Things I Miss

What I miss about:

West New York

I miss the Cuban food. Growing up, I took the pasteles, media noches, arroz con gandules y platanos for granted. In my travels, I’ve come upon a couple of “Cuban-themed” restaurants. I always stop to eat at them. The food is good, but never as great as the Cuban food I grew up with in West New York.

Manhattan

The biggest thing I miss about New York is the intellectual stimulation. Thus far, New York City is the smartest place I’ve ever lived. The very essence of the city is its arts and cultural environment. New York’s contribution to the world is the constant interpretation of the human experience. Readings, writings, paintings, sculptures, films, performances, acts, shows, exhibits, festivals, concerts and gigs––unceasing in quantity, unabated in quality and constantly pushing me past the bounds of my knowledge and giving me a new experience everyday. I miss that about New York. I have not found that vivacity elsewhere.

Carlsbad

I miss the quality of life that is influenced by the hospitable climate and the beauty of the natural environment. Carlsbad is a mix of Southern California beach life, Mexican rancho history, upscale suburban amenities and stark desert life. I miss living my life outdoors.

Crested Butte

I miss the majesty of the mountains. I miss the way my spirits soared looking at the landscape and having a true Rocky Mountain High.

Brookline

I miss the convenience of the Coolidge Corner neighborhood: the bank, the post office, the Trader Joe’s. I miss going for a walk on a summer night to grab a “fro-yo” and browse the Brookline Booksmith.

Manchester by the Sea

I miss the big beautiful acreage my deck overlooked. I miss watching the birds play in the shrubbery, keeping the strutting turkeys at bay and listening to the sounds of the ocean waves from the other side of the woods.

These are the things I miss.

Matzoh Ball Soup

Childhood was a relatively healthy time for me. Throughout grammar school, other kids had pink eye, strep throat, mono, head lice, broken bones, canker sores, ear infections, and other maladies that kept the School Nurse’s Office doing a brisk business. I only had the occasional head cold and maybe even the flu once or twice.

But when I moved into New York City, I became the most sickly young adult on the planet.

It was a combination of a couple of factors. For starters, in the big city I was exposed to a broader range and a heavier volume of germs than the little town I grew up in. Those germs were transmitted by people from all over the world. And while hand-washing has always been a part of good hygiene, it was less hyped-up in the 1980s. Carrying hand disinfectant was unheard of.

Secondly, I pushed my immune system to the limit. When I moved into the city, I was an 18-year-old full of energy. I’d stay out all night with my friends––then go home, shower, change, dress and go to work. I repeated this cycle for a couple of days until I eventually crashed, coming down with a “bug.”

Sniffling, sneezing and with a runny nose, I’d throw on a pair of sweatpants, put my hair up in a ponytail and pray I wouldn’t run into anybody as I walked over to 2^nd Ave. Deli.

2^nd Ave. Deli was always a zoo, no matter what time of day I went. I knew to gird myself against the mayhem and the incredibly ancient waitresses who shoved past me in cushioned waitressing shoes.

At the take-out counter, I’d ask for a large container of Matzoh Ball Soup and the guy would ask: “With noodles?”

I’d nod, and he’d say, “Yes of course with noodles.”

I felt like this noodles question was always a test! Once I passed, I’d feel bold enough to ask, “Extra Challah, please.”

Today, whenever get sick, I long for 2^nd Ave. Deli’s Matzoh Ball Soup.