Time Passages

Photo: Anna Cervova

I think I finally am beginning to catch my breath after the whirlwind tour of New York my goddaughter and I had last weekend. We went from 7:30 a.m. to after midnight everyday . . . except the first day, Friday, which started at 3 a.m. for her and 4:30 a.m. for me! We saw Manhattan from one end to the other -- took in the Halloween Parade in the Village and a Broadway show. Walked the length of Central Park and took a ferry out to Liberty Island to visit the Statue of Liberty. And, of course, ate some really good food. (And some really mediocre food, too . . . The Jeckyl and Hyde Club was a fun place to be on Halloween but the food was barely edible!) By Monday, we both were plumb tuckered out. But in a good way.

I had waited patiently for this visit for fully 18 years. Having known her, almost from the day she was born, I knew I loved her. I'm her Fairy Godmother, after all . . . and I have the bracelet to prove it! But even so, I wasn't prepared for the depth of emotion I experienced or the delight I felt in realizing that she's fast becoming the kind of woman I'm proud to know.

One of the best-kept secrets in our youth-obsessed culture is that it is truly awe-inspiring to know other human beings from the moment they arrive on the planet and onward. It is an honor and a privilege to be part of someone's life that way. Parents know this, of course. But what I'm speaking of isn't specific solely to parents. It's so much broader than that. It encompasses all the young people in our lives, and those older than we are, too, come to that. It gives us space to appreciate our place in the Grand Scheme and to honor THAT place, instead of wishing for another.

It's true that the shiny-penny energy and exuberance of the very young can be a reminder that we now are in a different place . . . that we're older . . . that the phase of life we witness in them now is behind us. And I'll admit to an occasional wave of nostalgia over the fun I had in my Roaring Twenties. We're encouraged -- by the folks who sell us lotions and potions and unguents and pills and tonics that promise to forestall the march of time -- to think of ways we can look as much like we did then as possible. Which, when you think of it is A) ridiculous and B) a terrible example to set. When you live in New York, you see a lot of women and men who have "had work done." And in almost every instance, they don't look younger . . . they just look like they've had work done. I don't think there's anything intrinsically wrong with that . . . but by trying to look the way we looked 10 or 15 or 20 years ago -- or, worse, the way we wish we'd looked 10 or 15 or 20 years ago -- we don't leave much room to look the way we look right now. Which is younger than we're ever going to look again.

If I can give my goddaughters and godsons and nieces and nephews and cousins and Girl Scouts and all the young people in my life an example to live by, I'd like it to encourage them to see life as a grand and glorious adventure at every port of call. New York isn't better than Paris; Paris isn't better than London; London isn't better than Rome. Every city offers its own delights for exploration. It makes no sense to miss the grandeur and glory of Rome because you're dreaming of New York! (Well, that's probably not a great example. I mean, anyone who has read the New Yorker knows that Manhattan IS the Center of the Universe. And rightfully so. But for the purpose of this illustration, let's pretend that it's on an equal footing with the other great cities of the world. Instead of being superior in every way. Which it is. Clearly. But I may not be totally objective on this point. First of all, this is my home. And secondly, I haven't been to Paris or London or Rome yet. And I will love each of them in turn. Obviously. But probably not as much as I love New York.)

The point is probably best made by counterpoint: Begin with my beautiful goddaughter at Point A, who is a few decades behind me and just beginning -- she's working three jobs, saving money for nursing school; then pan to my dear friend and contemporary who is just beginning -- she's getting a degree in landscape design; then pan to my handsome friend, who is a few decades ahead of me . . . and just beginning -- he's getting a law degree.

No matter where you find yourself, there are new adventures to be had and gorgeous views to enjoy. My goddaughter would add theatre and art to that list, my dear friend would add pastry and chocolate, and the handsome friend would add sharp cheese and good wine. All of which just serves to underscore how important it is to have good friends of all ages!