You鈥檝e all heard it. No doubt, you have. New York is just different. We鈥檙e a special breed. It鈥檚 the Big Apple, Madison Square Garden, (fucking) pizza. It鈥檚 the subway, the cabs, and the honking melody that buzzes behind daily life鈥攏ot a soundtrack of anger or anything like that, but just the hum of people needing to get where they have to be and the impatient men and women leading that charge. It鈥檚 just New York. You don鈥檛 know it until you come here, and if you leave, it鈥檚 because you can鈥檛 handle it. But that鈥檚 OK, because it鈥檚 New York. And not everyone can be a New Yorker.
I was born on Long Island, spent four partial-years in Massachusetts for college, then lived in Brooklyn before moving out to Santa Fe in July. So, by whatever definition you go by, I鈥檓 a New Yorker鈥攁nd fuck you if you say otherwise. (See?) And, honestly, I hate the way we talk about ourselves because it makes us sound like a bunch of assholes.
New York is great. It鈥檚 home, and I love it. But everyone鈥檚 different for all the reasons that make anyone uniquely human. Santa Fe is not New York. That鈥檚 obvious when you look up and see a mountain, then look down and see an old couple emerging from the woods without a walker. It鈥檚 obvious when all of your food is green, red, or Christmas. It鈥檚 obvious when you breathe. It鈥檚 obvious everywhere. But people live here because it鈥檚 what they want, it matches up with who they are, it makes them happy鈥攚hich, happiness. Giving and getting it: the point of being alive, right? And you find that in your own way, put yourselves in whatever conditions you need to be in for that to happen. Believe it or not, that doesn鈥檛 include New York for, well, the majority of society.
We鈥檙e not better; we are different. But everywhere is, isn鈥檛 it?
NEW YORK WILL BE forever-different next time I go back, once the water from Sandy gets pumped out and dries up, once the sand鈥檚 pushed back to the beach on the Islands, once the salt-and-wetness damage is done and the subways re-start that always-moving tangle we all take for granted, once it gets itself out of it鈥檚 own way鈥攑icking scabs that have to leave a scar鈥攁nd starts to look like the place I knew when I left.聽
I鈥檝e watched it all happen. Updating out site by the minute for the first two days, dialing it back but still going from then on. And I feel like I鈥檓 watching myself go through it all. Out of body experiences happen to some people, I guess? I don鈥檛 know, but it鈥檚 kind of like watching yourself get punched in the face鈥攅xcept you don鈥檛 feel a thing, you鈥檙e just really angry because some asshole just hit you in the mouth. And then you鈥檙e guilty you couldn鈥檛 take the punch鈥攅ven though you should probably shut up and be happy you can open your mouth without wincing.
And that鈥檚 how it feels, covering the storm-of-all-time as it hits and thrashes and forever changes the place that鈥檚 always been home. I鈥檓 in my office looking out to the courtyard with the red-green-and-yellow leaves against the mandated adobe walls鈥攖here鈥檚 fall here, too鈥攑osting photos of the crane on 57th Street dangling over the city, looking at the West Village under goddamn water, seeing that tree crush the shed in my parents鈥欌攁nd 尘测鈥backyard, lucky one closer to the house didn鈥檛 fall but still staring at it all, knowing the picture on the screen isn鈥檛 fake, but never coming any closer than clicking command-plus and zooming in, which only blurs it even more. The closer you try to get to it, the realer it is that you鈥檙e not there.聽
I鈥檓 not, and I can鈥檛 not feel like I should be鈥攁t the same time knowing this shit is real and that I鈥檓 lucky to be out of the way of falling trees, electrified water, and the rotting food that I鈥檓 sure my mom and cousin and friends and everyone else I know forgot to throw out.聽
None of this is fair鈥攊t鈥檚 an inherently stupid idea anyway, fair, that certain things should happen, and it鈥檚 maybe pointless to even think about it all like that, but it鈥檚 also impossible not to.
AND YET, THE CITY is still standing, with a tragic number of people dead, but a number way lower than what could鈥檝e been. Long Island鈥檚 still there, too, somehow back to a steady creep despite the number of people with electricity amounting to just a couple of full-finger hands. My parents are fine; no one鈥檚 hurt. And so is the rest of my family. One of my closest friends is back home for med school, and he鈥檚 OK鈥攁long with his family and everyone else I grew up with. My cousin and most of my friends in Manhattan can鈥檛 use their phones because cell service is down and their computers don鈥檛 work because you need electricity for the Internet and what鈥檚 a computer without that? My old neighborhood in Brooklyn couldn鈥檛 make it through a West Indian Parade without anyone dying, but they seemed to weather鈥攎an, terrible pun鈥擲andy without any deaths. Things are totally and currently fucked, for sure. From Montauk to Midtown East and West, but it鈥檚 all still hanging on, promising for a come back just from the sheer fact that it鈥檚 still there. That it鈥檚 New York.
Could anywhere else still be standing鈥攄efinitely wobbling, but still up, ready for a return鈥攁fter something like Sandy clamped down on it, tossing the 鈥渇uck yous鈥 and 鈥済o to hells鈥 surely shouted from the ground as the water rose and wind got heavier right back on top of it? I don鈥檛 know鈥攁nd it doesn鈥檛 matter. New York, though, I do know.聽
Or I did. The place will be different. It has to be, both in case something like this ever happens again and because it just did. After 9-11, Colson Whitehead , 鈥淵ou are a New Yorker when what was there before is more real and solid than what is here now.鈥 Whether moving to Santa Fe right before a hurricane made me into a True New Yorker isn鈥檛 the point, but what was real and solid to me鈥攖he place I left and hoped to return to soon鈥攑robably isn鈥檛 there anymore.
鈥淥ne day the city we built will be gone,鈥 Whitehead writes, 鈥渁nd when it goes, we do.鈥 And I鈥檝e gone鈥攊t鈥檚 clear and 60 and sunny where I am, the only water coming from machines and sinks and refrigerators. Each photo, each tweet, every update I clicked and published helped me see the city and state I鈥檇 left, let me know that it was still there, but that I wasn鈥檛. Despite the storm and despite all the reasons for things to change, New York keeps going on without me. Those assholes.