On a December eve, very recently, I stood outside in the cold darkness dressed in my pajamas — and not for the first time, for I frequently go out in my PJs, much to the consternation of neighbors, shopkeepers and, not least of all, the police. Anyway, there I waited, amid a gathering crowd on a train platform, when I heard a conductor cry out, “All aboard!” I ran up to him. “Well,” he said, “are you coming?” “Where?” I asked. “Why, to the North Pole, of course,” was his answer. “This is the Polar Express.” And so it was. I was among countless excited ticket holders, young and old, who boarded…