You can’t go home again: Part 2
Posted by keithosaunders on January 1, 2011
One month ago, at Thanksgiving, I visited my father in Las Vegas. On the way there I spent a night in Los Angeles seeing some old friends. I couldn’t resist a chance to peek at the house in Van Nuys where I grew up. The house was painted a different color, was a little worse for wear, but for the most part was as I remembered it. But there was something otherworldly about looking at a place that was so familiar, yet not mine.
Here it is, a month later and I find myself in New York City — my first time back since moving to Berkeley five months ago. I stepped off the subway at 47th st/Rockefeller Center and I wasn’t prepared for the emotion that hit me — anger. Anger that from now on my status in New York will forever be that of a cameo. Everything here seems the same, but like my experience with my childhood house, it seems alien to me. New York is slightly out of focus; it is no longer my town.
My gig was great. I played at a restaurant called Per Se with my good friend and favorite bassist, Bim Strasberg, and a fine singer, Hillary Gardner. The gig was long, but good. There was a nice Steinway there and we had a beautiful dinner.
Afterwards I went down to Small’s in the village for their after hours party. I had a great time sitting in and I saw some old friends there. I stayed for a few hours, stumbled onto the street and into the subway. I rode all the way to the end of the line on the 6 train up to the Bronx. After walking halfway up the ramp to the Bruckner Expressway I was able to reverse course and find my way to my friend’s house. I went to bed a seven AM.