R. staff were efficient, yet overwhelmingly kind and gentle. Despite the pervasive aura of pain and discomfort, there was a sense of community. Everyone was unfailingly polite and considerate. To our right, was a long row of several men of varying ages. One of them was sporting a large black eye. I heard him say ruefully on his cellphone, "I started the fight." The doctor finished her initial exam of Big Daughter, and went off to order tests. Mr. Black Eye called out to me, "Excuse me, do you work in fashion?" Big Daughter momentarily forgot her pain, and said "she looks like Nina Garcia, right? That's what people always say." A few minutes later, the man to his left - who looked like a old revolutionary - said "this reminds me of communist Russia." He caught my eye, and we began laughing together. Later a young resident walking by smiled, and said, "it looks like you all are having a party back there." We were talking to our newest neighbors, a screenwriter and his sweet, loving wife, who had just flown in from L.A. He was unable to eat without pain, and due to travel to Aruba this morning. In that moment, our stories were all the same - we were seeking comfort for those we loved. Young Sir C., Big Daughter's boyfriend, arrived around 8:30 p.m. When they whisked her off for a CAT scan, we joked at our sudden sense of dislocation, and awaited her return. The angry, psychotic man behind us began mumbling "white trash," and the nurse told him to hush. She and I looked at each other and smiled, as we shook our heads. Young Sir C went out to buy snacks. He returned with baby bell cheese, mozzarella sticks and oranges, and a Pepsi. We ended up eating dinner at Veselka's, Second Avenue and 9th street in the East Village, at 1 a.m.. They ordered pierogis, and I had a glass each of seltzer, and homemade apple cider. I ordered Kutya, a Ukranian dish with wheat berries, raisins, honey and poppy seed. It was not too sweet, but very rich in flavor. I couldn't finish it. Next week, our family will eat together, for the first time since our break-up. In the spirit of harmony and friendship, we will join Young Sir C, Carl, and our dear friends, Lady S, and Sir H, and their twins, at Sal Anthony's Lanzas, First Avenue and 10th street in the East Village. Our annual Christmas Eve dinner.  It has been fun to buy the presents that are handed out at dinner. On a recent Monday, little one's school celebrated a religious holiday. We used the opportunity to visit Kiosk, a whimsical store in Soho, 95 Spring Street, between Broadway and Mercer. It's been on my radar screen for awhile. The wind was unstintingly fierce on Lafayette Street, and I suggested we get Chai at Hampton Chutney, on Prince and Lafayette. Little one rebuffed me, and requested a visit to Think Coffee, 248 Mercer street, on the campus of New York University. She likes their Chai Latte, because the barista piles it high with whipped cream, especially for her. For that reason, little one told me, "I love him." She also ordered a surprisingly tasty sandwich of green apple slices and brie, on a baguette. We were adrift in an ocean of college students. I thought of Big Daughter at class at New School. Astoundingly, little one finished the entire sandwich. I complimented her on her good choice. At Kiosk, we were delighted to find balsa gliders, popsicle stick building kits, old-fashioned sugar lollipops and brightly-colored plastic birds from Mexico which tweet, when filled with water. She spied a vintage copy of Twas the Night Before Christmas, and sang the verses, as I paid for the gifts. When we got home, as instructed, little one placed the lollipops in the fridge until Christmas Eve, so they would not melt beforehand.