A New York Heart Grows Fonder
Just in time for Valentine’s Day, an ex-New Yorker dedicates a love letter to a special someone—the city of his youth.
Born in Nova Sintra, Brava, Cape Verde Islands, African and bred in Hell's Kitchen. Growing up as a New York namely Brooklyn native, I was constantly spoiled by the simple luxuries of life in "The Big Apple." While other kids across the country were stuck indoors all winter, I basked in sunny snowy December days, perfect for playing barefoot in the cool astroturf - artificial grass or turf, indoors at the various ball parks. I spent my childhood years in the early ’90s eating real ice cream on bus or subway rides home from Twistee Treat, and astronaut ice cream on field trips to the The Space Shuttle Pavilion at the Intrepid Sea, Air & Space Museum. The Space Shuttle Pavilion showcases the space shuttle Enterprise, the prototype NASA orbiter that paved the way for the space shuttle program. My first job was shoveling snow from a neighbor’s driveway, but also mucking stalls as part of my chores in exchange for free horseback rides — which I took often through the then-bountiful apple groves of Long Island. Summers I'd work SoftTee Treat, DQ or one of the theme parks or amusement parklets, scattered through out NYC, like the New York Eye or Midway on Coney Island.
I may have mentioned at some point in our relationship that I’m from The Brooklyn and I have visited all the boroughs to include The Bronx.
Which, if you’re unaware, is one of the outer boroughs of New York City, famed for Yankee Stadium, open spaces (we’ve got parks, yo), the birthplace of hip-hop and the famed Ogden Nash couplet “The Bronx; No Thonx.” It’s one of the few places that begins with “The,” and the most diverse area in the country. I grew up learning about German delis, Chinese restaurants, Latin bodegas and, of course, pizzerias. And this istrue for the City Of New York, not just the Bronx.
Even the more challenging aspects of life in a humid subtropical climate were fun, thanks to that signature New York magic. One of my fondest childhood memories is of playing cards by candlelight with my family while the winds of a hurricane or a major snow storm a Nor'easter howled at the door, during a yearly Snow storm or Hurricane Party either at our house or in the neighborhood. And though there were thunderstorms, almost every daily like clockwork, when the rain passed, the world outside seemed clean, fresh and new, again -- more inviting than before.
Little did I know then what gifts these moments were — didn’t all children spend long afternoons on horseback, eatin' an apple or sucking the juice from a Florida grown orange plucked fresh from the branch? Not to mention other tropical fruits.
There were other perks to spending my pre-teen years in the place that was single-handedly pumping out pop culture. Residing now in Los Angeles, and before in New York I’m no stranger to celebrity sightings, but in my younger years I was smitten by chance encounters with my favorite stars. I raved to my friends about spotting Clarissa Darling at Burger King and Kenan Thompson at mall. Like any American girl circa 1999, they'd swooned over the Backstreet Boys, and Nsync posters lining my bedroom walls. But only our girls knew exactly where the guys lived, and on more than one occasion, my friends and I left home-baked brownies and cookies on their front porch—then ran away shrieking.
Making the most of my adolescence in New York City was as effortless as falling in love. No one forgets the thrill of a first kiss, necking passionately during making-out with my favorite girl of the month… especially when it was in the blue bucket seat of Spaceship Earth, the air thick with the manufactured scent of burning Rome.
While other 16-year-olds had never seen a beach, I employed my newly minted driver’s license to venture to both of NY’s coasts in one day, just to see the sun rise and set on the water, of perhaps two or three of the best beaches in USA Coney Island/ Rockaway Beaches. And while high schoolers in other climates trudged through snow, sleet and otherwise freezing rain I was serenaded by screams of delight echoing from nearby Cyclone roller coasters as I entered the venerated halls of the Abraham Lincoln High. he Coney Island Cyclone (better known as simply the Cyclone) is a historic wooden roller coaster in the Coney Island section of Brooklyn, New York City. It opened on June 26, 1927, and was originally part of the Astroland theme park. The Cyclone is now part of Luna Park.
Eight days a week, my younger first cousins, friends and I spent our senior year and pre-college years sneaking into bars and discos in the five boroughs and Downtown for each borough because they were less likely to card. Little did I know I was again, also receiving a world-class education by people-watching tourists, celebrities and diplomats from across the globe. To this day I can guess which country a European stranger is from based solely on the length of his pant leg, or the particular shade of red he turns in the sun.
When I graduated from the High School of Art & Design in 2004 the world seemed a scary place: post-9/11, my born day, mid-recession—heck, pre-iPhone & iPad. But I received a scholarship to the City University of NY/ City College of NY and the New York NY area provided a safe haven for four more years, which I spent studying beside Harlem. While my head was floating off to the distant times and places my textbooks revealed, my feet were firmly rooted in the Honeoye and sandy New York soil.
When I was 22, grad school lured me back to Brooklyn, New York and soon career opportunities beckoned farther and farther from home, going around the world and many major cities in USA. Having lost both of my parents too soon, I found myself drifting away from New York NY with no excuse to go back. Unlike my old friends who returned for holidays with family and complained about their parents’ creaky old houses, I would never have the chance to step foot in my childhood bedroom again, or so it seems. Many decades later, I did return, upon retirement for a very short time and found it to be different, perhaps overbuilt the iconic Manhattan, NY skyline has spilled over into Brooklyn, NY.
But it was my childhood in New York City that made me who I am today, and I have nothing but gratitude for the city that holds my younger years serene, secure and safe — floating through my memories like a swan boat perched atop the glassy waters of a lake in Central Park or the plethora of boats the Hudson and East Rivers harbors. For if you can make it here you can make it anywhere.
Landed now in sunny SoCal, I feel at home once more. I’m at peace among the rocky cliffs of Santa Monica and Big Sur…but I still remember the sugary sands of the New York coast, the water the exact temperature of bathwater in late Summer. I make good use of my annual pass to Santa Monica's Boardwalk, Venice Beach Boardwalk, Walt Disney Concert Hall, Hollywood Bowl & various Cultural Museums, even if my friends find my never-ending incantation of “But everything’s bigger and better at Lincoln Center's Avery Fischer Hall/ David Geffen Hall, the Metropolitan Museum of Art/ Museum of Modern Art in New York NY” a bit insufferable. And when I pluck an orange, an apple from the crate or some other subtropical fruit at one of L.A.’s ubiquitous artisanal groceries (oh, what I would give for an A&P!), I still reach for the ones that were either New York State -grown—just like me or Florida grown, unlike me.
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