Home From New York

We’ve just returned from a trip to New York City visiting my sister and her husband who moved up there this fall to attend The Art Students League.  Though Philip’s been there numerous times for business and pleasure, I’d never set foot beyond the bounds of JFK Airport.  Not even when Liz lived there for a semester five years ago was I lured out of my little Southern realm for a weekend in the city.  But I knew that she was coming back, then, and I suppose that made all the difference.  She’s not coming back this time—at least, not in the foreseeable future.  And so, if the precious cord of communion between my sister’s heart and mine was to remain in good working order, I was going to have to get on a plane and trust myself to the unknown terrors of the City That Never Sleeps.  Remembering the adage we’ve always held in our family, “We don’t care how they do it in New York,” I was prepared to endure the subway and the crowds, have a marvelous time with my sister, and then hasten back to my quiet little nest.  I wasn’t prepared to fall in love—but that’s exactly what I did. 

New York is a city of such extremes and contradictions.  In my ignorance of what makes the Great Metropolis great I had refuted the idea that New York is an accurate representation of American culture, but I take it all back!  New York is America, for better or for worse.  I really believe that it does contain in one jam-packed mass of population all that is best and worst about us as a country.  It defies racial boundaries; and yet it has a class system in place that would rival feudal England.  Its beauties are dazzling; its ugly side is about as bad as it gets.  It’s probably the world’s capitol of greed and excess—and yet it’s unlikely there’s a spot on the globe with a higher population of genuinely kind and compassionate people.  It’s completely safe and it’s a little scary…and totally exhilarating!!

I’m still a bit bewildered by the thoughts and impressions parading through my mind and attempting to make sense of the frantic notes I scribbled sitting in cafes.  But for the benefit of those who might be interested, I thought I’d offer just a few vignettes over the next couple of days.

For a better acquaintance with our beloved tour guides, Liz and Dave, you can read about our summer vacation together here.  Dave is as great a guy as there is—no one makes us laugh like he does.  And Liz, well, I say that she’s another Holly Golightly—minus the shady occupation. 🙂  She’s a perfectly respectable nanny on the Upper West Side—and an adorable little live wire of joie de vivre. 

Stay tuned…