There's something to the clouds the last two days. On the drive up 83 to Pennsylvania my mom said it's a cold front, all I know is the clouds and the colors up there keep capturing my attention and then next thing I know I'm engulfed, staring out the window or above the trees. The gray and the blue and the white. It's so striking, I forget it's Christmas and just think, Maryland, this is so your sky.
Em and Nicky were home from the farm too and drove down from Connecticut last night. It was raining and balmy on the streets of Baltimore, Em was shaking it at me through the window from out on the street and of course a dance party broke out. Sixty some years ago in a basement on Church Street in Brooklyn Park my grandparents started having Christmas parties for their brothers and sisters and all their friends. My dad and all his brothers and sisters raised us kids on black and white pictures and stories from then, the dusty liquor bottles behind the sheet in the corner, the train that ran the floor on hand connected tracks. Shiny shoes one pair a kid lined in a row. It's a long time away from that little two bedroom house with the 9 people in South Baltimore, my brother and I still do what we can. Our parties have people dancing on the bar and dancing outside, smoking in the streets. According to the aunts and uncles, Grammy's and Pop's had them dancing in the basement under the stairs and sometimes, on the roof. Singing at the stars...
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