On My Other Home
If it wasn’t obvious, I have been in New York for the past couple of days. Going back makes me feel like I’m re-living parts of my old life; It’s so easy to fall back into my old routine that it’s almost as if I’ve never left. Flying back makes me feel like I’m going back home even though Minnesota is my home state. Being in Minnesota for too long makes me homesick for New York but being in New York for too long makes me homesick for Minnesota. It’s a strange, confusing feeling. I’ve posted this quote before and I still love it:
“It is necessary to find one’s own way in New York. New York City is not hospitable. She is very big and she has no heart. She is not charming. She is not sympathetic. She is rushed and noisy and unkempt, a hard, ambitious, irresolute place, not very lively, and never gay. When she glitters she is very, very bright, and when she does not glitter she is dirty. New York does nothing for those of us who are inclined to love her except implant in our hearts a homesickness that baffles us until we go away from her, and then we realize why we are restless. At home or away, we are homesick for New York not because New York used to be better and not because she used to be worse but because the city holds us and we don’t know why.”
Sigh. I miss good lox & bagels. I miss lobster rolls. I miss paying for dollar oysters (that are not Blue Points). I like that I can use Yiddish words and people know exactly what I mean. And I miss my friends, of course. But I do not miss “happy hour” ($7?! You can get $2 beers in Minneapolis). I do not miss the smell of the subway on a rainy day. I do not miss waiting for the L.
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