I happily say that the Jersey City zip 07302 has been my home since then, having grown up and out of my shared living situation of two years into a junior one bedroom for ten years, and now a flat I lovingly named "Cassie" the Casa. Entering the ranks of home ownership with "Cassie" after an exhaustive three year search can only be likened to my dating life which awaits its similarly happy fruition. But I digress.
The address of my younger years in San Francisco now doesn't seem as close to the heart of this great city as the Westin St. Francis Hotel, my address for this weekend. Framed prints of celebs and figures (the likes of Queen Elizabeth chatting with Ronald Reagan) from the art deco period serve as murals behind the registration desk. Grecian columns sunk in dark marble greet the guests and bring me back to my days as a haberdashery professional at a fine mens' clothing store, Hastings, located below the hotel's main lobby (now MaxAzria).
How differently am I seeing these same halls seventeen years later? Formerly traversed to use the high end men's lounge while on break from my retail job, I am now a hotel guest wondering what happened to the once bustling florist that contributed a genuine waft of roses. Victoria's Secret continues to reveal its sensuality, weathering years of fluctuating economy where many were stripped financially naked. The Oak Room, a restaurant decoratively reminiscent of the world renown Taillevent of Paris (see pictures in "Paris July 4th"on facebook) embraced me with the aroma of what I could only guess as roasted duck breast in a berry reduced sauce. These play harmoniously, marking the passage of time, and in my mind launching into the recognizable (at least for contemporaries) intro to the theme of "Mahogany" where Diana Ross sings the questions "Do you know, where you're going to. Do you like the things that life is showing you? Where are you going to .... do you know?"
This weekend gave me a chance to take stock of such blessings with my loving family and friends, the ones who ask questions that you don't know answers to, much like Miss Ross' . Though it's fair to say that 1998's ambition and dreams eventually convinced the heart to follow my eastward migration, the best of 2011's technological advances have allowed me to be as in touch and involved with the lives of my loved ones. So as I hungrily sink my teeth into the Big Apple, my heart very much breathes the damp fog ridden San Francisco mist, climbing atop a hill on a cable car from which the bell tolls.
How differently am I seeing these same halls seventeen years later? Formerly traversed to use the high end men's lounge while on break from my retail job, I am now a hotel guest wondering what happened to the once bustling florist that contributed a genuine waft of roses. Victoria's Secret continues to reveal its sensuality, weathering years of fluctuating economy where many were stripped financially naked. The Oak Room, a restaurant decoratively reminiscent of the world renown Taillevent of Paris (see pictures in "Paris July 4th"on facebook) embraced me with the aroma of what I could only guess as roasted duck breast in a berry reduced sauce. These play harmoniously, marking the passage of time, and in my mind launching into the recognizable (at least for contemporaries) intro to the theme of "Mahogany" where Diana Ross sings the questions "Do you know, where you're going to. Do you like the things that life is showing you? Where are you going to .... do you know?"
This weekend gave me a chance to take stock of such blessings with my loving family and friends, the ones who ask questions that you don't know answers to, much like Miss Ross' . Though it's fair to say that 1998's ambition and dreams eventually convinced the heart to follow my eastward migration, the best of 2011's technological advances have allowed me to be as in touch and involved with the lives of my loved ones. So as I hungrily sink my teeth into the Big Apple, my heart very much breathes the damp fog ridden San Francisco mist, climbing atop a hill on a cable car from which the bell tolls.
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