My “High Fidelity” momentDoug French
Hey, New York. You look good. You’re finally getting the Spring you were denied in April. And you always smell a little better after a hurricane.
Listen, I’ve been meaning to talk to you. I know the last few months have been pretty weird. And a little testy. I said some things, and you did some things. But after all we’ve been through, I don’t want it to end like this.
Where did the 20 years go? I spent a lot of it loving you, and hating you, and hating loving you, and missing you when I was gone. You’re smart, you’re funny, you’re hot. (I love how your face shines in the morning.) You’re cultured. You’re the best cook. You have one of the best all-time laughs in the history of all-time laughs.
You astonished me. You challenged me. You gave me the best years of my life.
There are too many good times to remember, right? And I don’t just mean 9/11 (I’ll always remember all the goodwill from that shared trauma, despite reports that it’s souring with age). I’m talking about specific moments I’ll take with me forever. Like the huge, impromptu snowball fight during the Blizzard of ’96. Or the joyous sing-along outside the Garden when the Rangers took the Cup in ’94. You don’t pillage yourself after a big win, or a big loss. You know how to deal with Triumph and Disaster, and treat those two impostors just the same.
You’re also great with young kids. They’re everywhere here, playing in your parks and crowding your museums. You’re more neighborhoody than people think. And everything we needed for them–our pediatrician, the grocery store, the 24-hour pharmacy, the ER where we took my one-month-old son when he spiked a 105 fever and I spent the night with my heart in my mouth–was within a few blocks.
I don’t know where it went wrong. The kids got older, and we disagreed about what was best for them. And the challenges that used to endear me started to eat away at my defenses. We had a great run, but we grew apart. My needs changed. And right now, I need more than you’ve got to give.
I’m just hoping we can do this amicably, and stay friends. When you owe so much of yourself to a relationship that’s ending, you want it to end with as few hard feelings as possible.
And who’s to say what the future holds? You know how break-ups go. Maybe one day, when I’ve worked through some stuff, and you’ve worked through some stuff, there might be room in our lives for each other once again.