sorrow and sno-cones

Compared to some reporters, I am usually pretty comfortable dealing with bereaved people. If individuals find satisfaction in having a chance to express their loss, I am glad to be there.
The moments can be illuminating and inspiring.
I personally find it a learning experience to observe how different personalities try to find peace and acceptance.
And then there is "this story".
The follow-ups to the shocking car crash that killed 8 people in Westchester.
Some families are public in their mourning, so far the Long Islanders who lost their loved ones are not.
So we reporters do our best to be respectful, while trying to "move the story forward."
It is a delicate dance, and sometimes not a pretty one.
As I stood at a police barricade watching people headed to pay their respects, I really wondered was I helping or hurting?
However, I was transported by one sight, three young girls selling sno-cones to raise money for the family of their dead playmates.
Ironically most of their customers were sweltering reporters.
I think most of us were never so happy to buy a snocone, to somehow in some tiny way be helpful.
While I always fear compounding somebody's grief, the site of those three little girls holding up signs and yelling "sno-cones" gave me hope in a situation that for so many is hopeless.

The fabulous 4th

I have always loved Independence Day. Over the years I've been lucky enough to enjoy some memorable celebrations. I remember how pretty my mother looked in red,white, and blue and how much fun it was to sit on the front lawn of the U.S Capitol and watch the symphony and the fireworks over the Washington Monument.
In Bangor, Maine I served the M.C. for the big parade.
My favorite moment came when the W.W. II veterans would came by, some with special canes, others waving from a school bus.
In Wisconsin there was a fish boil on Washington island.
My most memorable 4th was probably the boat parade on Big Pine Lake in Finalyson, MN.
Everybody would gussy up their watercraft and parade around the lake. I "costumed" my "vintage" pontoon as the Boston Tea Party, with stenciled tea crates and such, I was deluded my clever historical reference would guarantee victory.
Not so much. We lost to a boat with an Uncle Sam dummy.
I think I love the Holiday because it is truly communal. Thanksgiving is about family, New Year's Eve is about friends, but the 4th is about celebrating the remarkable story of America's beginnings. It's true heart lies in events that bring people together for some old fashioned fun.
I loved this story in this morning's New York Times (page A 18) about Dorothy Davis' neighborhood cookout in Harlem. I can't think of a better example of what makes the day special.