4,600 miles driving, 200 miles Amtracking, 8 cities touring, innumerable Port-O-Potty pit stopping (one is quite frankly enough)…It’s hard to find the words or the energy to put the words together after a trip like this. So, today’s post will be shorter than most with multiple deep dives coming your way over the next several weeks. And, instead of starting from the beginning, I will start from the middle and tell you my New York story, both past and present in hopes of providing narrative framing for our current and historical economic realities.
How does a girl from Grenada, MS end up in living in what many consider the greatest city in the world? Despite MS often being cited as one of the worst in terms of education and poverty (#1), I count myself lucky to have been classically educated in its public schools. Studying Latin was mandatory, and the gifted studies programs taught problem-solving and critical thinking above all else. In a recent visit to MS, I caught up with a childhood friend who teaches today, and we marveled at how well we were educated in the things that matter and how different that is now.
As an avid reader I was elated when I found out my 6th grade LEAP class - as well as other grades - would be taking a train trip to New York City. The trip would include stops in Chicago and New Orleans, but nothing compared to my excitement over being able to visit New York. Of all the fictional characters I loved, Jo (the writer), from Little Women, who spent time living in New York, resonated with me most. Although my family was barely making ends meet at the time, trying to recover from foreclosure and divorce, I was adamant that my sister and I would be able to go. I took a job dishwashing at my grandfather’s restaurant after school and on the weekends, often closing and not getting home until after 11pm on a school night. I spent many a night sweating, the steam from the dishwasher overpowering me as I opened the shiny silver door between each cycle. I can conjure the smell of the disinfectant we used to clean the floors even now and the pink, Sysco dishwashing soap, as well as the sinking feeling when a server brought another busload of dishes just as I thought I was done for the night.
Expressions of affirmation, love or acceptance were not a staple in my family, but a job well done earned a silent nod of approval. I learned hard work in a tiny corner of that restaurant, standing on a smelly floor mat. And, it all seemed worth it the first time I stared down from my hotel room in midtown Manhattan at a sea of yellow cabs in congested streets, the likes of which I had never experienced. Silently I promised myself I would someday live in this strange city where you could walk anonymously amongst the fashionistas and freaks, worrying less about where you fit in, being able to look up at the tall buildings versus down in shame over your story against the backdrop of small-town America.
When I arrived in New York officially to attend graduate school, it was 1996. Unlike most of my fellow students I did not have parents who could afford to subsidize me, so work I must and this is how I landed at Dow Jones, The Wall Street Journal. I started as a temp on the executive floor and soon became a floor favorite as I was the only one who knew how to work the Microsoft products that had recently replaced their old Dowcorp system. I was privileged to watch events such as the Asian Tiger crisis, tech boom and Operation China Cozy unfold, organizing editorial meetings with Kofi Annan, Lee Kuan Yew and other luminaries and an overnight trip on the Concord for my boss and her husband to scoop a coveted interview with Jiang Zemin.
And, similar to that fateful October 2006 “celebration” where I witnessed Enron-style arrogance and mania as my company, a subprime lender, celebrated its banner year, I observed everyone on the editorial floor at the WSJ sport hats and T-shirts that said “Dow 10,000” as they cheered the markets on each day at the closing bell. We know how both those stories ended.
My second stint in New York came when I moved back to NYC in August 2001 after leaving a doctoral program. My mind needs constant challenges and deciding which cheap wine to drink at yet another reading or lecture while appearing self-satisfied was just not for me. Like most of us in our 20s I was an arrogant little a*hole who never fully appreciated the opportunities I had, leaving them sooner than I should and this is what I realized about leaving New York the first time. I have never once though regretted leaving that doctoral program.
One short month after arriving back in the city I loved, life there changed drastically. On this latest trip to NYC I was reminded of that fateful day because it was the last time I saw the streets so deserted.
According to a recent 60 Minutes special there is more than “95 million square feet of New York City office space” which “is currently unoccupied –the equivalent of 30 Empire State Buildings.” Striking at NYC in 2001 was striking at the heart of America and in many respects the financial capital of the world. 30 empty Empire State Buildings - what did I see on this last trip and what does the current state of New York mean for what’s ahead?
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