Every time I look at pictures of NYC, Frank Sinatra plays in my head. Doesn’t happen when I’m there, especially when I’m stuck in midtown in a rental, at a light, with no hope of getting to my destination. Pigeons walk faster. Who rents a car in New York?! Or … in my cousin’s words “What the heck is wrong with you? You can’t take the train?” But more on the pesky habits I’ve picked up in LA another time. Not only did we celebrate 85 years with the Rockettes, my son and I walked (yes, walked!) all over town. He always leaves with a better understanding about the way I grew up, and why I don’t spend 15 minutes chit-chatting or paying compliments before delivering a point. Really, there was no time for that. And, as it stands, can’t say I’ve mastered the art of having a pre-conversation.
Let’s move it people! I have a Kangocho coffee from Kenya waiting for me at Intelligentsia! All four of you, move out of the way! (I’ve noted by the strange stares that his hustle & bustle talk doesn’t translate well in Pasadena. I smell a 2013 resolution, maybe??)
FAO Shwarz, St. Patrick’s Cathedral, the Tree and the beautiful window displays made for a wonderful mom and son afternoon. Hot dogs were also invited. It was a happier day than the one spent at the Freedom Towers a few days prior. Visiting reminded me of my years at the World Financial Center. My first job. I was a front desk receptionist at a banking firm. It’s what I did while I worked on my arts education credentials. As I walked around the area, I felt an overwhelming amount of sadness and pride at once. In fact, I didn’t fly for years after 9/11. This was the first time I ever flew alone, and to NYC at that (my son was in Philly with grandparents).
My visits to NYC are always a mixed bag of emotions. Needles to say, it was a perfect way to end 2012.