New York, New York


I have always loved New York City. Although I was born in Brooklyn, I spent the majority of my life in Oregon. My father took his family west while his brother stayed in New York. We went “back East” every few years, including 1952 when I was five.  Then in 2001 my husband and I moved to Connecticut, just a train ride from “THE city,” as I have always thought of it.

We went to a Yankees/Red Sox game on September 10, 2001, a gloriously blue sky day and I felt I was finally back where I belonged.  This old picture captures that optimistic safe at home sense I felt that fall day in 2001, just 18 hours before it was shattered.

It is still a wonderful city. I still love it dearly. Today I thank all the people who go ahead with their lives, refusing to bow to fear. Refusing to scapegoat all the immigrants who saw this city as a gateway to their new lives. Refusing to blame all followers of a religion for the crimes of a few. Here I stand, I seemed to say. Here I stand, I still say.

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