86. New York

Date: November 18, 1988
Age: 11

I can't remember if you have cards in your collection from NYC. So here is one. Nice fireworks.
Love, Dad

NYC postcards are few and far between in my collection. That's probably because Dad rarely took business trips here, and we traveled to the city so often when I was a kid that a postcard didn't seem necessary. My entire family on my father's side grew up in Brooklyn, and his parents remained in his childhood home until they passed away--my grandmother in 1986, and my grandfather would go less than a year after this card was sent.

This is, unfortunately, the closest I have to a postcard representing Brooklyn. But not even--the caption on the back of the card reads "The Brooklyn Bridge in a dazzling fireworks display celebrating its Centennial Anniversary." But the bridge in the foreground is the Manhattan, and the Brooklyn is in the back, unlit and partially obscured by fireworks smoke. Misleading caption! The postcard company is based out of Long Island City. They're locals, for Christ's sake. They couldn't tell the difference? Really?

Anyhoo...all told, I've been living in NYC for eleven years, seven of them being in Brooklyn. I firmly believe it's the best borough in the greatest city on Earth, and so in some ways, it kills me to move to North Carolina in a few months. I am excited as all hell to join an excellent writing program, meet new people, live in a different part of the country, but I will miss it here. In 2003 I moved to Philly for two years; it was just a short drive away from NYC, and I always knew I'd move back eventually, but any sort of reference to the city--The Magnetic Field's The Luckiest Guy on the Lower East Side, or flipping past Sex and the City on TV--would get me all wistful. It'll probably happen again--after all, the city won't be as accessible, and I don't foresee myself moving back here once I finish my MFA. I can't afford it anymore. At this point I see myself in Philly again. I love that city as well, and I must admit, it's much prettier. I have friends there, it's more affordable, family nearby. It's a good fit.

But I think North Carolina will be, too. And I give my fellow writers full permission to smack me up the side of the head if I start waxing poetic about Brooklyn. (Especially because I'm no poet.)

I wish my grandfather had still been alive when I first moved to the city. I know he would have loved having me over for dinner so he could teach me Italian or dance with me. He was one of the most inquisitive people I knew, so he would have asked me so many questions about my new life in New York--classes at NYU, dorm living, etc. I could have learned who he really was as well. Although I know a lot about his life, I don't really know what he was like as a person--I think a grandparent is a persona most people wear, one that's shed once the visit with the kids is over. Grandchildren give you a second chance at being a better parent on a limited basis. My grandfather was caring, loving, funny, lively--but I think he was a strict father, not very nurturing. I'm not really sure. From what I've heard in passing after my they were gone, my dad couldn't stand his parents.

They're buried in the Ditmas Park/Flatbush area, and as far as I know, I've been the only family member to visit their grave since my grandfather's funeral nearly twenty years ago. But even I've only been twice.

This could lead into some introspective "who will remember me once I'm gone?" train of thought, but I'll put that aside for now. Instead, I'll say that visiting my grandparents is at the top of my "farewell NYC" list. Mixed in with final stops to cultural destinations and local watering holes, I will go to the cemetery and visit my grandparents. After all, they're the reason I found myself living in Brooklyn in the first place.