Taking you for granted

I wish I'd taken pictures tonight. I was on a roof, looking at the skyline - the Empire State lit redwhiteandblue, bridges strung with lights, the water. Behind the jagged outline of buildings a string of matching fireworks, 6 I think, were exploding into colors.

There were smiley-face fireworks (dorky), planet fireworks (Saturn, with a ring), big puffball fireworks that looked for all the world like dandelions gone to seed (or sea urchins). There were jellyfish fireworks and fizzy-pop red ones, and ones that looked like Christmas tree lights which didn't so much explode as hang there for a few moments and then slide down like leaves off a tree.

It would have made a great photograph, even if the camera couldn't (as I'd convinced myself when I decided against bringing it) capture them very well.

By anybody's standards it was a remarkable sight - the skyline added so much - and it struck me as crazy that it took so little doing to get there. It was a short ride to a friend's house, up a flight of stairs or two, and voila - big famous spectacle.

That's the thing about living here - you get so saturated with the difficulties of it, and the drudgeries, that you hardly notice where you are. It's more like the city becomes a part of you - it's seeped into your pores, and like most things that live in your pores, it's pretty unpleasant much of the time.

You ignore it, or you deal with it as best you can, and if once in a while you look over at the Statue of Liberty while you're crossing the bridge, well, that's pretty, you think. And it still doesn't make an impact. Because it's part of your life.

People fly thousands of miles to see that - they drink it in like some fabulous rare cocktail, and for you, because it's running out of the tap, it's just There. Familiar landscape. Hey, Liberty, Babe. What's shakin'? How you doin'? Nice dress.