The Real Miracle on 34th Street

In my life, I have seen many movies. For the most part, they have not been what are commonly known as "quality" movies. Many have been rather obscure/poorly-made/flat-out lame. However, of all of these, there have been very few that I have truly disliked. One of those? Miracle on 34th Street.

Now, say what you will, I'm not a bad person in general. I think it's nice that kids can believe in Santa, even though I never really did (one of my earliest memories is of me telling my mother that Santa Claus's handwriting looked remarkably like hers. She spun me some story about Santa not having time to address the gifts himself, and I was just like "Yeah, Mom. I was born four years ago, not yesterday.") And Maureen O'Hara is, in general, fantastic. And most movies set in mid-century New York have thriled me. But this one left me, if you'll pardon the pun, considering it's December in the Mid-Atlantic, cold.

I just didn't care. Whine, whine, whine, Santa Claus must be real. Whine, whine, whine some more. I do believe, I do believe. The USPS believes, so it must be true (because the USPS never gets anything wrong. For example, they have not been delivering my upstairs neighbors' mail to me for the last 5 months or anything. They are infallible!) Whatever, little girl. Whatever, happy holiday spirit. Whatever.

And now I find myself emerging from the subway station on 34th Street outside Macy's every morning. At 8 am, I emerge from the ground into the just-spreading light of another cold, cold day, and I think, "You know what the real Miracle on 34th Street is? The real miracle on 34th Street is that so far (knock on wood) I have managed to make it the 5 blocks from the subway to the office every day without being trampled, pick-pocketed, or reduced to yelling at the tourists to get OUT OF THE WAY!" It's just Macy's for crying out loud. You can see one in your local mall back in Des Moines or Tulsa or whatever fly-over state you came from. Look, it's the Empire State Building. Yes, it's tall. And yes, it's lit up for the holidays. Whoopee! Now get your nose out of your Fodor's Guide to NYC and KEEP MOVING. Or I will not be responsible for what I do.