Old Friends, Older Places, New Experiences

Dear Reader,

I have been marveling lately at how seemingly little progress I have made in my life in the past 51 years. At the least, I suppose I should be happy I'm alive, and leave it at that.

But, I look around me, and I see little or no movement in many areas, while other people's lives are progressing and changing, sometimes on a daily basis.

I have several long-term relationships, many of which have been continuous over years and decades, and some which have been periodic. The woman I work with has been a friend and colleague for nearly 30 years. I have another friend who cares for my cats, and whose progress I've watched for the last 30 years as well; we went to college together. I've recently reconnected with another old college friend, and have had other acquaintances and colleagues with whom I've been in touch for years. I frequently seem to run into folks I've known, then fallen out of touch with. Sometimes these circumstances are completely accidental, sometimes they are the results of outside events.

Recently, I met up with a former client. Her small company, which she essentially started out of her bedroom, was being sold to an investor for a lot of money. I was one of the first people to work with her early in the process, so I was invited to a party celebrating the sale. Fortuitously, the event took place on the Lower East Side, an area of NYC I lived in, yes, nearly 30 years ago. Actually, I lived there for a year, from 1980 to 1981. I then moved in to my current apartment, where I've lived for the past 26 years (!).

In any case, after meeting and greeting, I decided to take a walk around the "Old Neighborhood." I had been down there on occasion since moving to the Upper West Side, but usually always with time constraints; client meetings, other scheduling. This particular evening after the party, I had nothing on the schedule. So, I walked around St. Mark's Place, where, 27 years ago, I would go with my then-boyfriend to the Grassroots Tavern after work, and have a few. It was there, on the steps of a brownstone, that my second cat Buddy, a beautiful Siamese, was acquired. It was there that I got purple dye for my hair, but I only had the nerve to color the tips and sides. In walking around the other night, I finally found the Grassroots again! I had missed it on previous visits and no wonder: the exterior is as nondescript as it can get, but the interior was just the same as it was all those years ago. The bar was the same, the tin ceiling, wooden floor, old tables and benches. The beer list was a little upgraded, with some imports, but the icky popcorn machine was still there, too. I was amazed and grateful that the place had changed so little.

I contemplated how long I've lived in the City; how well I know some of the neighborhoods; how long I've lived in my apartment on the Upper West Side, and how long I would continue to live there. Probably several more years; I'm not ready to leave the City yet. And, in keeping with that mind-set, I got a new hole pierced in my right ear. My first ear-piercings occurred back in college, as part of a pact. This was the first new piercing in 32 years; along with last year's tattoo (more to come there, too!), I finally have the nerve to make these kinds of changes to my body. I've wanted a new hole (in my ear) for years; so many earrings, so little space!

Where else could someone my age go into a "Piercing/Tattoo Emporium," be treated totally respectfully, show off my tattoo (and have it praised, sincerely) and get a pain-free piercing for 16 bucks? I LOVE New York!

More to Come,
Catbird