Seminar 1:Memory
Bridge Paper #1
Sensing the Past
Growing up in New York City I have found myself always surrounded by constant motion. I’ve been commuting throughout the five boroughs for as long as I can remember and one of my earliest memories of travel is the sight of foggie subway windows and lurching ferry chains. It’s difficult to look at the place you grew up in and point out any changes the years have brought when everything you see is and has always been a part of your everyday life in some way. However, the truth is unless you’re a New Yorker and have grown up watching the buildings climb higher each year you really wouldn’t notice any changes in the skyline or it’s people. That is unless you took a closer look.
What I remember of New York City from my childhood is very different from what I know to be New York City today. In one way or another I have watched this metropolis grow just like I have grown into adulthood, height being no exception. Being a kid means looking upwards. Tall buildings looked as if they were licking the clouds and every single thing you picked up seemed as if it could drag you down to the ground. With smaller steps streets felt longer, crowds looked bigger and every noise sounded louder.
Every year on the first of October I was pulled into a ugly bright blue t-shirt with the logo of my polish school stamped across its front. My mom would lock the house down for the day and a quick drive to Brooklyn would have me soon standing on the overheating subway platform. Even though it was the beginning of fall I was pelted with sweat and sights that weren’t so pretty. There were dirty old tiles hanging off the walls causing most murals to lack colors and the not so little subway pets that called the dark tunnels their home. It was easy to say that the outside was nothing compared to the inside.
On the streets people walked like fish in the sea. Fast paced and quick on their feet. Being young, I looked up to the sky to find the buildings towering over me. Everything being so big made me not only feel but look even smaller. I always thought that if I grew up faster the buildings would come to look less intimidating. With my childish logic I though that as I got taller the buildings would get smaller.
I did get taller, I did gain more experience and the city that I knew grew a bit smaller. But for every part of the city I conquered a new part broke through the ice to be discovered. Being older I began to pay attention to things that I normally didn’t as a child. With different eyes I saw that the city harbored a vast amount of cafes, classic local restaurants, bars, vintage stores and even diners. Although I wasn’t aware of it earlier, now I find them at every corner and with vibrant LED’s flashing in the windows and doors wide open to welcome everyone and anyone from the streets.
Welcoming. That is one word to describe most of the population in New York. When I was younger I didn’t register the variety of people that passed through the city or in some way ended up calling my home their home as well. Today you won’t find english as the one and only language spoken in the masses in the streets. That’s because New York is simply a huge melting pot of cultures and languages that has found a way to thrive all together in one place.
It’s because of the cities acceptance to so many nationalities that I would find myself at the Polish Parade every year. At first it was just walking with my school in that awfully colored blue shirt but now as I have opened myself up to my families roots I come back to the parade as a polish scout. When I walk down Fifth Ave it’s an amazing scene to see. People file along the barriers eagerly to see what’s going on while I watch my feet take one step at a time. I’ll watch my white sock clad feet all the way to the end of the parade.
It’s when the music fades and the intense chatters start to die down that I’ll lead the way back to the subway with my family trailing behind me. Years later most stations are still falling apart while others have been brought back to shape with brilliant white walls and AC that could clearly be felt on your skin. Artificial air isn’t the only fresh breeze that can be part of a commute. The grumbling and rush of salty water can easily be heard on the Staten Island Ferry. After long days in the city my favorite thing to do had been and to this day still is to watch the coastline thin in the distance as the boat pulls away.
New York City was given the nickname “the city that never sleeps” a long time ago. No matter where you are or at what time of the night you’re stepping out onto the streets the city will still be buzzing with some life. Therefore I’ve noticed that as I grew through life the city grew with me because this time I’m the one sitting behind the wheel and opening the white wooden door of my house.
