New York on my mind …

I’ve just finished reading a story in the New York Times about a new restaurant that just opened (or is in the process of a slow-opening) on my old street in the West Village of Manhattan. Graydon Carter, the editor of Vanity Fair is one of the owners. The restaurant is Ye Old Waverly Inn – a local institution for ages. It’s a low-ceilinged spot with a rabbit warren-like feel, lots of small rooms with fireplaces, all warm and cozy and a perfect spot to spend a New York winter night. I remember when Mr. Carter moved into the brownstone across the street from me. He sat out on the front stoop most mornings, reading his paper and drinking coffee. I suppose the workers were still putting the finishing touches on his new home because by the second year one didn’t see him sitting out on the stoop as often. He probably bought the restaurant because he wanted small intimate spot (other than his dining room) in which to hang out with friends and snack on $16 hamburgers. In all honesty, if I still lived on the block and had the extra $50 in my pocket (for a beer or two with that burger) I would probably be sitting there tonight. Instead I’m here, a few thousand miles away, not having had a hamburger (of the $16 variety or any other for that matter) for what feels like a long, long time.

New York city is like the face of an active volcano, it changes every day – every hour. Graydon Carter owns Ye Old Waverly Inn, a two-bedroom apartment in Red Hook Brooklyn now costs nearly a million dollars and the city, poised for trouble following an incident where cops fired fifty shots into the car of a young black man, killing him the morning of his wedding, has a Mayor who pays attention.

New York City … some days I do miss it so.