the magic of macy's

The Macy's on 34th Street in Manhattan is a magical place at Christmastime. The grand main entrance is decked out in vibrant poinsettias and big red bows, and from the ceiling dangle enormous ball-shaped ornaments. And today, the day Macy's declared as "National Believe Day," employees dressed as turn-of-the-century newsies hawked circulars designed as vintage New York Sun newspapers reprinted with Virginia's famous letter to the editor. Sure, it's crowded in the extreme, and stressed-out holiday shoppers and disoriented tourists are not the most pleasant people to cross paths with, but none of that seems to matter once you've walked inside, closing the chilly December air behind you.

This morning, bundled up against the bitter temperatures, the boys and I, along with our friends, Emily and Elizabeth, worked our way underground uptown to Macy's where we intended to pay a little pre-Christmas visit to Santa Claus. Everyone, from the shivering newsies just outside, to the elevator attendants, and all the way up to the elves working the crowds of children lined up on the 8th floor, where Santa is stationed, were not only nice (which is a rare treat indeed in this city), but they seemed genuinely happy to be at work.

We stood in the line (or on the line, which is how they say it in New York), which wasn't nearly as bad as it easily could have been, as it meandered through Santaland -- a magical place filled with decorated Christmas trees, oversized toys, and elves ready to bend over backwards to make sure you had a pleasant experience. Garrett was in a personal heaven.

Well, he was, that is, until we reached Santa. I'd been doing my best to prep him for the moment when he'd get to sit on Santa's lap, and Garrett had seemed excited to do so. But the apple apparently doesn't fall far from the tree, and he panicked when it was his turn. The only way he'd even get near jolly old St. Nick was if I was right there holding onto him, and even that was asking a bit much. Caleb, on the other hand, did great.


Garrett's extreme disinterest in Santa notwithstanding, we survived. No, we had an excellent time. The boys were incredibly well-behaved, and I didn't collapse in exhaustion as soon as we got back home. In fact, I'm thinking we could brave the hoards of holiday shoppers and tourists again next year for another visit to Santa.

And that, my friends, is the magic of Macy's.