On a New York Blizzard, the Olympics, and Humanity

Posted 3 years 20 weeks ago

And then there was snow. By Sunday, New York City was blanketed in it, and I eventually set out from my city apartment with no plan or purpose.


East 73rd Street.

A pleasant calm, a magical serenity, and yet the air abuzz with an almost electric positive energy. Smiling faces, a child's shriek and a burst of his father's laughter from afar.


2nd Avenue bus lines still running.

Warm bundles of people, a dazzling array of colors and clothing. Dapper doormen scraping concrete with their shovels as they work to be the first to clear the front of their building.


Gotta love these coats. You wouldn't find 'em in Seattle.


Fame, the one eyed-doorman on my corner.


Gotta get to work.

An elderly couple precariously perched at a corner, cautiously choosing the first of two paths off the curb. He takes the plunge, still holding her hand, splashing as he hits a small puddle, while she fusses and stays put. "This way is easier", I say, as I opt for the second path myself. "I told her, but she wouldn't listen!", he moans in desperation. I look back to see them happily crossing the street.

Traffic at a lull, no honking, folks crossing the street no matter red or green.


Second avenue facing north.


Park avenue, facing south.

I head towards Central Park, playground for millions.

I'll let these images speak of its magnificence:


Fifth avenue, Central Park, looking northwest.


Fifth avenue, Central Park, looking southwest.


Fun in the park is good news.


The snow presents all sorts of new transportation options.


Surrounded by people with professional cameras.


They're watching their friends and kids slide down the other side.


The lake at 72nd St., frozen over.


Tunnels like these are one of my favorite things in the park.


Winter wonderland.


Seat yourself, please.


Another tunnel.


Nice view, guy snaps photo.

As I wandered about, I heard a cheering crowd and headed that direction. The snow had hardened on these steps and, once a mound for tricks had been formed at the center, it made for some great fun.


Fun.

I stayed here for awhile, laughing along with other smiling strangers as some flew into the air, others lost their tube and tumbled down, the fat kid couldn't make it over the mound, and an innocent spectator was swept up when a sled took its own course.


This guy got stuck on the mound.

Before my camera's battery died (I'd love a professional camera), I managed to capture some short video clips of the above action. I'm figuring out the best way to post them, so you'll just have to come back here when I update this. :)

Updated. Here are some videos of the action:


http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-2447135026837059876


http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-7730832807985300343


http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-2327055033285861790


Gorgeous.

On days like this, one can't help but be in awe at the magnificence of society, and of life. We all have different paths and pursuits, challenges and triumphs, and yet we're all subject to much of the same.

As a thick blanket of white powder blanketed New York City and beyond, the nearly 2 million inhabitants of the 33 square miles of Manhattan were amongst those reminded that we're all in this together.

I watched the Winter Olympics opening ceremonies in Torin, Italy on Saturday night. Delegations from so many nations competing in various winter sports events, all to push the limits of the human body and to champion spirit in a healthy, peaceful way.

I was fascinated as the many performers moved their bodies together to depict a moving skier, then a pulsating heart. The Olympics are a wonderful celebration of humanity -- in their own words, it's a message of sharing, respect, and resolve.


Google Earth has made available high resolution imagery of the Torino area.

Be it winter fun in Central Park or the Winter Games in Torin, Italy -- amidst all the disconnect in modern human life, there are those times when we realize that at the heart of it all, it's about togetherness.

As I walked home, I heard a young girl ask her father, "Where does all the snow come from?".

Updated. Added videos.