The Unsolvable Puzzle of New York

I try not to visit cities more than once. Not because I haven’t enjoyed my visit, but because there is so much of the world I haven’t seen. So why do I return to New York again and again? To me, New York is eternal but not solvable. I grew up here. My mom died here. Yet even though I no longer have family ties bringing me “home,” I return. Sometimes you don’t want to solve the puzzle because you enjoy the puzzling, and New York is the mystery I can never seem to solve.

I love everything about New York, even the crowded steel subway cars filled with the vacant stares of riders projecting an invisible space before them. The metallic bits reflected in the sidewalk, the steam emerging from the underground vents, the water dripping down from air conditioners, the scaffolding running up every building, the endless array of food carts, all of this feels like home to me. Even the bewildered tourists, strolling alongside the newcomers, trying to look jaded as if they are Brooklyn-born and not Kansas-bred, delight me. And I always feel like visitors never properly appreciate New York’s parks. The greenery that is everyone’s living room in this crowded island of postage-stamp apartments. The public parks host concerts, hidden paths, couples lounging on picnic blankets, and the shouts of kids playing soccer.

But more than anything else, New York poses the question of what my life would have looked like if I had stayed. New York overshadows everything else. The city’s skyline is imitated worldwide and shows off the oldest high-rise buildings in the country. When other American cities were building their first tall buildings, New York already had an established skyline. The diversity is unparalleled in New York. The city speaks over 800 languages and has acted as a refuge, opening its welcoming arms to the world over and over again. As but a few examples, New York is both the site of the oldest US Jewish congregation and home to an arrival point from the Underground Railroad.

Like the inscription on the Statue of Liberty prescribes, New York accepts immigrants and incorporates them into the city’s life. Directly in front of high-end shops, you’ll see native Sudanese selling lower-cost options. And speaking of shopping, New York is an economic powerhouse with a bigger economy than Brazil or Italy. It has the largest concentration of wealth anywhere on the planet. Indeed, 125 billionaires call New York home.

New York's cultural dominance is unmatched. Just thinking about music, the city helped birth jazz, a genre gifted by the African-American community that is the only high cultural product from the US. Beyond jazz, the city’s history brought us bebop,duwap, boogaloo, salsa, punk rock, hip hop, and disco. On this trip, I pointed out to my husband the past home of Limelight, the former Episcopal church, that became a legendary nightclub. I still remember the electric charge of dancing the night away in what had been, and possibly still was, a sacred space.

Beyond the diversity, the money, and the culture, New York is notable just for the sheer physical density of the island. Because of its solid rock formation, it can support both the skyscrapers towering above and allow the subway to be built only one level down. And, of course, New York has always been a city that values and develops intellect. The city has the most Nobel Prize winners in history. Nine graduates of Bronx Science - a public high school - have won the Nobel Prize. Indeed, in the early 1970s, City College - the first free public higher education institution - was second only to Harvard in Nobel winners.

The strength of all these forces is why New York haunts me even when I’m away, like something always just outside of my consciousness. Some see chaos and violence in the city. I know the breadth and weight of the city as it absorbs and creates. It’s big and powerful and constantly breathing in the world and welcoming it home. In the end, I suppose that’s why I keep returning, because, like all of us, I am always trying to find my way home.