Grandma and Rockefeller Center

It was 1986. Three months before my grandmother died (she must've known, I realize now, that she was quite ill), she asked me to take her to see the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center. I was at that time the only one in my family nervy enough to drive in the city. She could no longer walk well, so mass transit wasn't an option. She loved the tree, which is why, I'm sure I am still enthralled with it each year. Her request was to go over the GW Bridge first and drive south from there. She said she remembered when it was built and that my grandfather made parts for it.

We got on the Henry Hudson Parkway and she talked to me about how much she liked the river and also reminisced about when she bought the bungalow in Pt. Pleasant and surprised my Grandfather. She wanted him to have his favorite place to go --the Jersey shore--as a place to relax in his retirement. She likely told me other stories I'd heard before as well, and that was OK with me.

We were "lucky" enough to be stopped in traffic nearly right next to the tree. I remember Grandma watched the Rockefeller Center tree from the car with childlike wonder in her eyes, saying nothing and then with a far-away look in her eye, saying, "Ok, we can go now."

Sometimes we're lucky to give or receive just what is needed when it's needed.