New York, Manhattan and parts of Brooklyn,
are ancestral turf for me.
I also did my university here, Columbia.
But NY does not feel like home.
It was once the center of the universe for me,
but has not felt that way for a long time.
It's where the family lives,
but I do not ever want to live here again.
Being closer to them would be great.
But not here.
Weather, for one. Too cold.
And brutally humid in summer.
We are all supposed to be thrilled with diversity.
But you know what I think of that scam.
As a white man, I am now a distinct minority
in a city where people like me were once the general rule.
Why should I be thrilled?
It's much easier to feel that you don't belong.
And I don't.
When I went to Holy Cross Cemetary in Brooklyn
back in the early 80's to visit the grave of my
father, grandfather and uncle,
I was made to know that I was not welcome
in that now very black part of the city.
And the size and speed of the place, especially after dark,
the rivers of people on the streets,
has a way of inducing a sense of loneliness in me.
Living here would certainly provoke depression.
One final complaint, since I'm in the mood.
An affectation of the local, often Jewish, philanthropic class.
Naming places after husband and wife
with their middle initials included:
The Robert S. and Sadie P. Rosenblaum Pavilion.
I want to go home.