My First New York

For the past two Christmases, my mom has gifted me with a subscription to "New York" magazine. Not "The New Yorker"--but the magazine about what's happening in New York every week. You can check out the website here. I love it because its this odd mashup of popular culture, things to do and see, and great, just fantastic journalism and writing. There are truly insightful articles and investigative reports. This week's issue includes the stories from 30 prominent New Yorkers about their first time living in / seeing the / learning about the city itself. It got me to thinking about my first memories of the city.

As a child....I remember two things. First, seeing the city from the deck of my father's tug boat as we chugged around the island of Manhattan. I can't remember the occasion, probably just a day at work for him or a Saturday outing where my mother would have a hairy conniption at the image of her baby girls traipsing over some plank of wood that bridged the gap between the dock and the deck of the tug. Below was always some litter, scum laden water---you know, the kind with that beige frothy foam like you see on root beer float--but disgusting. What I remember most about it is that when viewing the city and its skyline shooting up from the water, you can actually see/perceive the curvature of the earth. I remember distinctly asking my dad about it and him explaining in the simplest way that you could see it because the buildings are so tall and the tops of them are so far away from the earth. I recall thinking that Columbus was right! It was as if I had personally disproved the Flat Earth Theory.

As an adult....okay, a teenager....the first trip I made into the city without my parents was when I was around 15 or 16 years old. I HAVE NO IDEA WHY MY MOTHER LET ME GO. But she did. I took a bus into the city for a matinee show (I think it was "Show Boat" but I can't recall) with my friend Dwight. I don't remember being nervous or concerned at all. We got off the bus at Port Authority and took a taxi to the show. I remember walking down 5th Avenue and stopping at St. Patrick's Cathedral and Tiffany's. To this day when I go to New York I feel oddly compelled to go to those two places. I just associate seeing them both with the place itself. The pious and the commercial places of worship in the center of the city. The only other thing I distinctly remember about that day was a woman that Dwight and I saw on an escalator. She was verging on elderly, but she was spry. The problem was her hair. She had vainly attempted to retain a youthful strawberry blonde, but the results of her effort had rewarded her with a bouffant the color of oven baked salmon. A big, puffy salmon souffle. For some reason, we found this incredibly uproariously hysterical and we laughed about it for years.

I don't love New York. As a young person living near it, I thought it was the center of the known universe. I was sure I'd live there at some point. Sure I'd be part of it somehow. But now, I'm glad I'm not. I love cities and I could easily become a city dweller. But it wouldn't be in New York. For me, its too big. Too insurmountable. A monolith. It reminds me of the Death Star in Star Wars. Its this big thing with all of people moving around it, through it, and in it. And it can't be for any good, common purpose. And like the Death Star, as you draw closer to it its enormity and complexity is shocking. But it can be magical and I understand its inevitable pull for people--especially young ones. Like the song says...if you can make it there, you can make it anywhere. I just don't want to.