New Yorkful

New York City was my dream in high school, fed by movies and TV. When I was 22, I moved there. It was rough; there was street and subway crime, and in some neighborhoods you had to be alert. But for a restless Hoosier boy, NYC was magical.

My recent visit was delightful enough, yet I felt my age, especially when walking. Rural life has taken its toll. But in the end, I truly didn’t feel connected to the city. It’s now an abstraction to me.

I suppose this is inevitable. The Promised Land eventually crumbles. But there are countless young people making NYC their home. They’re all over the place, talking on their phones, yakking it up at corner bistros, living their urban life.

I watched a lot of this sitting in Tompkins Square Park. Parts of it saddened me (I lament the loss of an NYC filled with intellectual conversations and creative exploration), other parts tapped into their energy. I realized I’m the white bearded old man that I used to see in my 20s. To quote Vonnegut, so it goes.

I plan to visit NYC again in the next couple of months. Perhaps a few months after that. I want to get into the current city’s blood.

Finally, I’m a tourist.