New Year's Eve Memories

This was taken from my diary of last year. The photograph to the right is of one of Pottsville's wagering parlors.








I left the parking lot at the Pottsville Hospital at about 1:45 A.M. (still enough time to get one last Yuengling lager down at Sarge’s New Year’s Eve party).
It was a busy evening for me, first dinner and drinking at Sarge's New Year's Eve bash, then a dash over to Pottsville Hospital Parking lot after the stroke of midnight. Umbrella in hand, I waited for the announcement of the 2007 new year baby. I had placed my traditional $100 wager on the birth being out of wedlock the day before at one of Pottsville's betting parlors. I stood there in the parking lot, with my ticket clenched firmly in my fist, waiting for the news. I was not alone, there were hundreds of others with me, along with the WNEP news truck and various newspaper cub reporters.

I continued to look up at the rooftop of the hospital to see if I saw any smoke. Tradition has it the when the new year baby has been delivered, the announcement to the world is made by burning old Pottsville Republican newspapers in a special oven. The oven is actually the oven from Charlie's Pizzeria on loan to the hospital for that one special night. The smoke from those papers escapes through a small chimney visible from the parking lot. Usually one can spot the fumata nera or black smoke, which signifies that an out-of-wedlock baby was born – a bastardo. If I see black smoke, then that means pay-off time for me!



Will it be bianca or nera?????

This night I was not so lucky, I dropped my ticket in disappointment as fumata bianca rose up from the chimney. Fumata bianca....the dreaded white smoke. Yes, white smoke came up the chimney, the first time in at least one decade. The new year baby was born to a married couple! Not only were the parents married, they were married to one another! The couple consisted of a male and a female. One of each! Both adults and not related to one another!



Traditionally, a hospital dignitary will then step onto the platform erected in front of the hospital, holding the newborn up in the air, proclaim the name of the infant (after getting HPPA releases signed of course). The crowds in town go wild, throwing hats up, hugging and kissing as if World War II was just ending while the proud father does a victory lap around the lot.

The baby's name is generally something difficult to pronounce or spell. I was hoping the name would be Flava Flave. Not very original; it is the name of my favorite MTV personality. No, this year, the child would have the name Michael, the name of my favorite Archangel, my favorite basketball player, and my favorite Corleone family member. A lot of wagering goes into name selection as well and the pay-off can be astonomical. This year I was going home empty-handed. No Kahrystall, no Jewlle, no Ayden, Kayden, Jayden or Mayden. No Chrystee, no Thembessa, no Nyklas, no Braden, Zayden, Graden or Rayden. Just plain ol' Michael.





I quickly made my way back down to Sarge’s for that one last call for alcohol, listening to the bells ring from the Mister Softee truck now racing down Centre Street proclaiming the good news that the County's New Year Baby has arrived.
Everyone can sleep good tonight.

photo of bib is one of the numerous gifts bestowed up the winning baby every New Year Day.