It’s ChristmasTimeintheCity

Like standing on a dock ready to jump in—to the waters of the past yet being in the present—the last couple of days have been invigorating—creating new memories. When we were in the (very large, crowded) dim sum restaurant in Chinatown yesterday, around a (very large) round table seating all eight of us (Tamar, Dan, Damian, Jessica, Aaron, Myself, and Leah & Pedro—friends from when we lived in SoHo), Leah turned to me (after surveying the group) and said: “Now we are the old people!”

When we met first Leah and Pedro, Tamar, Aaron and I had moved into a rental loft in a co-op building on Spring Street. The neighborhood was still young—few shops, long walks to buy groceries, and some factories still functioning. And we (the “adults”) were still young—in our early thirties. After leaving my marriage and nine years in a (very) large apartment on West End Avenue, I had first moved with my two children, two cats, two fish tanks and lots of art supplies, to 13th and First Avenue—a sublet that had at one time been used as Claus Oldenburg’s studio. Patty Oldenburg lived next door with a big black cat. We moved in with two Siamese. A few months later we had nine black kittens. It was a fourth floor walkup (with high ceilings in the lofts) and I remember carrying bags of cat food up the (many) stairs for a few weeks. As well, the painter Larry Rivers lived upstairs. There was no insulation between the floors and when he came home at four in the morning, with friends, wearing cowboy boots, we were all awake. I got back at him by playing children’s records in the morning.

On Spring Street, my upstairs neighbors were also playful and I was curious. One day I met Leah in the elevator. She invited me to come up for coffee. From then on we were good friends. Besides the dinner and dance parties, trips to galleries and movies, Leah and I used to henna each other’s hair. There were six lively people and two dogs living in their loft at that time. I got my first dog, Miranda, while we lived there. Then we moved to Broome Street—a loft that became co-op and gave me the resources to move then to Nova Scotia.

So in the past couple of (very intense) days—seeing Manhattan from the point of the where we have lived and who we know there, we’ve visited some of the most important people in our lives here. Our first stop, on Wednesday, was Aaron’s best friend, Gillie, and her mother from when he was nine months old until we moved away from Manhattan. We met in Riverside Park and the children, even as young as they were, became good friends immediately. The two children went to Ireland together when they were nine. Gillie’s dad still lives there. We were all very close and helped each other in those early, painful post-divorce days. I have stayed with Harriet often over the past twenty plus years on my visits here. When we left, we poked our heads into the lobby of the building we had lived in on West End Avenue. It has become a co-op and been upgraded, enhanced. From there, my children visited with their father for a couple of hours while I visited a friend (whom I also met through Aaron when he was nine years old). Then we all gathered together again before returning to Montclair to get some sleep before beginning a second day of visiting the past.

Yesterday after enjoying the dim sum and the friends, we went to Leah and Pedro’s loft. They still live on Spring Street. Walking into the building was replete with memories for my children. I have stayed there too on my visits to NYC so I was aware of the changes—new elevator, nicely painted and restored lobby, beautiful front doors. On leaving, we also passed by where we lived on Broome Street, another place that has been upgraded. When we lived there, we had an antique elevator that serviced only our floor (the top) and held about two people and a dog, an intricate metal cage that operated by pull cords. It had caught on fire when being serviced and was removed after we left. Broome Street was still Boom Street to us—very noisy and possibly even more clogged with traffic to the Holland Tunnel.

Then we went for dinner with my sister’s son, Rob, who is now living and working in Manhattan. He’s two years and one day younger than Tamar. It is always a delight to get together with him. He’s working in an architectural firm and painting in his (hopefully more) free time. So we had a lot to talk about—family, work, travels.

And from there we returned from our trip down memory lane. Today we will be happy to stay here in Montclair.

Posted by leya at December 30, 2005 10:29 AM