Musings on Manhattan

It is Saturday evening and I just put down Friday’s New York Times. I picked it up on my way to work when I stopped for a hit of Starbuck’s coffee. I envied the folks in there sitting at their tables reading or chatting with each other. I truly miss my leisurely mornings in my Manhattan neighborhood café’s with coffee and the NYT. I left the paper in the car as I trudged into work, thinking I would read it at lunch. I finally get a chance to catch up and join the debate, at least to myself, whether the latest installation by Christo and Jean Claude in Central Park is truly art. Since you asked, I don’t know. I just know I enjoy the dialogue and the event. I wish I could be there. As someone pointed out, it’s truly an event when that much cloth and space does not a corporations logo on it!

That’s not to say I’m not enjoying where I am. Although I have sacrificed my mornings, I have gained the opportunity to meet many new people though work. I love my customers. Unfortunately, it’s the ones that don’t seem to earn me any commissions that I seem to enjoy to most. For example, one on my early customers was a massage therapist needing business cards. She was a phone customer who needed a little guidance on how she needed to present her credentials, etc. After speaking on the phone a couple of times, she eventually came in and we met in person. She works at a day spa and had lots of good information about the area to share with me. Last Sunday, while writing at the Bean Street Café, five women at a nearby table caught my attention. Their conversation was funny and interesting, but not gossipy. At one point I leaned forward and realized it was Rivkah, my customer – not a name easily forgotten. I said hi and I was instantly drawn into the group. Rivkah introduced me and told me they were having their monthly book club meeting. We all chatted for a little while and then I was asked to join them in reading their next book. We are reading the “Life of Pi.” They were so funny and lighthearted with each other, I am sure I will enjoy getting to know them a little better. One gave me her business card, and she is the person my boss has been telling me to contact at the Chamber of Commerce. How’s that for a coincidence?

Another example is the artist who came in to buy second sheets for her letterhead. It became a paper learning experience for us all. I won’t bore you with the details, but after numerous trips in and a couple of mis-orders, we finally got the right paper for her. As she walked in my office unannounced this last time, she said, “ remember me…” and I just automatically replied “ of course … my favorite artist…” We got the paper issue all straightened out and then got into a discussion of art and how she has been able to support herself with it compared to me, coping out and becoming a graphic designer instead. She invited me to her open house this weekend at her studio. I have invited my other new artist friend (who is opening her new gallery soon) to join me. I am so loving this! I feel as if I am being offered an opportunity to revisit something that was very important to me when I was younger but had to put aside in the interest of earning a living and supporting a child.

But that is part of what I asked for when I came here. Some of you already know this, but when I pack my car with the things I knew I would need for the first few months, the real luxury items I brought were my paintbrushes. I haven’t used them since my last oil painting done in 1976. I have stored them carefully and had them nearby – just in case. I left behind my guitar and most of my books – but for some reason, I felt the necessity to bring them. Maybe its just symbolic or maybe I will actually have a chance to use them, but I have them and they seem to be drawing to me people, or maybe I should say women, who can inspire and help me. How great is that? It’s a fair trade for the lazy mornings I spent in Starbucks, right?

Back at Bean Street

Finally, I’m back at the Bean Street Cafe. Bad weather stopped my search for a new home for the last two Saturdays. Instead of spending my Sunday mornings relaxing and reflecting, I’ve had to look for a new place to live. My one-month lease is up on Tuesday. I found the last place over the Internet and was reluctant to commit to more than a month. It turned out to be quite sweet but since it comes completely furnished, someone else booked it right after me. Unfortunately, lots of Yankees, Snowbirds and West Coasters are pilling in behind me. Obviously I forgot to shut the door!

I moved last night and today. I am amazed that I came here with one carload, but yet it took three carloads this time! I would like to make that my official Moving Gauge. Only own as much as you can move and organize in a day. The goal here is to own my stuff, not let my stuff own me. A girl needs to stay flexible and unencumbered.

I doubled my commute time to work in the move. I went from being 3 minutes away (by car – its really been too cold to ride my bike) to about 6 minutes away. The new place has a one-car garage and basement storage space underneath the Chalet so my bike stays out of the rain. Not that I will be riding it anytime soon. Please note I said “mountain,” not flat streets or roads. If I’m here in the spring, I’ll give it a go then.

Last night as I was driving down to the mall (and that’s an experience I really haven’t had too much of for the past 11 years. I assure you, I haven’t missed it!) On the left side of my car was an embankment with trees, leaves, and rocks. On the right side, looking down, are the lights of Tunnel Hill Road – grocery, gas, and shopping galore. Metaphorically, that’s Asheville. Residents enjoy closeness with Mother Earth along with a contemporary lifestyle. I am happy to think that as I drive to work down the other side of the mountain tomorrow morning, I’ll see the city buildings peeking out from a blanket of cool morning mist.

Some of you have been living this way for a while, perhaps all your life. Some of my musings are normal life for you, but for me, after 11 years in The City, this is amazing stuff. I am experiencing this through the eyes of a New Yorker, because I feel I was one. And some part of me will always be. Although a southern girl by birth, I acquired New York City “bragging rights” as my friend Brad Davis puts it. I’m glad I did it. And when I start thinking of Manhattan too fondly, I just remember how lonely and trapped I felt there toward the end. I get happy again very fast.

Perhaps I really notice the mountains and trees because I have something quite different to compare it to than some of you. Others may share with my experience, but interpreted it differently. I remember the drives to various places around NYC and being stuck sometimes for on I-95 or the Cross Bronx and seeing the harsh concrete and littered landscape. In every direction lay railway tracks, train cars, rusty industrial equipment, and decrepit old buildings, often with their windows smashed. Houses are sometimes squeezed into the concrete and steel topography. Or perhaps I would see nicer buildings, but always, of human construction using bricks, steel and concrete. The only natural thing I might see would be the Harlem River or the Sputen Duyvil. There too, man has left his dirty fingerprint in the form of rusty piers.

That of course doesn’t deny the beauty of Manhattan with the Hudson River Parkway and the amazing buildings. But even in my romance days with The City, I often bemoaned the fact that I could go for days or even weeks without my feet actually touching the real earth beneath me. I haven’t taken my shoes off in Asheville yet, but as soon as it gets warm enough, I assure you that I will.