Street Identity


Oh Boy since coming to New York City in 1973 I have lived on many streets. None of them were good enough for people who asked whereabouts do you live?  So many people said come live with me, a girl like you should not live there.

That little bit comes from two places this weekend. The cab I take home from work always provides an opinionated cabdriver who doesn’t approve of my current address. They always inform me they don’t usually pickup for that address. I tell them if you would just use your GPS you’d have a beautiful ride.

Yep one street over could land you in an unretrievable jungle.

And then the other place is where I retrieved some gratitude.  I was taking an Urban Studies course online at MIT this weekend. It was something about we don’t really become human until we’ve experienced that which is strange to us, i.e. religion, race, poverty (rather economic status — as wealth is rather strange). Certainly New York City has provided a minefield of strange to experience in that regards. And surely I did not pass up on any such opportunities.

Lets put it this way, I at least will never be urban stranded.

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