Twenty years ago this past week, I started the drive to move
to New York City. I hadn’t lived here since I was a baby though I grew up
visiting frequently. Both my parents were raised in the five boroughs and I
felt that my life’s dreams were big and grandiose enough that it justified
entering the crucible of the Big Apple.
My friend Matt helped me pack all of my worldly possessions
into a small rental truck and I began the 900 mile journey from suburban
Atlanta back to the city of my birth. I stopped in the Washington D.C. area
that night at the home of my friends Ryan and Scott and set out early the next
day to finish the trip. I remember being shocked at having to pay $8 for the
honor of crossing the George Washington Bridge (a moving truck crossing the GWB
today would pay a $34 toll off-peak) and drove up to Westchester to my mother’s
house. The fall leaves were gorgeous and I felt like I was home.
My directions were mailed to me by AAA and included maps
with highlighted sections on it. The moving truck didn’t have a tape deck so I
brought along a boom box and listened to lots of cassette tapes on my way. I
got off the highway in a rural part of North Carolina to tell my friends how
far away I was and to get the score of the Georgia – Florida game (Georgia won
in 1997: a promising omen).
I arrived here with dreams of being a famous writer. I have
not achieved the literary fame and fortune I set out to make here in the city
but I’m still here, still keeping that dream alive in some way. With this
column I have one thing that every writer needs the most: a deadline.
I’ve had the honor to indulge other creative urges as well:
I took up music and went farther with it than I ever thought I could and miss
playing punk rock regularly. I’ve also had a hand in some comedy that has been
well received. I can lead somewhat of a double or triple life sometimes. One
hour of the day I may be laying out a media plan for promoting a financial
product, hours later I may be playing bass while people careen into one another
in an orgy of music, sweat and beer; it’s amazing.
I can honestly look back on the last two decades and be
proud of where I am in life. I’ve got a great wife and children and lots of
excellent friends. The biggest lie I could tell you would be that I got here
completely on my own. If it weren’t for family and friends, I would not have
anywhere near the good life I have today. I’m sure there are people in this
city who arrived completely broke and alone and pulled themselves up with no
one’s help; I’m not one of them.
The city and the world are much different places than when I
came back to New York in 1997. Two decades from now they will be different still.
We’re at a very volatile time in our history relative to where we were 20 years
ago.
One thing that is also different is that I still have a
tremendous amount to be thankful for. Moving to New York was a homecoming of a
sort but also a very new beginning in a city that I had never known as a
resident.
Thank you all for being part of this great adventure with
me. I promise the next 20 years will be just as great.
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