Rainbow in the Puddles...I am sure you are asking yourselves, “What in the love of rainbows does this title mean?”
I have always been obsessed with rainy days. The sky turned gray; the drops would slowly trickle down and find their way to my windowsill. Slowly at first - as if it was calling out to the city, "time to go home." These soft drops would morph - and grow into a larger and louder rain - perhaps even a total downpour that fell to a rhythm that soothed me in a way like no other. I wanted to feel the rain, dance in the rain. Drink up the raindrops. Did I tell you how much I adore the rain?!
Eventually, I would trek outside sans galoshes (I mean, seriously, those things weigh a heck load) and sans umbrella. Nothing - and I mean nothing - would stand in the way of me and those drops creating huge puddles on the sidewalks and streets.
It’s no surprise then that my dream job in fact, was to be a weatherman (now appropriately known as a meteorologist). However, I needed practice and I discovered that my pale green shower curtain would serve as the “blue screen” for the large map of the United States.
With my Mom's wooden spatula in hand I would position myself in front of a shower curtain, getting ready for my camera close-up. This was my “que."
“Over to you Sal,” said the voice over.
(At this point I would reach over and turn the shower on cold as to create just the right backdrop for my broadcast.)
With me straining to speak above the pouring rain, I began my report:
“Good morning Anthony, This is Sal starting off with a live look at Brooklyn, New York on this cloudy Sunday morning. 80% chance of showers up until two o’clock pm, clouds will break a bit letting in some sunshine over here.”
(In front of the mirror I saw myself making circular motions and indications with my spatula towards the edge of the curtain to show the TV audience the direction of the rain.)
“… and theTri-State area looking sunny the rest of the week, we will be sure to keep you updated. Back to you”
These skits would continue until someone would kick me out so they could “actually use the bathroom, for the ACTUAL purpose it was there.”
Sheesh, I'm leaving.
So just because some people dislike the rain, and associate it with mostly negative impressions, people called me the Gloomster. However, I deemed them the Gloomsters (we all know that no one should be called a Gloomster in any scenario but that’s neither here nor there) because they were so busy looking at the gray and the dark and the humidity which will make their hair disastrously frizzy.
They were afraid of the rain.
So as my story goes, everyone was so busy avoiding puddles of rain that they forgot to stop and have a good long and deep look at them. If only they had, they would have seen magic. The magic I see in the Puddles. I see the joy and glory of the rain in endless colors in those puddles. The colors – a kaleidoscope of the rainbow- appearing from nowhere.
After the rain, my sidewalk awash with color and hues that I was convinced splashed from thunder and lightning. Those puddles transported me to the 60’s where the bellbottomed wearing, peace loving generation would have reveled in those groovy rainbow puddles. I know for certain they would have splashed in them with me.
Inspired from what seems like gloom, we bring you groove!