Last New Year’s Eve, a crowd of millions flooded Midtown Manhattan, kissing and cheering in the warm glow of the 2020 promise. On this New Year’s Eve, only a few hundred will gather in Times Square – dozens of frontline workers among them – and only then by special invitation.
With temperatures checked and masks protected, they will represent a nation holding a mirror to their lips in 2020 to confirm that there is no haze, that the year has mercifully ceased to be.
But here’s an existential question to reflect on your favorite appetizers and Trader Joe’s drink: If a ball falls at midnight in Times Square and hardly anyone is there to see it, has a new year really begun?
We were conditioned to believe that, with the clock ticking at a certain midnight, a bent old man gives the time baton to a cheerful cherub in a top hat. All the suffering of 12 months ends and life begins again.
If only.
“I’m more anxious to bury 2020 than I am for 2021,” said Stephen Hughes, assistant chief of the New York Police Department who is helping to oversee the night. “I can’t wait to see no more 2020.”
Juanita Erb, a clinical research nurse invited to attend this year’s celebration in Times Square, agreed. But, she added: “Changing the clock to 2021 is not going to make everything disappear.”
But it is the pandemic that defined the year, with more than 340,000 coronavirus-related deaths in the country – an average of 930 a day, 39 an hour. And while the year also included the rapid development of vaccines, most Americans will not be inoculated until well into 2021, which means that deadly infections will continue.
At the Times Square meeting, the touch of grace at night is inviting a few dozen frontline workers and their families. Among them will be Ms. Erb, 44, a clinical research nurse who, in recent months, has helped oversee Pfizer vaccine testing at the NYU Langone Vaccine Center.
Another guest is Danny Haro, 22, a community college student from Montclair, NJ, who delivers food to an Italian restaurant and provides security for a clothing store. He is among strangers whose work allows others to experience a vague normality in a pandemic.
As the coronavirus crisis worsened in early spring, Villa Victoria Pizzeria in Montclair began donating pasta and salads to employees at neighboring Mountainside Hospital, with Haro often delivering food on his 2009 Ford Escape.
In early April, he tested positive for the virus. Fevers came, chest pains, loss of smell – long nights in fear of not being able to breathe.
Haro is feeling much better now and says he expects 2021 to look a lot like 2020, at least at the beginning. He wishes, then, for one thing.
“Strength,” said Haro. “Just force it, honestly.”