Memories of New York

My wife and I lived in New York for close to 3 years, from 1999-2002.  In many ways, it was the most amazing time of our lives.

 

There is really too much to convey our tine New York.  What today's entry is a moment in a taxi to Manhattan.

 

New York is many things to many people.  To me, it was the place where your dreams could come true.  We were working day jobs, my wife at ESPN and me at Goldman Sachs.  At night, we'd party and try to make our theatrical dreams a reality.

 

I wrote a play and my wife directed it.  It was stressful, frantic, and one of the greatest things I've ever done.  My wife was amazing as a director, uncovering moments in my script I didn't know were there, translating my pages into a vision.  The actors were creative, brilliant and beautiful.

 

The audition was insane.  I put an ad in Callboard (theatre news).  No pay, non-union, staged reading.  We rented a space.  When we showed up, there was a line out the door.  I walked towards the room I was renting, thinking there was no way that this was for me.  But sure enough, it was.  Like 300 people showed up.  It was insane.

 

So there I was, completely green, with a hoarde of eager actors outside.  Putting on my best poker face, I said "I will need some time to set up, I will honor the sign-in sheet" that the actors started.  I went inside, closed the door, and laughed my ass off as quietly as possible.

 

My wife, arriving later, did the exact same thing.

 

So we went through the process, picked our cast, and went through the rehearsal process.  Things were going great, shaping up extrememly well.  There was a feeling that success was not only likely, but inevitable.

 

One day, towards the end of the rehearsal process, I took a cab into the city.  On the Brooklyn bridge, with the city agleam, was gripped by a sudden wistfulness.  I felt my life changing, from a day worker to a playright star.   It was a strange bittersweet feeling.  I was surprised to miss the way my life was.

 

So the reading went well, and then September 11th happened.  And all prospects of theatre ended.  The time wasn't right for any theatre, particularly controversial theatre about youth, abortion and suicide.

 

My wife and I, after much soul searching and deliberation, decided it was time to move home and start a family.  We left New York on a green bus and never looked back.

 

Except at that moment on that bridge, where I secretly dismayed at my stratospheric trajectory and longed for the "common" life that I am now leading.  Those delusions of grandier are a testament to just how green I was then.  The beauty of youth is limitless possibilty.  The beauty of age is knowing the world, knowing yourself, and being greatful for your life - in whatever form it has taken.