The March was Bittersweet

Once again I was indecisive about marching in this year's St. Patrick's Day parade. After holding our school banner in last year's parade, I felt marching again might seem a bit anticlimactic for me. After all I had reached the pinnacle, and really, where can you go from there? But as the day got closer all the ducks lined up in a row and too many variables started to fall into place. There was absolutely no reason not to go and I began to see my journey down to New York City as inevitable. I may sound a bit dramatic, but it seemed to be in the cards - my destiny. I ordered my Amtrak ticket on line and given my age (I was just recently dubbed Ms. Medicare 2010 by a fellow classmate), I was able to make the round trip from Albany for a mere $62 dollars. Since I had a very kind invitation to visit with a dear friend who lives in Manhattan, I went downstate on the 16th. The train was right on schedule, the day was picture perfect, and the scenery was like something out of The Sound of Music - mountains, river, cloudless blue sky. I walked from Penn Station to my friend's place in Peter Cooper Village - thank God for suitcases on wheels - and we spent a lovely afternoon and evening together browsing the thrift shops and having dinner at one of her favorite Italian restaurants.
The next morning I decided to save my energy for the parade so I hopped on the uptown bus and got a transfer crosstown at 42nd Street. I purposely tried to arrive later than the stated meeting time of 12:10 pm at the designated gathering spot on 45th Street between Madison and 5th. My past experience taught me that the time spent waiting to march can be excruciatingly long especially for someone who didn't sit still even in utero. But when I jumped off the bus at
42nd Street and Madison Ave, it was already 12:30 pm and I was beginning to get a little nervous. As I passed 43rd and 44th Streets, I noticed with increasing anxiety that both these side streets had already been cleared of marchers. I started to envision myself running up 5th Avenue in an attempt to catch the Alumnae of St. Vincent's Hospital School of Nursing but as I reached the corner of Madison and 45th and slipped through the blockade, I saw the beautiful sight of those distinctive three pointed white caps. Glory be to St. Patrick, I wasn't too late. I walked into the center of these wonderful women and and was greeted by a fellow classmate, Maureen McLoughlin Early, and I immediately felt at home. Good thing I felt right at home because I was going to be there for quite awhile. - to be continued