New York and Me

I wasn’t going to write this entry until 9/11.  It was going to be my yearly 9/11entry topic.  But I think I’m sorting things out a bit, and I want to write out those bits before they get lost.

I don’t get why 9/11 affects me the way it does.  I don’t get why I grieve the way I do over this continued war and the soldiers who have lost their lives.  I have a few friends in the military, but no one I’m especially close to anymore.  No one that I greet coming off a plane or anything.  Sure, when Tom Brown was over there with JAG, I thought about him a bit and prayer for his safe return.  But I haven’t actually seen or talked to the man in years.  Its honestly kind of annoying to me how upset I get.  What about the people who have spouses returned to them in a wooden box?  What about the children who will grow up with one parent?  Do I have the right to be upset when none of those things have happened to me?

I don’t know the answer to those questions.  But I do remember the progression of thoughts in my mind on that day, in that moment that the announcement came over the speaker.  I was a senior in high school.  The majority of my friends were right about that benchmark age of eighteen.  We were going to be allowed to vote and drive past nine o’clock and pay taxes and… fight in the military.  Not only fight in the military, but be drafted. I know, I know, its been years since the draft has been put into effect.  And who knows what a new draft might look like.  But I had just helped one of my friends at the time fill out his Selective Service System information.  It was a possibility.  He could potentially be handed and gun and sent off to fight.  The idea of our country being at war was no longer a concept in the history books.  Not to mention, it was the first attack on US soil in many, many years.  Another history book concept that was becoming a reality.  I had read about military attacks and war maneuvers in books, truth and fiction.  But those were things that happened in other places to other people.  Not here.  Not in my city.

There is also a concept about New York City and its surrounding suburbs that is hard to explain.  I’ve not found anything like it anywhere else.  I did not grow up in New York City proper.  I do not consider myself a city girl by any stretch of the imagination.  But that city was still a part of my childhood and growing up.  It was like this for many of my friends.  They had family still living in the city or they went down to see shows or concerts.  I didn’t know this until recently, but New York City has the largest mass transit system in the world.  Not one of the largest – THE largest.  That doesn’t include the commuter trains that run from downstate and Connecticut into the city.  Chicago’s suburbs has something similar, but its not anywhere near the same concept of the Metro North commuter rails.  Metro North had a train leaving the station about every 30 minutes from very early in the morning until very late at night.  If you missed this one, it would not be long until another came passing through.  It was almost like the subway system.  You never needed to know the schedule because the trains were so frequent.  

So although I did not grow up in the City, and I don’t consider myself a city girl, my relationship with New York City is nothing like most people assume.  My cousin grew up closer to Chicago than I did to NYC, but she and her family do not have the same connection to that city.  Or else people assume that NY is just the city.  Or they assume that since I say I’m from NY I must mean NYC.

And I don’t want to write more on this right now.  But just this – My missing New York is just another thing that separates me out from people in this area.  Not only do they not know, they don’t even comprehend what its like.  They can’t seem to understand that no matter where I go or what I do, I will always be a New Yorker at heart.  I will always miss it and feel just slightly incomplete because I can’t carry it in my pocket wherever I go.  In a different way, the same is true with Scotland.  There is a piece of my heart that is running like mad out in the Highlands.  She is wild and free and flying high.

I’m not saying that I want to move back to NY.  For the first time in my life, I feel comfortable and okay with the idea of staying in Michigan for the moment, however long that moment might last.  But that does not, in any sense, mean that I miss New York or Scotland less than before.  It does not mean I won’t jump at the chance to go back and visit and be in that place again for a time.  And maybe thats the hardest thing for other people to understand.  I miss it like crazy, but I don’t actually want to move back there.

My knee-jerk, mean-spirited, childish response to their not understanding is because none of them have ever really left Michigan, let alone their own town.  Visiting is different than living, and most of the people here have never even visited New York, the state or the city.  I don’t understand it, but people in this area do not feel its important to travel or experience new things.  They think PF Changs is real Chinese food.  They think Chicago-style pizza is close enough to NY-style pizza.  They think only Dutch people are good enough.

Speaking of Dutch, Stacy said something about everyone in the walking group being Dutch.  And I pipped up that I was definitely, most absolutely not Dutch.  She replied that I was an honorary Dutch.  I fired back that I did not want to be.  I was Scottish, English, and German and NOT Dutch.  She was a little taken aback, but I don’t think she (or the others who have said something similar) realize how it makes me feel.  No, it does not make me feel included.  It makes me feel that I am not good enough without it.  I’m not complete.  I’m not okay.  That I can NOT be included unless I’m Dutch.  I don’t want to be Dutch.  I like me fine just the way I am.  Why is that not good enough?

Maybe… and this is really reaching I think…  Maybe that is what racism can really feel like.  "Oh, well you’re basically white because you live in this neighborhood."  "Oh, well you’re Muslim because you’re Arab."  Its not the same thing but there are some similarities.  Why do people (me included) constantly feel like they need to group together, they need to conform and become all the same?  It is an acceptance thing?  Are we constantly searching for somewhere to belong?  Or is it something else?

I don’t know, but I do know I need to head into work before rush hour traffic picks up.  Ugh.  I’m so exhausted.  Maybe I’ll take a little nap first…