Below is a passage entitled “Here Is New York” that was written in 1948 and appears in “Essays of E.B. White”, Harper, 1977. I may technically be a “commuter” but at the end of the day, I feel like the third New York. Coming here for the very first time ten years ago, felt like coming home to me. And, even though my quest to come took some time, I am now finally here as more than a visitor and loving every day. Hmmm, well some more than others — but that is a whole other post 🙂 Anyways, I hope you enjoy and live in your very own New York now or someday soon…Happy Holidays!
There are roughly three New Yorks. There is, first, the New York of the man or woman who was born there, who takes the city for granted and accepts its size, its turbulence as natural and inevitable. Second, there is the New York of the commuter–the city that is devoured by locusts each day and spat out each night. Third, there is New York of the person who was born somewhere else and came to New York in quest of something. Of these trembling cities the greatest is the last–the city of final destination, the city that is a goal. It is this third city that accounts for New York’s high strung disposition, its poetical deportment, its dedication to the arts, and its incomparable achievements. Commuters give the city its tidal restlessness, natives give it solidity and continuity, but the settlers give it passion. And whether it is a farmer arriving from a small town in Mississippi to escape the indignity of being observed by her neighbors, or a boy arriving from the Corn Belt with a manuscript in his suitcase and a pain in his heart, it makes no difference: each embraces New York with the intense excitement of first love, each absorbs New York with the fresh eyes of an adventurer, each generates heat and light to dwarf the Consolidated Edison Company. . . .