THE MANY VIEW POINTS OF NEW YORK

I moved to New York in 1983, at the age of 19. Today, I wandered around the City I call home; I am 61. Besides the energy that the Streets of New York give off, what struck me most about my walk today was that I am now the elder statesman, the doyenne if you will. For the first time I really felt surround by the youthful exuberance and wide-eyed optimism that New York attracts; the enthusiasm that I may no longer have in abundance.

Indeed, at the age of 19, I was one of those eager and ambitious young adults who moved to New York to pursue her dreams. 42-years later, my dreams have changed, and I definitely show wear and tear; but as I walk around now, I have a different appreciation and perspective of New York. What was most jarring to me in this realization, however, is that I now represent Old New York.

When I first moved to New York, I had my entire life ahead of me. I wasn’t tied to anyone or anything. My only possessions were my dance bag and a futon. I had the freedom to pursue what I wanted, change direction as needed, and build a life. What I realize now, is I have a lot more stuff and a lot more responsibility. I have built a full life and in doing so, I have made commitments and formed meaningful relationships that now have people depending on me, and I relying on others.

I will never, and quite frankly don’t want to ever, forget what it felt like to be the new kid in town. I had few friends and even less money. I worked multiple jobs to make ends meet. My first apartment was over a Baskin Robbins, and I remember I would treat myself once a week to an ice cream. That was quite a splurge for me.

As I was scooping ice cream, typing a cookbook, or working at an answering service (yes, those are real jobs that I had) I would meet people who seemed, at least to me, to be well established. People who had their own apartments (I had roommates); hung paintings on the wall, not thumb-tacked posters; who had steady jobs and a career on the upswing; and who could treat themselves to a $3.00 cappuccino (it was the early 1980s).

What really dawned on me today as I was eating my $50 lunch, is that I am now the person that I used to admire; the well-established person who younger generations think have it all together. Hint: you never have it all together, but I am now able to enjoy New York in a very different way than I could when I first moved here.

The New York of today, however, is quite different than the New York of my young adulthood. Equally eye-opening is that the New York I set out for in 1983 is considered the Old New York to current generations. To me, Old New York will always be the Astor’s, Helmsley’s, checkered cabs, and the PanAm Building. My New York consists of Bonwit Teller, South Street Seaport, break dancers performing in the street, and subway cars full of graffiti. It seems like it was yesterday, but I guess My New York has, indeed, turned into Old New York.

And, that’s just it, New York has been the back-drop for so many people to discover themselves and establish roots. It is only natural that My New York would give way to future New Yorkers, just as other generations gave way to mine.

The one thing that all of New York has in common is that it takes a lot of hard work, perseverance, luck, sacrifice, and chutzpah to live in this special City. It isn’t for everyone, but if you are one of the steadfast who consider themselves a New Yorker, the opportunity to grow older and see the many view points of New York first-hand is quite the reward.