AMEŌN

Christmas in New York in the 1970s felt like stepping into a world of electric energy. The city blazed with bright lights and towering department store windows. Families bundled in heavy wool coats moved quickly along Fifth Avenue. The air was sharp and biting and the smell of hot pretzels mixed with the exhaust from yellow taxicabs. A long Lincoln Continental would cruise by now and then its chrome bumper catching the glow of a thousand bulbs. It always felt like New York was putting on a show for the season.
In a spacious apartment near Central Park a family prepared for the day. The mother pulled on her thick winter coat while the father wrapped a plaid scarf around his neck. Their small dog barked eagerly for his morning walk. Outside the streets were bustling and alive. They walked past the grand stores where enormous red bows hung above every entrance. The dog weaved between legs as if he knew he was part of the city’s rhythm.
After the walk they stopped for coffee at a diner with a view of the skating rink at Rockefeller Center. The enormous Christmas tree stood proud against the gray winter sky and strings of colored lights wound around its branches like jewels.
The family crowded into a booth enjoying strong black coffee and steaming mugs of cocoa topped with marshmallows. People rushed by clutching shopping bags bursting with wrapped boxes. It felt like everyone was racing against time but somehow still caught up in the wonder around them.
Later they visited the department stores to buy presents. Cashmere sweaters leather wallets fancy candies and colognes that smelled like pine and spice. The stores were packed and the salespeople spoke quickly with tired smiles that seemed to say they’d seen it all. Every moment felt loud but thrilling. Even the sound of the revolving doors spinning felt urgent.

Ameōn. Inspiration. Energy.