..The more they stay the same, as the adage goes.

Recently, I was invited to lunch down by my old high school, the famous Stuyvesant High School that I’ve probably mentioned before. Arriving uncharecteristically early, I had some time to amble down the blocks I frequented as a youth (ha! because I’m such an old coot now) and reflected on the time that had passed. Wandering, I saw the effects of the city’s efforts to rejuvenate the area after September 11th: there’s a Baluchi’s where … well, something was there before, and the crappy diner where we used to split matzoh ball soup because it was the cheapest thing on the menu is still crappy, but much shinier. But I was most nostalgic seeing the students: the seniors, wearing hats, sweatpants and sweatshirts of their college-to-be, despite the unseasonable warmth; the upperclassmen girls looking slovenly despite the hour I know they spent getting dressed; the underclassmen boys rambling down the block, still looking like middle-schoolers; the underclassmen girls, walking with arms linked. Heaven knows why, but it all just reminded me of why I love New York the most.

Related posts:

1. Back 2 School
2. Graduation Season
3. Bronx Science taken over by Dorothy Umbridge type lady
4. An Open Memo to the Women of New York
5. Pay for Good Grades