Rude New Yorkers? Fugedit!

The stereotype of New Yawkers as being rude, pushy, loud, obnoxious may be the New York of its past, not the New New York where homicide is down, traffic ignored, and its inhabitants the one urban dwellers whose mortality rises as they live in this city that never sleeps. My son and I have walked and walked, exploring our area, heading to the Bed, Bath, and Beyond for various household items in need when storage is at a premium.

And in our explorations, we have not encountered a sideways glance as my son's constant prattle is heard a block away. Instead, people, old, young, black, white, Asian, all look at him with an expression of bemusement, sometimes saying 'hello' to him. Perhaps it is this constant contact with humanity, being surrounded by people everywhere that keeps people more humane. Whatever the reasons, my son and I have been the recipient of seats on a crowded bus, this precious commodity graciously handed over by men, who look harried and in a hurry. Cab drivers have driven us three short blocks without complaint, my son too tired to walk any further. And in all our years in LA, we never, not once, received a welcome gift from any neighbor in the multitude of neighborhoods we had lived. Here in a city where neighbors don't talk, or so they say, we were given a beautiful box of Italian pastries from our neighbor next door, certainly a first for our family.

Some people have written and complained about this new New York, their litanies dripping in sentimentality about the grittiness of the city's past. They don't understand this new city where kids in strollers seem to be outnumbering those fast walking power suits, a brief case in hand as they hurry to close their next deal. The writer in me can understand this nostalgia about this city's history, but as a mom and a newcomer, I am thrilled to see families living in the city, not having fled to any of the bedroom communities. I watch my son maneuver this new place, skipping down wide sidewalks, stopping on corners, not an ounce of fear in his face as we make our way down to subways. And when he tells me he needs to hail a cab, his little arm stretched skyward in that universal signal, I don't argue. His quick adaptation to this big city is the confirmation I need that this big leap of faith was not in vain.