My Neighborhood

New York

Yesterday, as I was doing errands in my neighborhood, I realized that I've had my apartment on the Upper West Side of Manhattan for four years. While I had worked in New York in the 1980s, I commuted to suburban Philadelphia. So, I really didn't know about the day-to-day elements of urban living.

From the beginning, I loved the location of my place, facing Central Park, but I didn't really know anything about the neighborhood--or the fascinating world of my micro-neighborhood, my building, with 200+ families.

I remember that first Fall. I didn't know where to buy toothpaste, where to find the best bagel, the best fresh fish, the best produce, the best wine store. Those first months, I would drag bags of supplies back to my place, my arms aching,
and find somewhere to put all of it in limited space. I mused about the concept of vertical living, of living in small, defined spaces and sharing extraordinary public space and oppurtunity--Central Park, Lincoln Center, Broadway, Battery Park et al.

I have my favorite places now. Citarella's for the best fish and poultry, H & H for sesame bagels,Mr. Zingone, my Italian grocer who has everything I need ( and he delivers in an instant ), West Park Pharmacy for little extras like bubble bath and my favorite shampoo. Columbus Bakery for a cozy cup of chamomile tea, a softball-sized black out cookie, or rare roast beef sandwich on dark wheat bread, Mr. Belew's tiny print shop across from the post office for faxes or any printing needs I have, with the careful, personal attention of Mr. Belew himself. And, of course, the Lincoln Plaza Cinema, an art film movie house burrowed below ground across from Lincoln Center.

I love walking in my neighborhood along the uneven sidewalks, admiring the brownstones like the one above. The brownstones were the hallmark of the Upper West Side when it was new a century ago, and they are, to me, beautiful in their diversity, their individuality.

I haven't been by the neighborhood firehouse for a couple of months since I took my grandson, Ethan, there to see the fire truck. That day, the firemen were outside, and generously let Ethan stand on the running board of the engine and put on a firefighter's helmet. There was a small makeshift grotto to a fallen firefighter at Ground Zero, Ruben "Dave" Correa, on the far corner of the firehouse.

When I went by yesterday, I noticed the grotto to Ruben the firefighter, had fresh flowers--and was larger than before. Ruben looked to be about 30 years old from his picture. In honor of the fifth anniversary of 9/11, the firehouse had a votive lamp burning, and garlands of carnations, daisies, roses flanking the photo of the hero of Engine Company 74. Even the fire engine is dedicated to Ruben, his name 10 inches high along the side of the truck, clearly visible when I see the engine scream down Columbus Avenue on the way to a fire.

So, this is my neighborhood...on a crisp September day.

M.C.