Life changing events

I’ve been missing for a few days because I went on a short jaunt to New York City.  It was a life changing event for me. While I’ve been living in the quiet of Dayton, Ohio for just over fifteen years, the noise, the chaos and the realizations made in “the big apple” couldn’t have inspired me more to wake up and smell the coffee. At age fifty-two you might find it surprising that one would be taking the very first vacation of ones’ life totally “alone;” but it was the best thing that has happened to me in a very long time.

In life we tend to get on a soapbox and stay on that soapbox because nothing ever happens to us to change our thinking. The older we get the more likely we are to suspend the possibilities that things might be different than we think they are. As we enjoy the fruits of our intellectual understandings as life flows on; we rarely experience such an awakening within the comfort of our normalcy. It’s also surprising that one doesn’t have to leave the comfort of our United States of America to experience a life altering communication of such grandiose proportions.

First of all, traveling in true American style, upon a Greyhound bus I must say that within the rows of the royal blue seats a very diverse population was seated. One could either close their eyes and sleep through the many hours of traveling, (16 1/2 hours for me) or stay alert to take in the cross section of Americans all as different as different can be. In the true sense of the words,”diverse population,” there were young, old – rich and poor – educated and uneducated – mannered and ill-mannered as well as inspired and uninspired. It’s a shame I had only two ears to take in the banter that was exchanged within the cabin of the vessle. I chose to partake in every possible conversation and to listen raptly to the stories of others parlayed in the truth of the American spirit. Arriving into the city at night, the spotlight that shone from Ground Zero delivered more than prayers so close to the anniversary of September Eleventh, a solemn hush came over the entire audience inside the bus as we all imagined the events of that tragic day.  

New York City was enlightening for sure. If you haven’t been there before you must find the time and the money to experience it. It will change your life as well if you remain open and aware of as much as you can manage. Every view offered much more than I could contain, but the challenge was inspiring. I injured my leg six years ago which causes me to have to sit and rest after about five minutes of walking. This was a challenge in the city and being totally alone and vulnerable I found it almost impossible to concentrate on any one thing. So as I began on Twenty-eighth Street and walked toward Rockefeller Center, my senses began to expand as I heard, touched, tasted, smelled and viewed short experiences like none other.

People, I’ve never seen such a flow of large numbers of people. It never stopped and it seemed as if there were never the same faces although the spirits contained within were similar. As strong and sure as the stride, these individuals were as equally vulnerable and frightened within. I found those within a group to be the loneliest and those who were truly the most demure and diminuitive appeared to be larger than life in appearance. Who were the true New Yorkers I queried. As I rested I talked to those on both sides to compare the convictions of those who lived within the city to those who only borrowed the city for a moment in time. Their words amazed me and changed me.

So many truths and so little denial.  The true New Yorkers are real.  Whether a New Yorker through birth or through spirit they remained true to who they knew they were and remained diligent in defense of their own selves and of their own country. Where else can you be reminded of what this country is made of in every second of the day? Where else can you hear so many different languages being spoken at one time? Where else can such colorful faces be grown from pavement and concrete buildings? Where else does dignity and integrity lie so silent beneath the honking of taxis, the screeching of tires and the reving of engines – a never ending level of intense noise? Where else do original structures remain well kept and new modern architecture mix so evenly?

In each view there lies a story. Blink your eyes and the story changes although it’s outline remains the same. Each proving the strength and weaknesses of a country as well as the strength and weaknesses of the human being as an individual. Throughout the next week I’ll write some stories of special interest in what I learned and absorbed by being in the “big apple.” I loved it and I didn’t spend enough time there. It is beckoning to me to come back; I can hear it clearly. Just as I can still hear the honking taxis and the voices of the people; I can hear the city saying – “Come back … we need you.”

Finally, leaving on September Eleventh the anniversary, I was cold, wet and determined to meet the conquests of nature, of man and of remembering those who lost their lives and how changed the city was on that day. I grabbed my umbrella as I watched other umbrellas turning inside out and being cast out on the sidewalks. They didn’t remain there long as someone came to sweep up the trash and dispose of it leaving the sidewalk free for the strides of its public. My suitcase fell over into a puddle as I threw my arm out to hail a taxi. A young man said, “Ma’am, your suitcase!” as he picked it up for me and went on his way; I called out, “Thank you!” He never looked back, but a taxi pulled up at that very moment. I opened the door and threw the wet suitcase into the seat that was already soaked in rain water. I listened to the small television on the back of the front seat as the names were called out, the names of those who died that day, September Eleventh, 2001.  “Port Authority bus station please.” I spoke out to the cab driver. I felt closer to them all in that moment after only three days and four nights in the city. I felt closer to them than I did to the people in my own city of fifteen years.