Ahh, New York, New York, City That I Love. I'm just back from a weekend in Gotham City, visiting the besties, the nieces, and checking in with my knee surgeon. Thanks to the lack of job, i was able to squeeze in an extra day to largely meander about, soaking up the streets and the people. I love this City. I love the different neighborhoods - beloved happy hipster Park Slope, the intimidating shadows of Wall Street, the insufferable SoHo with shops full of everything i want and nothing i can afford, quiet Roosevelt Island with its shiny new tram, superb night views, and the lilt of seven languages being spoken at once from the UN residents. I love the East Side solitude, the West Side insanity, the downtown labyrinth of alleys, the uptown smaller-town feel. I love the history, the buildings that lean on each other in the fight for sunlight, i love the subway with its peeling paint and street musicians. I love the brilliant architecture, ever changing, ever reaching. I love the art - the teeming masses at the Met, the hidden gem of the Frick. But i mostly love the people - their hyperactive minds written all over their faces, their emotions shared with you as your eyes meet for a few seconds before passing. Everyone from everywhere is here, getting along (mostly famously), even if it doesn't always look like it. I think perhaps Whitman sums it up best:
| Broadway |
 | |
| What hurrying human tides, or day or night! | |
| What passions, winnings, losses, ardors, swim thy waters! | |
| What whirls of evil, bliss and sorrow, stem thee! | |
| What curious questioning glances — glints of love! | |
| 5 | Leer, envy, scorn, contempt, hope, aspiration! |
| Thou portal — thou arena — thou of the myriad long-drawn lines and groups! | |
| (Could but thy flagstones, curbs, façades, tell their inimitable tales; | |
| Thy windows rich, and huge hotels — thy side-walks wide;) | |
| Thou of the endless sliding, mincing, shuffling feet! | |
| 10 | Thou, like the parti-colored world itself — like infinite, teeming, mocking life! |
| Thou visor'd, vast, unspeakable show and lesson! |
I also love the greenery throughout New York - in Central Park, where hidden corners can be found even on the most beautiful June day, or the alley of cherry blossoms in bloom in Prospect Park. Under the blanket of snow and frigid temperatures, Central Park was nearly deserted:
I've nearly moved here twice and pseudo-lived here for a year and a half, and it's always so hard to leave this place, but maybe someday I'll be back more permanently. This poem seems truly fitting for a midwestern girl like me:
These Ever Just So Six Million New York Hearts and Dorothy
flowers, no daisies . . . not even the wind on greens and flowers
can hold you long.
You will not stay on prairie wastes, girl, for you have listened to
the rivers of Manhattan at nighttime: you have been quite too near
these ever just so six million New York hearts: you have
watched quite too many New York sunsets and dawns.
You'll come back, girl: quite soon these ever just so New York floors
and stones will feel your quick, sharp walk.
You cannot stay with prairie wastes and flowers, girl, for you have
breathed the scent of New York too long.
You have been quite too near these ever just so six million New York
hearts; and they will someday call you back, girl.Robert Clairmont, From Quintillions (NY: American Sunbeam Publisher, 2005)
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