New Year’s Eve of ’01-02 was the first spent with the woman who is now my wife. We went to Federal Hill to watch the fireworks.
It was bitter cold. We huddled together for warmth. A bottle of champagne was tucked inside my jacket.
We kissed at midnight. The fireworks, as usual, were spectacular.
A lone voice is heard over the oohs and ahhs. A man standing by himself near the northeast corner of Federal Hill speaks to nobody in particular.
“Happy New Year woo! Happy New Year woo!” the man said. “Went a whole year without getting locked up.” He paused for a thought. “Mom would be so proud.”