On a recent evening our two best pals, grandsons Robbie, now 11 and Phil, all of 7, were seated at grandma's large kitchen table in grandma's kitchen. After the prayers were said, we began digging into grandma's delicious pot roast, gravy and noodles.

Robbie let one and all know that his grandma was the best cook in the Napa Valley, and Phil and I agreed.

Then suddenly, and with a smile, Robbie announced that on this coming New Year's Eve he and his brother were finally going to be permitted to see the old year fade away and a new year come in -- that is, if they could fight off the sleep that often catches up to active young boys and girls.

Phil asked grandma and grandpa if we were going to stay up late on New Year's Eve too?

I told the boys that that we are going to try to welcome the new year in. In fact, for the last 10 years we've stayed up for two New Year's Eve celebrations each and every year, the first in New York City and the second nearer home in San Francisco.

Phil gave out with a "How could you do that grandpa -- New York is so far away?" But big brother Robbie explained to little brother with a "Grandma and grandpa watch the celebrations on television."

Robbie, by the way, loves geography and digs into my monthly National Geographic magazine. Between that and my New York stories he knows quite a bit of weather conditions and what goes on in the Big Apple. Because he knows, he updated his brother on how cold it is on New Year's Eve in old New York.

Then big brother said, "Grandpa, would you tell Phil the story you once told me about being a policeman on the street on a New Year's Eve night in Manhattan when you almost froze like a popsicle?"

I smiled a "Sure," and gave my grandsons the quick version of why when Gilbert and Sullivan were right when they wrote, "A policeman's lot is not a happy lot." I quickly ran over my survival gear on a bitter cold tour of duty, and that consisted of longjohns, two pair of gloves, gray over white, two pairs of woolen socks (black,) a heavy sweater under my NYPD-issue winter overcoat, with the Pershing collar rubbing my neck raw.

Oh, and no earmuffs; you want to hear whatever is coming your way.

Later that night, when the boys went home, I sat in my easy chair in our warm parlor (called family room out here) and thoughts returned of a New Year's Eve when a rookie cop was assigned to a 7 p.m. to 3 a.m. at Times Square, Broadway and 42nd Street in Manhattan.

I was to learn that Times Square was merely the staging area where assignments were made. More than 1,000 cops would be involved in crowd control, a job the NYPD does well in a city of more than 8 million people plus thousands of transients ready for some heavy drinking and lots of fun.

Well, in short order "bosses" -- uniformed sergeants -- approached our ranks. A sergeant carrying a roll call in his gloved hand counted off 20 cops in the group I was in and off we went, west on 42nd street to seedy Eighth Avenue.

That night would be spent at a fixed post, and we would be safeguarding the old red fire alarm boxes that dotted Eighth and Ninth avenues from 42nd Avenue to Columbus Circle at 59th Street.

All thoughts of enjoying the tour among people in Times Square were dashed as we rookies realized we'd been assigned to "fixers" in a frozen Hell.

When the sergeant posted me at a fixer on Eighth Avenue and 49th Street, across the street from the Old Madison Square Garden, he pointed to a red fire alarm box and said, "Kid, this is your post. Any drunk or screwball who tries to pull the lever on that box will be arrested forthwith.

Then he dropped the "copspeak" and talked to me like a father or older brother. He said, "Kid, there's a coffee shop on your post which I'm sure you've noticed. The good news is that you're free to grab some coffee, use the bathroom, or just thaw out. But the bad news is that as you can see the coffee shops windows are so steamy from heat meeting cold that once inside you won't be able to see outside. Oh and one more thing. That box has a silent alarm so if fire apparatus pulls up to your corner you better collar someone -- anyone -- or you're going to have some trouble downtown in the trial room."

That conversation and the sergeant's wise words caused me to work an almost straight eight-hour tour staring at that alarm box and praying that someone would be dumb or drunk enough to try me. I dreamed of a collar and a seat in the warm Manhattan arraignment court, waiting my turn to tell the story of the arrest to a judge who was in no hurry.

Meanwhile a digital thermometer on a building directly across the street read 15 degrees when the tour began. When it finally ended the reading was down to 7 degrees, and worse yet a cutting west wind slammed in across the Hudson River.

When midnight arrived the noise of merrymakers down at Times Square bounced through those concrete canyons, but all that crossed my mind was if I could hang on for another three hours.

I've never forgotten that experience.

So tonight, as New York welcomes in the New Year of 2008, I'll be rooting for those boys and girls in blue who, although those fire alarm boxes are long gone, are holding down other fixers on another cold New Year's Eve.

Lest I forget, Happy New Year to all my readers and a "Stay safe and thank you" to all our guys and gals in blue and in khaki who patrol our streets and highways tonight and respond to calls for help. You are the people who makes this county the Shangri-La it is.

Ev Parker can be reached at evjenpar@mailbug.com or 224-9956.