Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder”

Gazing out at the falling snow I desperately try to recall a similar storm and a different reaction.

God hears me, and I am able to jump back in time.

On another day, and from a decidedly different place, I also watched falling snow.

Yet I viewed it with a far different emotion, anticipation not despair

Snow was seen as a blessing for many of us in those years and in that place.

Primarily because snow rarely lasted long on the heated city streets. When it fell, we rejoiced.

I always savored the brief time the pristine coat of purity lasted and wrapped our city in the soft white embrace of the falling flakes.

One such memorable morning was the winter I was 16 and about to graduate from high school.

Watching from our fifth floor window, I knew my two snow sledding friends, Timmy and Dan would arrive within the hour.

The two tall handsome young veterans would join me walking across Columbus circle to the “Hill” in nearby Central Park. And yes, they always carried my two flexible flyers.

Tim was finishing college in spring and Dan was working with his Dad in the construction industry.

Although it wasn’t called a gap year then, this was a brief moment in time when many young warriors strived to recapture some of their interrupted youth

Once we arrived in the pristine sanctuary of te beloved Park, the three of us rejoiced in the beauty and calm of the winter day. We remained until it became too dark or safe to maneuver the sleds.

Tim, taller of he two, whose curly black hair, reflected his Christian/Jewish heritage, was the more serious of the two.

Dan always evoked the memorable sounds of “Danny Boy”with his flaming hair, and contagious Irish humor.

Little did any of us realize that January day would be recalled as our last adventure together.

It was also the last snow storm NYC had that long ago winter,

Maybe that is why it became such a cherished memory.

The magical moment of time was never forgotten and always mentioned when our paths crossed briefly during the years that followed.

Dan was the first to find marital bliss with Mary and sire five children. His voice is still vibrant when it rings out across the miles on my cell phone.

The following winter Tim married my best friend’s cousin. His bride, Wilma, was a beautiful willowy New York model, and her tall husband sadly seemed to shrink in her presence.

Three years later I renounced the city streets departing with my beloved Prince seeking new adventures.

As the memory slowly ebbs, I gaze out the window again.

Now, however, remembering snow is not a threat, but another gift.