An empty fry carton in winter
For the first time since 1998, I'm not spending winter in New York City, so I had to watch the blizzard coverage from the sidelines today—nonstop cable news coverage of SNOW SNOW SNOW up and down the East Coast, and be careful out there, kids, it's really really dangerous—beautiful, yes, OK, we admit it, but dangerous, that's the main thing—and definitely don't drive, and oh my god, Poppy, can you believe people are actually still OUTSIDE in these conditions?!
I took a few pictures of CNN's marathon coverage, my socked feet safe and sound indoors beneath that huge hysterical rectangle glowing in the living room, and I was going to post one here, not because it was particularly interesting, but more so to remember, a year or two from now, what I was doing during Winter Storm Jonas (or whatever His name is), because although I'm sure I was in NYC for all the major snowstorms of the last decade and a half, I hardly remember what I actually DID during any of them. My brother, Phillip, and I tried to go to a Syracuse basketball game at Madison Square Garden during one—2006?—but I don't think we were able to get across the Williamsburg Bridge, so we ended up watching it at a local bar instead.
Anyway, when I went outside to move Jolene this afternoon, so that my dad could get his car out of the driveway and go retrieve my mom from the library, I noticed a sad—no, brave!—little McDonald's fry box flattened on the icy street outside the house. How poignant, I thought, how beautiful, but above all, how dangerous. No, that's not right, we are untouched by the storm here in Rochester—but are we really SAFE? In America, that's the most important thing. This beautiful little fry box is like a metaphor for something, but I can't figure out exactly what. I check my Facebook feed, reflexively, like that will somehow help me think, and see that in China today its Food and Drug Administration reported that 35 restaurants across the mainland were found to be lacing their food with opium powder.