Thirty-five sweet goodbyes
There are not a lot of things I enjoy about the process of getting a kid into high school in New York City, but I have been enjoying exploring new neighborhoods as we traipse across the city to open houses, tours, exams and interviews. Tonight’s neighborhood was the Lower East Side, which looks exactly like what the New York City of my imagination looks like, which is lies at the intersection of The Godfather, Desperately Seeking Susan and my dim recollections of my childhood trips on the train from Connecticut to visit my father at his office.
One of the things I loved to do when I visited him was to look out the window, which seemed absurdly high, like maybe almost on the moon. The other thing I loved to do was to play with the bright red Soma cube he had on his desk. I’d take it apart and put it back together again, trying to see how quickly I could do it. That same cube now sits on the corner of my desk. I almost never take it apart anymore. But it reminds me of my dad, who is someone I like to think of when I’m sitting at my desk.
Midtown, though, is nothing like the Lower East Side. It is full of fire escapes and people standing in shadowy doorways. It’s film noir to Midtown’s studio blockbuster. It’s a good place to imagine you’re a spy. Especially if you’re a spy who likes lattes and fancy sandwiches with a side of danger.