Runner Up: Julie Anderson Slattery
Pennington, New Jersey
Congratulations, Julie!
Julie’s Bio:
My name is Julie Anderson Slattery and I live in the town of Pennington, New Jersey. I haven't always been a Jersey Girl; I grew up in Missouri and got my Bachelors of Journalism degree from the University of Missouri at Columbia (my home town). After two years at a trade magazine in St. Louis, I moved to Manhattan where I worked as an editor at various consumer magazines for 10 years. When our only son was old enough to demand a yard of his own, my husband and I crossed the magical river between City life and Suburbia.
We've been hiding out here for years with a yard (yahoo!), and a huge Chesapeake Bay Retriever named Bear. After winning first place and the Graverson Award in the Garden State Horror Writers annual short story contest a few years ago, I decided to dabble in fiction full time. I'm almost finished with a young adult science fiction novel, which takes place in Manhattan, and I'm trying to find a publisher for two picture books about marriage and divorce (respectively and in that order, of course!). I live with the above-mentioned son, now 12, the dog, still huge, and one husband, still mine.
I'd love to hear from anyone who feels inclined to write: j.slattery51@verizon.net.
Ferry to the Show
By Julie Anderson Slattery
“Should I stay or should I go?”
The lyrics of The Clash haunted me the first weeks I lived in Manhattan. I’d made the ultimate move: From roomy apartment in St. Louis to a third-of-a-share in a wee one-bedroom flat on the Upper East Side... from comfortably predictable trade magazine to risky p.r. girl factory paying little and promising nothing. “Oh, you’ll get loads of experience, darling, a veritable jumping board to bigger things,” or so said my scary new boss as she let show a wide porcelain-veneered grin.
And so, I found myself one steamy September Saturday, roaming the city like a single spectator in a living production. The cast was enormous, each a living, breathing mystery and all of them tied together by the common stage called New York City.
In and out they dashed--working, laughing, screaming, eating, spitting, shopping, fighting, loving... often in exotic languages. The backdrops were immense, hundreds of buildings in a toy box of colors, styles and heights. The green parks with their ancient trees and twinkling ponds? Straight out of a Hollywood set. This living movie was made real by a dusting of dirt and piles of shiny black garbage bags… "The trash collectors' strike welcomes you to the roach and rat buffet!"
Was intensity of the ordinary what made this city so alien to me? Would the Technicolor clarity ever soften? And the most important question:
“Should I stay or should I go?”
I hadn’t made many friends. It takes time, right? Co-workers who’d been eager to share their city when I’d interviewed were dramatically busy. No one had time to show around that quiet blonde from “some cornfield state, was it Missouri or Kansas? Oh, it doesn’t matter; we’ll forget and ask you again next week, ha ha. Gotta run, don’t you love getting tickets to a show at the last minute? What, you’ve never been?! Well, I’ll take you, um, one day." And so it went, everyone racing to the next great thing that didn’t include me.
Ah, but the roommates, you ask: Surely three girls plus one dorm-style bedroom equals shared cabs to cool clubs, pillow fights and hangover brunches? Not so much, it turned out. For these chicks, second-cousins to friends-twice-removed of a co-worker’s past boss’s niece, were, um, odd. With indoor skin and quirky glasses they bore an inability to smile, share drawer space or muster interest in anyone from fly-over land.
Better to seek out city thrills on my own. So, trot trot here, grab the 6-train there and shop shop shop. Not a cent to spend, so stop shopping and walk walk walk. Check out the galleries in Soho, paintings free to enjoy! Trip over an “opening” and sample watery wine and dry - but free! - crackers and cookies. Onto Washington Square to listen to drumming and watch the hip-hop dancers; okay, not bad, if only these people could see me.
I walk more and discover Chinatown. My goodness, Dorothy says to Toto, so much splendor, all for sale? Designer bags (well almost), and watches in gold and silver, shiny clothing, shiny shoes, shiny money needed to buy them. Note to self: Return with future funds/score items of delight for family and friends back home. Home. Quiet. Uncrowded. Home.
"Should I stay or should I go now?"
Like the Chinatown charms, the sparkle of the city is, I see now, gold-plated or maybe just gold paint. I stand on the corner of Canal and Mulberry, Where should I go and does it matter? The acts stretch before me long and empty and for the first time in days, I feel a good cry scratch at my throat.
I am jostled. What's this? I hear a single voice: “We could catch the Staten Island Ferry, it’s only a quarter and you can ride all day.” A young guy speaks to someone I can’t see, the crowd has grown as we wait for the light.
Maybe I’ll cross the street this time, break my frozen sadness. I wonder when I'll tell the chilly roommates I’m splitting town. I smile grimly; they really need my share of the rent.
“Sure, why not?” The voices grow faint as they cross the street. “That’s about the only cruise we can afford!” Laughter. Why do I hear these people? I follow them. Walk walk walk, pretend I’m in this scene. That would be nice. Wonder what we’ll do tonight? Bet we have great plans, cheap ones, but fun. Right, left, step step, they're moving faster. Hey, there are the Twin Towers, tall and gray and the best way to determine if one is looking uptown or down. Are we near Wall Street?
And then we are there.
This is the ferry I’ve heard about. Doesn't look special. Sort of a round, gray bus terminal. Just a quarter, the rope is drawn and off we motor, floor bouncing, hey we are on a boat ride. Cool.
I’ve lost my leaders, but that’s okay. I wander inside and buy a Bud Light, ooh, splurging, walk back outside, over the raised step, out the door, mmm, nice breeze lifts sweaty hair off sweaty neck, and hey, are those seagulls? Don’t see those in Missouri. Pushing through the crowd, I look for more gulls and that’s when I see it. Oh my, I stare quietly. Why did no one tell me?
Surprised, I glance at the others around me and they see me! They smile and nod and one man, an old one, raises his own Bud Light in a toast. I smile broadly and return the beer salute. Raising the sweating bottle I take a delicious drink and contemplate the most gorgeous bright and shining show in the whole world. I am sure of it.
From here the city, my city, shines gold, yes, real GOLD, in the sun’s rays. It’s filled with life, with people of every color and race and opinion -- millions of hearts that beat with a shared need, a compulsive desire to live in this show of all shows, this never-ending heartbreaking, heartwarming production of "New York."
While I had searched its streets and corners for friendship, the city had found and befriended me.
"Should I stay, or should I go now?"
I should stay, now.
And I did stay, for ten memorable years. I rode the ferry with the friends I eventually made, with that shy guy from the Bronx who would become my husband, with our son who took one look from the bargain cruise and grinned broadly at his shimmering birthplace.
From the banks of New Jersey, where we moved, we watched as towers of smoke rose in place of our Golden Twins. We watched the hurting, the clearing, the healing.
With her wounds, the city looks different, but no less majestic. This tough town will survive to bedazzle lonely girls for generations to come. And if I could, I would smile and raise a cold beer to each of them as they realize the gem they’ve inherited and the cast they've forever joined.
Here's to The Show.
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