It’s right before sunup as I walk down Lexington, just me and a lone can-man collecting his wares.
I walk this early since the city is under siege with hardhats and jackhammers, peace no longer a given where I live, on Manhattan’s Upper East Side.
Stores I frequented for years have disappeared, replaced with scaffolding and beware of rat poison signs cordoned off like crime scenes. The noise is deafening from early in the morning till dusk, with sweaty workers hopefully wearing earplugs.
But in the early morning quiet, I forget this, as I approach 70th Street and look up.
There she is, the Chrysler Building all aglow as if just coming back from a fancy party, waving to me.
I just stand there staring, feeling one with such elegance, her lights taking me back to a time where architectural beauty mattered, unlike now, when soon Manhattan will resemble Tokyo.
Later on in the day, I find myself this time, on Madison and 40th Street, remembering the block they recently tore down across from Grand Central Station.
I recall the little Stetson Hat shop my father so loved he’d stop into before hopping on the train for home.
As my heart sinks, my ears assaulted, I look up, and there she is again as if to say, hey it’s me, and it doesn’t matter what they raze or build, I’ll always still be here.
They can’t knock me down.
Let’s hear it for for The Landmarks Preservation Commission sired in 1965 by Mayor Robert F. Wagner Jr. unable to imagine what our fair city would look like if it didn’t solidly exist.
Grand Central would certainly not still be standing with or without the noble presence of a Mrs. Jacqueline Kennedy.
What worries me most, what’s next to go? Can we still fight City Hall with a President who has no qualms about knocking down anything being an insensitive, disrespectful developer himself?
I'm just a girl who likes to write slightly on slant. I've had a career in fashion, dabbled in film and to be honest, I don't like talking about myself. Now my posts are another matter so I will let them speak for themselves.
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