New York, New York!

I haven't been to every great city, not even close.  I've been to most of America's biggest cities,  and there are some that were really fun to visit.  Sometimes I even imagine myself  living in those places.  However, I must say when it comes to my favorite city, and maybe it's because my family is from there, and maybe it's because of its flaws, but nothing compares to New York City.  New York City is like that sister you have that if you make fun of her,  and point out her many moral and mental shortcomings, it's okay.   However, if anyone else does it, then as the Mandelbaum's used to say on "Seinfeld", it's "Go Time!"

(Yup, it's "go-time"!)  (You Tube)

I often tell people I'm from New York City, but the truth is I was only born there.  I actually grew up in North Massapequa, which is Native American for "Land of many Strip Malls".  Long Islanders like myself, whose family moved from New York City to Long Island have a "love/hate" relationship with "The City".  (I would like to take this opportunity to point out one of the things that makes New York City great.  There's no other place where when people say, "The  City", everybody and I mean everybody knows what you mean.  I live about 20 miles from Albany and it's a fine place, but I have never said, nor have I heard anyone else say when they were on their way to Albany, "Hey, we're going to the city tonight!")  The "City" was such an intimidating place when I was a child, that just the idea of going into New York City to see our family or even to sight-see filled me with excitement mixed with a little bit of fear.  Growing up on Long Island, it always seemed that my friends felt the same way.

The Giant Blue Whale, one of the iconic images of one of the world's great museums, "The Museum of Natural History", a must for any visitor to New York City! (You Tube)

In some ways, the fact that I spent my entire childhood and teenage years in North Massapequa made me somewhat of an outsider in my own family.  As the youngest, I have often heard the stories of how my family and many of my aunts and uncles and cousins and grandfather all lived in the same building at 34 Hillside Avenue in Washington Heights, located in upper Manhattan.  Around the time I turned two, my parents decided it was time to move and buy a house.  We had just moved from Hillside Avenue before my mother became pregnant with me.  Apparently my parents had been sleeping on a pullout couch while my brothers had the one bedroom at 34 Hillside.  We moved around the corner to Bogardus Place, and my parents finally had their own bedroom.  It seemed to have worked out a little too well since shortly afterwards, my mother announced she was "expecting".  My father who rarely could be accused of being selfish when it came to his children had his own announcement to make: "I'm not going back to sleeping on the f____ing couch again!"  Plus, the neighborhood had already begun to change, so it was off to Long Island.

Honestly, I don't think I would have fared too well in our old neighborhood. I'm quite certain that one of the gangs would have eventually bullied me out of my tallis bag. (You Tube)

Many of my fondest memories regarding my father revolve around New York City.  I can remember so clearly the first time he and I went into the "City", just the two of us.  I was in awe when he told me to look up and there was the Empire State Building.  We also took the ferry to see the  Statue of Liberty.  We walked all the way up to the crown (I complained the whole way) and then back down the narrow spiral staircase.  There were so many firsts when it came to "The City".  My first Yankees, Mets, Rangers, and Knicks' games.  There was always that wonderful combination of excitement and danger.  I'll never forget my first Yankee game.  It was at the old Stadium in 1970. The Yankees were playing the Washington Senators.  (Who?)  The Yankee stars of the day were Thurman Munson, Mel Stottlemyre, and Bobby Murcer.  Since he had grown up in the Bronx, my father had no fear of the neighborhood decay that had taken place around Yankee Stadium in what was affectionately known by "New York's Finest" as "Fort Apache".  Waving off the idea of putting his green 1968 Pontiac Catalina in a lot, we parked on the street, only to come back and find a broken antenna.  I'm assuming the replacement of the antenna was more than it cost to park the car in a lot.

Yes, a dubious decision by my father in regards to where he should park his car. (You Tube)

My father had a peculiar sense of humor.  Sometimes he liked to drive through his old neighborhood in the Bronx with my mother and I,  and basically  scare us half to death.  (The Neighborhood had not held up well) One of his favorite haunts was "Yonah Schimmel's" down on the lower East Side of Manhattan.   "Yonah Schimmel's" is a "one-trick pony", but what a trick it is!  They make fresh knishes of every variety imaginable.  When you walk in, it's like walking into the "turn of the century".   The lower East Side had been where many Jews from eastern Europe had come to settle back in the late 1800s and into the early 20th century.  As these families began to improve their lot in life, many of these Jewish immigrants began to move out, and slowly but surely, the neighborhood began to change.  The infamous "Bowery" pushed right up to the lower East Side.  My father every once in a while got a "hankerin'" for knishes, the way Christopher Walken gets a "hankerin'" for more cowbell!  We would double-park (of course) outside "Yonah Schimmel's" and my father would walk in and buy a "gross" of knishes while my mother and I fearfully watched the world-famous "Bowery Bums" come up to our car, asking for change and "cleaning" our windshield.  My father would come out and chase them away, and then proceed to eat a boiling hot "jelly and cheese" knish.  While he went about complaining about how he had just burned the roof of his mouth, I would say, "Dad, aren't you scared of the bums?"  He would laugh and say that there was nothing to worry about since all they did was drink, so they were weak.  Worked for me.

Was this really worth risking my mother's life as well as my own??? Hell yeah! (Getty Images)

Not to sound like Henry Hill at the end of "Goodfellas", but now it's all different.  I'm not going to say I miss the dirt and the graffiti and the high murder rate, because nobody would.  In fact, when my wife and I lived in Flushing from 1987 through 1993, New York City was averaging over 1200 murders per year. (That's about 3 per day for those of you who took non-regents Math.)  Interestingly, right around the time we moved to the Capital Region, the murder rate dropped considerably, down to 333 as recently as 2013.  I'm sure that's just a coincidence.  Actually, you can probably point to a combination of an improved economy in the 1990s as well as  more aggressive police work which began under Mayor Rudolf Giuliani.

Times Square circa 1970. Say what you want, these theaters weren't exactly lacking for customers. (You Tube)

Times Square today...the Disney Version...Yawn. (You Tube)

Disney came in during the 1990s, bought all of the Real Estate in Times Square and it is now forever changed.  Times Square used to be safe enough during the day, but then when the clock struck midnight, the streets were taken over by quite a different element.  Today, you probably have a better chance of being mugged in fake New York City in Las Vegas than you do in Times Square.  Don't get me wrong, I'm not against revitalization, or safer streets.  I just wonder if New York City is losing its unique qualities.

It's a shame that it took the "9/11" attacks to wake this nation up and appreciate that New York City is one of our national treasures, and one of the great symbols of our nation.  Whether you are talking about the skyline, or the ethnic neighborhoods, the restaurants and bars, to its history or even the Stock Market, there is no other place like it.  So let everybody hate on New York City, the success of the Yankees, the thuggish-incompetence of the Jets, the historic ineptitude of the Knicks, the traffic, the cost of living.  New Yorkers are the one group who not only can take it, they thrive on it.  Fugettaboutit!

Now that's a bold statement! (You Tube)