Sweet Nostalgia

by Karen Richman

I wanted to be a big girl...... I yearned to be a big girl.

I knew I could do it like a big girl, but every year my parents wouldn't let me.

All I wanted to do was stay up until midnight on New Year's Eve like the big kids and grownups did. I longed to see that beautiful, bejeweled ball slide slowly down into Times Square announcing the New Year, watching the throngs hug and kiss and blow horns while a veritable mountain of confetti rained down upon them. That's really all I wanted, but my parents thought they knew better. Still, I knew I could prove them wrong. I knew I could do it. "Just give me a chance," I wailed each year, "and I'll stay up! I can do it. I can make it till Midnight."

So somewhere around my 11th or 12th birthday I finally won the annual argument, or they let me win it. This would be the year. My year. I could stay up, eat some hors d'oeuvres, prepare a ginger ale in a champagne glass with a maraschino cherry on top, toast with my mother and father, and listen to the music of Guy Lombardo and his Royal Canadians. Billed as "the sweetest music this side of heaven," Lombardo first played the Hotel Roosevelt Grill on New Year's Eve beginning in 1929 on the CBS Radio network and later moved to the NBC Radio Network. Then just about the time I joined the party, Lombardo moved to the fabulous Waldorf Astoria, which I thought was very grand. Beautifully gowned ladies with mink stoles and men in tuxedos seemed to float across the floor each time the TV cameras cut away from the crowds in Times Square. I knew I wanted one day to be one of those grand ladies securely in the arms of a handsome man twirling about as Guy and his band played. But for now, I was content to watch and wait for the big hour when the Royal Canadians would play their signature, "Auld Lang Syne" that officially ushered in the new year. I had no idea what "Auld Lang Syne" meant, but I knew it meant the start of a new year and grownups who were awake and still celebrating well after midnight, and that's what I was going to do.

During the day that lead up to the big night, my mother suggested I take a nap. It would be "insurance," she said. But I assured her I needed no insurance. I was much too excited. Besides, naps were for little kids, and tonight I was an adult. I was going to do this! We had a light, early dinner around 5 PM because Mom knew there would be plenty of snacks throughout the evening. I could hardly eat, that's how excited I was. A few days prior we had gone shopping, and along with the requisite Wise Potato Chips and Lipton Onion Dip, Cheez Whiz, and Ore Ida Frozen French Fries (the popular snacks of the '50s), I convinced my mother that we had to have paper hats, noisemakers, and balloons. She drew the line at confetti because as she said, "I wouldn't have to vacuum the Waldorf, but I do here." I was going to point out that our house was clearly not The Waldorf, but decided against it. I didn't need a spanking, or worse yet, have her punish me with a New Year's Eve cancellation, so I just kept quiet and looked ahead with wild childish anticipation to what lay ahead.

Somewhere around 7PM, my Dad blew up the balloons. "Aren't five enough?" he asked half-heartedly? "No!"I wailed, "We need a lot of them like at The Waldorf!" He countered, "This is not The Waldorf." Ooh, again I was tempted but kept my mouth firmly shut. I had already asked a week or so ago if we could make a replica of the ball that would slowly descend into the bowels of Times Square, but that got a quick, loud, and double veto, so I had decided to be content with the battle won and not worry about minor skirmishes.

8 PM. The chips and dips are out, and I wasted no time getting into them. Potato chips were my favorites then and my #1 food group now.

9 PM. The French Fries emerge hot and salty, and I am beside myself with excitement. My Dad is thoroughly engaged watching TV, so I join him, snuggling up on the couch.

9:45 PM. I put an afghan around me and snuggle even more into those soft, welcoming cushions.

10:15 PM. I start yawning. My parents give each other a knowing look, and I straighten right up defiantly.

Somewhere between 10:30 and 11 PM. Gone!

11:55 PM. My mother gently wakes me and tells me it's almost midnight. I open my eyes halfway.

Midnight. I awake fully as I hear the noisemakers, see my parents kiss, and hear Guy Lombardo playing that old sweet song. I made it, I guess. Well, sort of.

12:05 AM. I shove the last of the chips in my mouth and pad down the hall to my bedroom. "There's always next year," I reason. "And I guess I did make it...with a little help." *****

To all our readers: May 2022 be the start of a more prosperous time with less stress and uncertainty and increased good health and good times. From all of us here at 518 Profiles, the very happiest and healthiest of New Years... and make sure you stay up till Midnight, but if you don't, I'll probably be snoring right along with you, a half-eaten bowl of chips by my side, ...Karen