It is the city of my ancestors, the city of my imagination, the city of my dreams and the city that owns my heart.I have been hopelessly in love with her for as long as I have been alive. As a direct descendant of the Ganos, Osbornes, Usselttons and other first families of New York, Long Island and New Jersey, I feel a deep personal kinship with this resplendent jewel of a place that transcends space and time. Its no wonder that there have been volumes written about her. This wonderful piece on Brain Pickings highlights a sliver of them. My favorite quote of this grouping comes from Anaïs Nin :
I’m in love with N.Y. It matches my mood. I’m not overwhelmed. It is the suitable scene for my ever ever heightened life. I love the proportions, the amplitude, the brilliance, the polish, the solidity. I look up at Radio City insolently and love it. It is all great, and Babylonian. Broadway at night. Cellophane. The newness. The vitality. True, it is only physical. But it’s inspiring. Just bring your own contents, and you create a sparkle of the highest power. I’m not moved, not speechless. I stand straight, tough, and I meet the impact. I feel the glow and the dancing in everything. The radio music in the taxis, scientific magic, which can all be used lyrically. That’s my last word. Give New York to a poet. He can use it. It can be poetized. Or maybe that’s a mania of mine, to poetize. I live lightly, smoothly, actively, ears and eyes wide open, alert, oiled! I feel a kind of exhilaration and the tempo is like that of my blood. I’m at once beyond, over and in New York, tasting it fully .
I also especially love and I am in complete agreement with literary icon Joyce Carol Oates when she proclaims that NYC is “the only city” and when she ruminates
The undeniable attraction of that city: its pulse, atmosphere, people. (NYC is much maligned by the rest of the country out of resentment, one suspects. There is only one city in the United States and the others are envious.)