see, that last post was supposed to be about new york city. though i took the u.n. statistics and veered off seamlessly into a completely different direction (from cities and city life to cultural identity), i curbed my urge to veer wildly back to my original thought process, which would have consequentially destroyed the flow of thought. to many, the post would have been rendered incomprehensible.
aren’t you proud of me Reader?
though i agree with a button i read recently: “i’m not random – you’re just not smart enough to keep up with me.”
in dorothy parker’s short story “big blonde,” she deliciously describes the main character’s journey to newark, on the train from new york city. the main character it seems, had never been to new jersey, had never been outside new york even, because everything she had ever needed could be found in nyc (except for the suicidal sleeping pills she could only get in jersey without a prescription, the whole reason for her going).
this was 1920’s new york, and perhaps back then, it was perfectly feasible to never leave the city. but even today, i know of new yorkers who are like dorothy parker’s – perfectly self-sufficient in new york, and taking pride in the fact that they are true new yorkers through and through. even parker herself later apologized for the slight technicality of her birth – she was born in august, in her parents’ summer house in long branch, nj, and thus was not born a new yorker. but she insists that they rushed back right after labor day to achieve a certain new york authenticity for the newborn baby.
cities tend to be little islands in themselves – the best example being of course berlin during the cold war, a piece of west germany in west berlin, surrounded by eastern german territory.
but new york is unlike any other city in the world. i have fond memories of visiting my dad’s office when he worked in the city (he worked there for 10 years, for a computer company with an office in soho, just outside of where the lincoln tunnel spit you out from new jersey…i enjoyed that office, because at that age, i had no idea how grueling it was for my father to drive an hour and a half each way, and how exhausted he would be when he came home at 7 or 8 pm every night...i was even older when i realized it was a sacrifice for my sake, so that i could grow up going to school in a wonderful suburban neighborhood, playing hopscotch in our parking lot safely). i have even fonder memories of the world trade center buildings.
i won’t call them the “twin towers” or even “wtc” – those monikers have become repulsive to me (as words used in state-sponsored propaganda often become – for more on this, see germany, 1937-1945). the abbreviations we use for the world trade center buildings have become as difficult to swallow as the phrase “weapons of mass destruction.” even the day of their destruction, as i drove to school and listened to the radio, i was confused as to what the radio commentator meant when he called them “the south tower” and the “north tower.”
to me, they will always be the world trade center buildings, because that was what they were for – a piece of international territory in new york, with international citizens. we’d taken countless people from numerous foreign countries in and around the buildings over the years, all of our visiting friends and family members. i had a special ritual with the buildings, stemming to when i was a young girl – as we neared the buildings to park in the lot across the street, i would crane my neck back as far as it would go to try and see the tops of the two skyscrapers. i even did this as an 18-year-old, when we last visited in 2000.
did you ever go inside the buildings and take the elevator up to the viewing area? then you must remember the lobby, and how there was no security back then (as there is in the empire state buildings now). you simply entered into a lobby with faux green carpety/astroturfy stuff, and all around, hanging from the balcony above, were flags of the world. it was a special game to try and spot the pakistani flag in the mix, because it seemed that every time we were there, the flags had been switched to different positions.
that place to me was always where the world came together. tourists speaking a dozen different languages spoke in tones of awe at our accomplishment in this building, with its views of the city from the high glass windows. it was the heart of the city, and even though i still love the city today, the skyline has become normal and routine, and something seems to have been lost. in their obliteration, the buildings which once symbolized our connection to the world have become a symbol of its severance.
yet the essence of new york remains. the microcosmic culture, the artistic haunts in greenwich and soho, the amazement at finding a perfect little italian restaurant, hidden in the shadow of a more popular counterpart (where they don’t take reservations, and lines out the door mean if you wait, you won’t get dinner until 10 pm), where pretentiousness meets innovation, where people walk the sidewalks like superior beings, where fifth avenue chic meets boho hobos. it’s a city of contradictions.
No comments:
Post a Comment