Go NY! Go NY! Go!
I don’t remember when or how it happened since the imagery of New York is ubiquitous, but I developed a major crush on the city.
As a kid growing up in Texas, I knew I wanted to live in an apartment like Tom Hanks’ in the movie Big. I loved the giant windows, open floor plan, and trampoline, a Soho loft before I knew what Soho was.
When baseball caught my attention, at age 13, I decided Doc Gooden still had a certain mystique and Bobby Bonilla was a great idea, so I pledged my loyalty to the Mets. During the golden age of 90s basketball, we didn’t have cable and my hometown Mavericks were a punchline, so I got my fix like much of the country did at the time, the NBA on NBC.
Michael Jordan was inarguably a basketball deity. While I marveled at his talent, I grew to love the team whose heart he regularly broke, the New York Knicks. They were tough, scrappy and battled their hearts out. Unfortunately they suffered the cruel fate of existing at the same time Jordan’s Bulls did. While Patrick Ewing was ballin’ at the Garden, another phenomenon was happening on television. Shows based in New York were having a moment- Seinfeld, Friends, Mad About You, Felicity, and TRL. So at 23, with a love based on sports and pop culture, it was time to experience New York in real life.
I stayed with a friend in Sparta, New Jersey while I looked for my own place, convinced I’d only need a day or two because I was naive enough to believe the apartment ads on Craigslist and The Village Voice were real. They weren’t.
Walking around scanning buildings for “For Rent” signs wasn’t successful, so I paid $150 for access to the listings on MyNYApt.com. I called a girl who told me the ad I got was over a year old, but as luck would have it her roommate was about to move out. We made arrangements to meet.
I took the F train to the Second Ave stop and I saw the exit sign for Allen Street, Houston Street, I thought, “Allan Houston! Definitely a good sign.” Above ground, I spotted a Knicks sticker on the crosswalk light, I knew I was home. I stopped for a slice at Famous Ray’s, the first bite reminded me of when I was a kid and pizza was my favorite food. I decided to buy a scratch off lottery ticket believing that even if I only won a dollar, it would be a sign that New York would love me back. I won $4, and ended up living my first year in that sublet on 4th Street, in Apt #44.
A couple of months after my arrival, I had a freelance gig near the World Trade Center on that infamous day. It was scary, sobering, all the things you’d imagine that day was for those close to it. After this brush with mortality, I wanted to hear the sound of Hebrew prayers. I went uptown to Temple Emanu-El where the Kaddish, the mourner’s prayer was especially poignant. In the subway station there were photos of the missing. On the street, people approached me holding pictures, asking if I’d seen their person. I hadn’t. Back in my neighborhood, near a makeshift vigil, a weary policeman crossed my path and asked how I was doing.
Filled with perspective, I replied, “I’m perfect.”
He looked at me quizzically and said, “You’re the only one.”
I clarified, “Well I’m still here, and I’m not missing anyone, so I’m perfect.” He got it.
That weekend I went to Central Park to lounge in the sun on the softest grass I’ve ever felt. I witnessed the United Nations of people that make up this city out enjoying the day, small acts of great resilience in the wake of such tragedy. My seminal New York months were decorated with “I love NY more than ever” signs in almost every window. My worried parents begged me to move back to Texas, but 9/11 had bonded me to my city even more.
Now my dear city is facing yet another challenge. This pandemic has taken the lives of so many New Yorkers, it has taken businesses, both big and small. Many fled to live where there’s more space, less density. Just as I couldn’t abandon New York after 9/11, I can’t abandon it now.
I won’t say I haven’t had a tough day and wondered if life would be easier somewhere else, but then I’ll see the Chrysler Building when it’s a bit foggy and I’ll swoon with Gershwin in my heart for this city all over again.
I was strolling through Tompkins Square Park the other day, it was sunny and within my 5 degree comfort zone for the first time since before winter. Near the fountain, a jazz quartet was playing “Don’t Get Around Much Anymore” which is apropos for these times, when we have in fact not really been able to go much of anywhere.
But soon enough I’ll be able to carry on the beloved tradition of having a beer and hot dog at CitiField. I’ll be able to take a flight somewhere and when I return and that sparkling, shining, iconic skyline comes into view, I’ll get that feeling of needing to pinch myself because I’m lucky enough to live here. The dream realized gets me every time.
20 years after 9/11, and one year into the pandemic, the city is abloom with petals and hope. Once again and still, I love NY more than ever.
And the Knicks are even good again.
