“Isn’t it a little…wild up there?”


When I moved to NYC in 1981, one of my co-workers asked me, “Isn’t it a little…wild up there?” upon hearing my new apartment was on West 90th Street. In those days, anything north of the Museum of Natural History, with the winos and potheads sleeping it off on the park benches surrounding the building, was alarming.

I moved into my fifth-floor walk-up with my two dogs, climbed those stairs multiple times a day to walk them, and learned to look out for the piles of horse manure when crossing the street (I lived up the block from the now defunct Claremont Stables).

Never, not for a nanosecond, have I had any qualm about that move!


24 thoughts on ““Isn’t it a little…wild up there?”

      1. Yes, I understand, Margarita πŸ™‚
        Personally, I think anything that is different has the potential to be interesting πŸ˜€

  1. Yes, well, you were always a wild pioneer. Imagine what it’s like now. Glad you were qualm free! Sheila (still on 91st street, having outlived the “dope fiends,” as my dad called them).

    1. Yes. It’s often perceived that way. Violence can happen anywhere, not just in the cities. I have experienced the kindness and concern of my neighbors as well as the kindness and concern of total strangers in this metropolis. I’m sure my experience is not an anomaly. πŸ˜‰ xoxoM

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