Last month I kind of took New Yorkers to task for their cavalier attitude towards the rest of the country, but on July Fourth, they were once again the beautiful people only they can be.

I have the questionable fortune to live in an apartment- with a large terrace- facing the East River. What makes it questionable is its proximity to a heliport and noise aside, the helicopters who land there have had a rather poor track record over the past few weeks. Still, when I describe its location, there are stirrings of envy vis-à-vis the view. The lights, the river, the boats, and even Long Island City can be quite moving at certain times of the day and evening, and as for the annual event, known as the Macy’s July Fourth fireworks display, picture yourself at a football game, seated between the goal lines, watching your favorite team.

In the early evening, as if from some place beyond the horizon, three barges appear – mundane in appearance and perhaps bearing a banner with the name of some corporate giant, who has purchased this medium to advertise. From these unremarkable barges , later in the evening will come some of the most incredible pyrotechnic displays ever seen by anyone, anywhere. People use the expression about how something defies description. In this case it’s true. Think of the sky being ablaze in an orderly and yet unrestrained manner, as though explosives were being used to create patterns across the heavens, and experience the blasts of noise which tear through your body, and if it’s a hot and hazy night, feel yourself enveloped in a slightly choking smoke.

Down below, at the water line, a reviewing stand has been erected. Having never been a guest of the city, I have no idea whose bottoms fill the seats and how they become entitled to that exalted place. You see, for the past 11 years I have my own ringside - 18 floors above - and am usually joined by friends, neighbors and family. We don’t get the full impact of the entertainment being offered at water side unless we turn on our TV set to help us with the countdown to the first fire cracker as it bursts into the air.

What is most amazing to me is that regardless of weather – searing heat, almost never more than a drizzling rain, a bit of dampness in the air – people line up, sometimes 6 hours before the event, waiting to be admitted to the FDR Drive which becomes the reviewing stand for we, the people. Everyone is orderly – sometimes there’s singing and on occasion a group dressed in matching tee shirts will break into a team chant. There’s a paved area on the opposite side of the Drive and people who show up before the barriers are set up, come in with blankets and chairs and it’s not unusual to see card games. This year, during a round of catch, someone dropped a ball into the river, which was then retrieved and returned by the Coast Guard. They also serve.

We have our refreshments on the terrace, grownups more restrained than the kids who keep asking, “when, when, when?” When the folks on the ground are admitted onto the drive, there’s a loud roar of excitement as they push ahead, and that same roar is repeated when the display begins. We all love one another on this night, and like the lion king we sing of how we feel the love and we really do. We come together at a time of catastrophe and we come together to share our joy and that is why I needed to write this column – my ode to New York.