June 4, 2002
If there's a constant in our universe, aside from the speed of light, it's that New York City is still and always New York City.
The city's a financial wreck but it's where I grew up, and it has a special hold on me, even after 16 years in Florida.
Most of my family still lives in the city and its suburbs, and on a recent trip I made the rounds to visit my brother in Greenwich Village, my grandmother in Brooklyn and my other brother, his wife and two daughters in Shirley.
A lot of negatives about New York City can be dredged up, but there are some positives if you know where to look. The public transportation system runs, and the MetroCard system means you'll never be out of exact change again. If you board a bus or subway and use the MetroCard, you can transfer for free within two hours.
Granted, the subway is an alphabet soup of letters and numbers, but the Metropolitan Transportation Authority's Web site is helpful and convenient, and maps are everywhere in the subway.
Advances in sound reproduction technology mean you can actually understand the conductor on the train. In the past, you'd hear "bzzzt bzzz bztztz" at each station. I was stunned to hear, as plain as day, "This is an E train, Eighth Avenue local. Lexington Avenue next. Stand clear of the doors."
They haven't changed the signs in the subway yet, so an uninformed rider might think the E train still goes under the Twin Towers.
I took the train on my last day in New York to Greenwich Village and saw my brother's place, a fourth-floor walkup in a 140-year-old building. The small apartment has a fireplace, a view of the river and the distinct impression that one side of the apartment is higher than the other. It is, Robert said, noting that the building is slightly tilted, but that the big bolts in the wall secure the place to the building next door.
We took a walking tour of Lower Manhattan and I kept looking up, expecting to see those towers that dominated the landscape for so many years. I wondered what people thought as they looked up and saw the planes fly into those buildings and the flames and worse spurting from what once seemed a symbol of strength.
We walked close to Ground Zero, and could see the work continuing at the former site of the World Trade Center. Nearby was a makeshift memorial to the brave and dedicated rescue personnel who died trying to save lives on Sept. 11. I photographed a little plaque honoring my former classmate, Lt. Kenneth Phelan, FDNY. Even at 40, he still resembled the Irish kid I knew at Our Lady of Hope in Middle Village, Queens, in the early 1970s.
With all the sadness and tragedy that have happened, it's sad that the politicians and hucksters see only opportunities to pass blame and cash in.
But New York City is still New York City. And that's all right.
Vincent F. Safuto is a copy editor for the Press Journal. Reach him at Vincent.Safuto@scripps.com.
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