The last time I was in the City for any time I was 11 years old. My mom roomed with an exchange student from Finland when she was in college, and they came up with the idea to swap kids. So in 1965 I took my first plane trip with my father to New York City, on my second visit to the City. He was working a packaging show, so he gave me some money and subway tokens, and sent me off to spend an entire day at the American Museum of Natural History. I remember the dinosaurs, of course, but other highlights in my recollection included the Star of India, the Hall of Mammals (the one with the elephant herd) and an exhibit showing giant models of fireflies, termites and ants. The next day my dad took me to Kennedy early in the morning and left me to catch my flight to Finland. I flew Pan Am alone, met my host family and spent 6 weeks there. On the return, their son Toni and I traveled together and arrived in New York in time to be stuck in the City again for two days due to an airline strike. We flew back on the Swiss Air Service, who found us a room in the Bowery YMCA, but we were otherwise on our own. Times were truly different then, and it was safe for two pre-teens to wander the city. Since I had been to New York before, I acted as tour guide to Toni. We took the subway to the Battery and visited the Statue of Liberty, Chinatown, toured the U.N., ate at the Automat, and dodged drunks in the street on the way back to the Y. The subway cost a dime then. Coincidentally, Vicki had similar experiences in the City at the same age. She and her brother Howie had the run of the City while their parents were learning Spanish at Berlitz, preparing to move to her fathers’ new job in South Americal.

We’re now on the plane to Fort Myers, Florida after spending 3 days in New York with Leah. Sunday was catchuponsleep; then Vicki baked cookies all day for the Recital Monday, and I cleaned, gassed and washed Leah’s car. Then Monday she played her Master’s Recital at noon, a program featuring Mozart, Schnitke, Brahms and a modern quartet including a bassoon instead of a 2nd violin. This was held in the local Unitarian church, with a lunch-hour audience consisting mostly of her coworkers from the SUNY Stonybrook Admissions office. We repaired back to the office afterwards, and fed the staff with 12 feet of New York submarine sandwiches, the cookies, veggies and other goodies. We are so proud of her organized, mature approach to life. Her coworkers had tons of praise for her work habits, and Leah’s playing has become outwardly relaxed and confident (although she says it is still very stressful inside). One of the joys of parenting is having one’s child grow up and not need you anymore. This certainly makes it easier to fly to the opposite side of the planet- we both know they would be okay if anything were to happen to us.

Yesterday the three of us took the early morning train into the City. Living so long in “flyover” country, the Midwest, I am very impressed by the sheer size of New York. The millions of people are a huge contrast to Iowa, not to mention the amount of infrastructure. I look out the train window and think, “someone built all of this brick by brick, rivet by bolt by shovelful of dirt”. And walking down the street or riding in the subway I wonder about the life stories of the people. Here are the nannies- African-Americans, Asians and Hispanics pushing the strollers down the street of Central Park West in the crisp early morning light. A crowd of elementary kids play basketball in a fence schoolyard. Businessmen plug in their i-Pods and listen to ..what? I wonder… while riding the subway and reading the sports section. Two guys walk down the street behind us arguing about the Knicks coaching. A Korean women cuts me off as she heads into a posh store, her face so beautiful I am stunned for a few moments after it flashes by me. Old men sit in the winter sunshine on this unseasonably warm afternoon in Central Park, feeding the pigeons. Two little girls are sitting on the steps of a Brownstone at dusk on the Upper East side, running a hot chocolate stand, for $1.50 a cup…

My senses are not swamped by the tall buildings nor the flashing lights nor the noise- I am not the stereotypical Iowa rube, walking the pavement, staring upwards, exclaiming “Golly will ya look at that, Wilma!”. But thinking about all these life stories, not to mention the medical histories boggles my mind.

We spent the morning at the American Museum of Natural History. This was Leah’s idea, after hearing my stories for so many years. And I have to say there was no disappointment. The exhibits have all been redone. As the guard in the Minerals exhibit said to me while we where chatting in front of the Star of India, “When they remodel here, they do everythin’ perfect!”. I was pleased to note that the entire museum reflects current thinking in cosmology and evolution. For example, the dugongs and manatees are included in the exhibit next to the mastodon and elephant skeletons. The birds begin at the end of the dinosaur skeletons, with a discussion about whether or not dinosaurs may have been warm blooded. And the Rose Space center has a wonderful exhibit displaying the scale of the universe, with visual models that provide an excellent sense of the Powers of Ten, from the level of the quark to the size of the entire universe.

Art history buff that she is, Leah’s plan included an afternoon at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Vicki had visited it during her childhood ramblings, but I had never been here. We enjoyed the Rodin sculptures, the Moderrn art, the Medieval “Angels” Christmas tree, and the Egyptian artifacts. One could become lost in the Egyptian wing, there are so many galleries and artifacts. I had to ask for help to find the famous blue hippo, who is much smaller than I had imagined from the pictures in the annual holiday catalog.

We finished the day by meeting my niece, Karen for dinner at an Asian/fusion restaurant, “Spice”. She is in her second year working in the city as a marketing assistant, and obviously loves it.

Overall the last few days have been a cold slap in the face to my Midwest provincialism. This is a huge, complex, overpopulated City. There is more to History than the settling of Iowa in the 19th Century. It is easy living in the Midwest to forget the larger picture. Yet there is a gritty, hard-working vitality to New York that I admire. It is so alive. It is so changeable. I can understand the attraction it holds for Leah and Karen.

(Pictures for this posting are in this Picasa Web Album. )