I suspect definitions of "strength" have changed. 😃
There were many, many reasons why my childhood was suboptimal, but oddly enough, NYC was not one of them. I took the filth and the junkies and the wankers in stride, I guess—I just didn't see anything out of the ordinary about them; in fact, they struck me as kind of humorous.
They still do, in fact. Although today, it's horribly politically incorrect to find them humorous.
My best friend—a child actress—and I spent every Saturday walking from our homes on the Upper West Side—which was nothing like the Upper West Side of today!—down to the Village. We'd wander through Central Park and make up these long, involved, enchanted stories about the strangers we saw who inevitably we named "Allegra," "Dominica," "Roderick," or "Maximillian."
Then on Sundays, I would spend all day either at the Metropolitan Museum of Art or the American Museum of Natural History. Admission was free in those days.
And I went to a very good school, which I loved.
True, my mother was a complete madwoman, but she ignored me most of the time. I was self-reliant enough to thrive in that neglect. In many respects, filthy, gritty NYC was the scene of a quite enchanted childhood.
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There were many, many reasons why my childhood was suboptimal, but oddly enough, NYC was not one of them. I took the filth and the junkies and the wankers in stride, I guess—I just didn't see anything out of the ordinary about them; in fact, they struck me as kind of humorous.
They still do, in fact. Although today, it's horribly politically incorrect to find them humorous.
My best friend—a child actress—and I spent every Saturday walking from our homes on the Upper West Side—which was nothing like the Upper West Side of today!—down to the Village. We'd wander through Central Park and make up these long, involved, enchanted stories about the strangers we saw who inevitably we named "Allegra," "Dominica," "Roderick," or "Maximillian."
Then on Sundays, I would spend all day either at the Metropolitan Museum of Art or the American Museum of Natural History. Admission was free in those days.
And I went to a very good school, which I loved.
True, my mother was a complete madwoman, but she ignored me most of the time. I was self-reliant enough to thrive in that neglect. In many respects, filthy, gritty NYC was the scene of a quite enchanted childhood.