Last of the Summer Days in the City

The New York Times had an article describing how New Yorkers were heading outdoors to sit on stoops of brownstones, the steps of the Public Library, the steps of the Met, and most obviously Central Park to engage in the most mundane of activities--reading books. Yes, that's right, reading. If there is a cultural difference between the East Coast and LA, it is this one...reading. When I first moved to LA from New Haven, no less, I was dumbfounded by how little, if at all, people seemed to read. Whenever I'd mention a book I was reading or had read, my reference would be met with a blank stare, quickly masked by faked interest. It seemed that people (obviously a gross generalization), predominantly in the Entertainment Industry, hardly touched a book, and seemed to view Vanity Fair as high brow reading. This stereotype of Angelenos not reading seemed to extend far and beyond to those in the Entertainment Industry. I knew a woman, who viewed herself as really smart by her measure, who never seemed to read anything. It was quite remarkable actually. I had never met anyone who didn't read at all.

The ever present sun might have had something to do with this phenomenon of people not reading. One could argue that the bleak, grim winter months attributed to Easterners being more avid in their reading habits since gray days make it more challenging to engage in outdoor activities. But in truth, how can weather be blamed for the cultural emphasis or avoidances of a whole city?

My son and I trekked to the New York Public Library where the steps were adorned with bodies sitting and enjoying the summer day. Everywhere I turned, people seemed to be reading or watching the world as it passed them by on busy 42nd street. It was one of those scenes, which the writer of the Times article was describing, a city disengaged and engaged all at the same time. The juxtaposition of engaging in this solitary of acts, reading, while outside among the world is reassuring in some odd way. What's fascinating is how much people seem to read in public spaces like buses, subways, and outside on stoops, it seems. Now, the city of perpetual nice weather, if weather were the determining factor, rarely lured its citizenry out to the public places (very few that are inviting) for them to sit and read. Actually, very few people seemed to sit outside and enjoy the weather in such public places. The one exception are the countless coffee shops that had outside tables, which seemed to draw a certain group of people, who seemed to have loads of time to sit and drink their coffee.

We spent Labor Day in Central Park where we laid out blankets and ate the Kimbap I had prepared for our family picnic. This park, one of my favorite places in the city, is such a contrast to Griffith Park, its counterpart in LA. For one, it is much more grander in scope, and is available and used by all New Yorkers. Our son, who loved this park on his visits to New York, now played and ran as a native city kid. Each day here seems to embolden him as he maneuvers this city.