Brooklyn.
The name of my hometown conjures images in people's minds that may be spun from movies, literature, personal visits, and anecdotes from friends and relatives.
Having lived in New York City for my entire life, I am (quite a bit) ashamed to admit that there are places in my hometown that I have never visited. Many tourists have seen the sights more than I have. For example, I've never visited Ellis Island, never been to a Yankees game, never visited the New York Botanical Garden, and have been to the top of the Empire State Building only once in my entire life (and that was because I accidentally got on the wrong elevator, meaning to go to the 10th floor, and taking an express elevator to the top instead).
I blame this partially on my own residency. Being born and raised here, I fear I became a bit jaded to the beauty of this city. While I often spent my teenaged years hanging out on the Brooklyn Bridge with my friends, and my husband and I often spent romantic afternoons in Prospect Park or strolling along Brooklyn Heights and the South Street Seaport, I truly began to see the true beauty of my hometown through the eyes of my own children.
I spent my four years of college in Ithaca, New York, at Cornell University. I fell in love with the stunning waterfalls and gorges and the indescribably stunning landscapes that the Finger Lakes offered. I told my friends that I got to walk past a waterfall everyday as I walked to class what wasn't there to love? And yet, with all of this, many students who were also from New York City talked about how much we realized that we missed home. We quickly learned that it seemed to be a common symptom of the native New Yorkers, not having seen New York for its signatures sights and sounds. Yeah, sure who hasn't been to Times Square? But how about at New Year's Eve? Sure, we've seen the Statue of Liberty but did we actually visit her? How about visiting other boroughs? So many of us had barely stepped foot outside of our own comfortable haven of our individual boroughs. The more we talked, the more homesick we became, and the more we realized that we needed to visit home and really see it.
As a child, my older sister and my mom tried to keep me as culturally educated about my hometown as possible. I once visited the Guggenheim and the Museum of Natural History. I boarded the ships and was impressed by their sails at the South Street Seaport. And I remember loving every moment of it. So, what happened? I became so engulfed in traveling to and fro, work, school, and so on, that I hadn't stopped to realize that my hometown was more than simply functional it was truly beautiful. So I stopped to really listen to the musicians that perform underground as I waited for the subway. I stopped to really see the mosaic tiles that line the subway platform walls. I stopped to read the historical plaques that mark so many streets, trees, and buildings, so I became a student of my own birthplace. I even marvel at those curious pigeons and squirrels that come right up to you, wondering why you are taking so long to give them a morsel to eat.
And now, it is my turn to encourage my children to do the same. My children look at me with blank faces when I mention some places that our city is known for, and my husband and I feel completely responsible for that (he has probably visited only one more sight than I have). So I pour over magazines and newspapers and websites, learning more about my hometown than ever. I will become the native tourist, and break free from the stigma of being culturally ignorant of my hometown. So far, it's been walking tours of Chinatown, Little Italy, and Greenwich Village. It's meant visits to the Central Park and Bronx Zoos. It's meant day trips to the other boroughs, and learning that there is so much more to learn.
Tomorrow? I think I will terrify myself on a ride on the Cyclone.