Beotch from da Burbs

A former Midtown Kinda Gal, I fell in love and moved to Westchester...go figure! So now, I'm a burb-y kinda kommuter beotch...well sorta...See, I ride a BMW motorcycle, am a jamband lovin’ musician, playing music with my friends (and my lover, James), all the while shuddering at the double dichotomy (and proliferation) of karaoke bars and pricey malls. Ehhh…at least the rent’s cheaper now.

12/05/2005

New York

I used to live in the Bronx…well, sorta.

Whizzing along today, about as fast as you can go on the commuter train, coming into the City from points north and as the train slowed down somewhere around the Harlem River, I looked out the window to my right just in time to see the looming presence of The Projects.

As the child of a career Military serviceman, life wasn’t always easy as I was never really ‘from’ anywhere. However, when I finally grasped the concept of actually being born in New York (as in X marks the spot), I was wildly ecstatic over the fact I was from some place that featured the Capital of the World! Well, okay, I was really born in Highland Falls, New York but still, it was New York to me and close enough to New York City to count as being ‘from here’. So, the imaginative kinda kid I was (uh…well...hasn’t changed much!), I’d fabricate elaborate stories about where I was from and ‘share’ with the yokels I’d meet whenever my father was transferred to a new location. Hey, in another year or so, it really wouldn’t matter who I was or where I was from to those I’d leave behind when my father was again reassigned to a new place. And in my child's mind, I'd just be 'that cool kid from New York City', who everyone would fondly remember.

I seem to recall the 'story' went, I was from the Bronx and we’d formerly lived on 42nd Street. Which, in reality, doesn’t make any sense to anyone who’s been to the City. But hey, I was a storytellin’ little kid and of course, the New Hicks On the Block didn’t know the difference…generally…and I was simply lucky I didn’t actually run into anyone who’d actually lived in the City. This seemed to work well…until I was 12 when I was fully busted by a skinny, geeky little kid whose father was from Brooklyn: Bernard Ehrenstein. It’s funny how I still remember his name. ‘Course, if I’d REALLY known anything about the City, it would have made sense.

Fortunately, within 3 months, my father was stationed at a new Air Force Base: Chateauroux, France. And somehow, that seemed like a much better place to be from than the Bronx.

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

<< Home