This is wonderful! Like you, I did a stretch in NYC in the 8Os, and like you, I wasn’t great at it. But I wouldn’t have missed it for anything. I often dream of moving there now, 40 years later and more at ease with who I am. I’m so glad to hear how moving back worked out for you.
This line struck me especially:
“Living where you grew up, I found, gave you great spiritual capital you could regularly tap into.”
And seeing folks you’ve known since childhood, too. Though many are not even friends, when I think of moving away, I don’t know if I could bear to leave them behind.
>>Living where you grew up, I found, gave you great spiritual capital you could regularly tap into; it gave cohesion to this life.
I think about something similar all the time. I had a peripatetic life and now wonder if it's too late to ever belong anywhere. Like Michael, I've settled on the idea that there is no planning, only intent -- things happen, we adjust. Who knows what the future will bring?
I love this--and coincidentally, I recently read Ann's piece (about, among other things, your anniversary) but I didn't put the names together until this one. I love these New York stories--it was never my dream, but it was my dad's, who never lived there, and my daughter's, who did (Chelsea). Happy Anniversaries!
I enjoyed this greatly as someone who lives in her hometown but has spent a lot of time in NYC and always aspired to live there someday.
I also remember finding Ann Hood’s first novel on my mom’s bookshelf probably a year or two after it came out (I was in junior high at the time) and devouring it—and many others since.
I loved this post. That city, world, and village was my home in the 1980s, too. I sometimes envision myself back in NYC again, but even in my daydreams, it is only for a visit. I live in an even smaller space now, but that's life on a sailboat.
A well-written and enjoyable read. And I’m pleased the author has found a place and companions to feel ‘at home’ with. Such a feeling seems increasingly rare in this world.
The piece also highlights the veracity of that old chestnut ‘different strokes for different folks.’ Much like the author describes his return to Cleveland, I still live in my hometown of over sixty years now. The memories of my childhood and young adulthood are ever present. I walk my dogs along trails where I played as a child, shared my first kiss, and drank cold beers on hot summer nights looking out over the lights of my town.
But rather than ultimately finding my place in a tiny apartment on the lower East Side of Manhattan, I regularly decamp to a cabin in the middle of a couple of hundred acres in a county with a population of less than 3500 people. I’ve got a few neighbors, but they’re not very close, and most of our interactions consist of a quick wave should pass one another on the county road going into town. But I don’t go into town much, preferring the solitude and the company of my dogs, the neighbor’s cows grazing in the pasture, and the local critters. It’s wide open country with pasture and pines, mountains and endless sky, and shifting seasons with weather that changes by the minute.
To say the notion of living in NYC gives me the screaming fantods would be a gross understatement — I wouldn’t last … well, I wouldn’t last a New York minute.
My goodness, this hit up against so many of my NYC memories. I lived in the West Village for much of my 20s. Ironically, I earned good money as a celebrity makeup artist, but I always felt terrified I would have some change of luck and end up homeless. It haunted me, even as I loved the city.
Eventually, I left because the pace was too much. But I've missed it every single day.
I wonder if I'd enjoy living there 30 years later, as he did. Or would it hurt my heart because that experience would upend my 90s memories of the city.
It would definitely be interesting as a full grown woman to see how NY feels to me now. I'd probably choose the UWS this time, though. Or somewhere in Brooklyn.
Lovely, lovely essay. For some of us, New York is a great place to visit, and our hometowns are somewhat less great places to visit that only prove to us that there is next to no spiritual capital there (looking at you, large Texas metropolis). I'm happiest in a place that strikes a delicate balance between elbow room and community.
You should catch Wonderful Town at City Center. A little dated but it’s about leaving Ohio to live on Christopher Street and follow one’s writer dreams.
This is wonderful! Like you, I did a stretch in NYC in the 8Os, and like you, I wasn’t great at it. But I wouldn’t have missed it for anything. I often dream of moving there now, 40 years later and more at ease with who I am. I’m so glad to hear how moving back worked out for you.
This line struck me especially:
“Living where you grew up, I found, gave you great spiritual capital you could regularly tap into.”
And seeing folks you’ve known since childhood, too. Though many are not even friends, when I think of moving away, I don’t know if I could bear to leave them behind.
>>Living where you grew up, I found, gave you great spiritual capital you could regularly tap into; it gave cohesion to this life.
I think about something similar all the time. I had a peripatetic life and now wonder if it's too late to ever belong anywhere. Like Michael, I've settled on the idea that there is no planning, only intent -- things happen, we adjust. Who knows what the future will bring?
Yes! Life is so unpredictable, whether or not you’re a planner.
Michael, this is wonderful. Thank you so much for sharing your New York story.
What a wonderful story. Happy ending and all! I'm an expat New Yorker and walked and lived the streets you wrote about.
I love this--and coincidentally, I recently read Ann's piece (about, among other things, your anniversary) but I didn't put the names together until this one. I love these New York stories--it was never my dream, but it was my dad's, who never lived there, and my daughter's, who did (Chelsea). Happy Anniversaries!
I enjoyed this greatly as someone who lives in her hometown but has spent a lot of time in NYC and always aspired to live there someday.
I also remember finding Ann Hood’s first novel on my mom’s bookshelf probably a year or two after it came out (I was in junior high at the time) and devouring it—and many others since.
I love this!
I loved this post. That city, world, and village was my home in the 1980s, too. I sometimes envision myself back in NYC again, but even in my daydreams, it is only for a visit. I live in an even smaller space now, but that's life on a sailboat.
Oh, that's right, you live in the smallest space of all!
Thank goodness I lived in NYC in tiny places for many years.
You didn't know you were training for life on a sailboat!
Yeah, exactly. My last studio in 1988 down in Chelsea, was about 200 Sq feet. Cost me $700 a month back then!
I loved reading this. Love hearing anyone who’s able to be successful at living in New York! I wish I could, but I think it’s still a fantasy for me.
It's a hard place to both leave, and stay...
It’s true. I lived there for a while and I’m not sure if I could again.
So, Goodbye to All That, but also Hello Again to All That. There’s another book in the series for you, Sari. And Didion isn’t around to complain.
Yes, there already is a second book, Never Can Say Goodbye!! http://www.simonandschuster.com/books/Never-Can-Say-Goodbye/Sari-Botton/9781476784403
A well-written and enjoyable read. And I’m pleased the author has found a place and companions to feel ‘at home’ with. Such a feeling seems increasingly rare in this world.
The piece also highlights the veracity of that old chestnut ‘different strokes for different folks.’ Much like the author describes his return to Cleveland, I still live in my hometown of over sixty years now. The memories of my childhood and young adulthood are ever present. I walk my dogs along trails where I played as a child, shared my first kiss, and drank cold beers on hot summer nights looking out over the lights of my town.
But rather than ultimately finding my place in a tiny apartment on the lower East Side of Manhattan, I regularly decamp to a cabin in the middle of a couple of hundred acres in a county with a population of less than 3500 people. I’ve got a few neighbors, but they’re not very close, and most of our interactions consist of a quick wave should pass one another on the county road going into town. But I don’t go into town much, preferring the solitude and the company of my dogs, the neighbor’s cows grazing in the pasture, and the local critters. It’s wide open country with pasture and pines, mountains and endless sky, and shifting seasons with weather that changes by the minute.
To say the notion of living in NYC gives me the screaming fantods would be a gross understatement — I wouldn’t last … well, I wouldn’t last a New York minute.
My goodness, this hit up against so many of my NYC memories. I lived in the West Village for much of my 20s. Ironically, I earned good money as a celebrity makeup artist, but I always felt terrified I would have some change of luck and end up homeless. It haunted me, even as I loved the city.
Eventually, I left because the pace was too much. But I've missed it every single day.
Me, too.
I wonder if I'd enjoy living there 30 years later, as he did. Or would it hurt my heart because that experience would upend my 90s memories of the city.
It would definitely be interesting as a full grown woman to see how NY feels to me now. I'd probably choose the UWS this time, though. Or somewhere in Brooklyn.
Three words to describe what you earned after all that verkakte cacophany - retroactive danger pay.
May I have my pants back, please?
Too funny
Lovely, lovely essay. For some of us, New York is a great place to visit, and our hometowns are somewhat less great places to visit that only prove to us that there is next to no spiritual capital there (looking at you, large Texas metropolis). I'm happiest in a place that strikes a delicate balance between elbow room and community.
You should catch Wonderful Town at City Center. A little dated but it’s about leaving Ohio to live on Christopher Street and follow one’s writer dreams.
Lee Krasner
Aaaargh! Thank you!
And Jackson Pollock. And Lucille Lortel theater.
But I loved the piece! Thank you.
I've fixed those typos! Sorry I didn't catch them before publication. (I'm doing too much!)