Because Today I Booked A Ticket For Seattle. I'll Be There From Aug. 28 - Sept. 6th. Can You Say BUMBERSHOOT?
I have a strange relationship with my hometown. It doesn’t really connect to my childhood/growing up, although I suppose if I were to really examine things, the last time I was in Seattle for longer than a summer break was one of the most angry times of my life. Before that time, I don’t know that I had that many problems with Seattle. At the same time, living somewhere else made me see that there are things about it that are a problem for me, or would be if I was still there.
A lot of it is outlined in this Seattle Times article about the “Seattle Freeze.” It mostly talks about outsiders being the biggest victims of the isolation of Seattlites, but it influences the way natives are, too, it’s just not as noticable because it happens in an opposite way. People who move to Seattle from somewhere else lose social lives, confidence, that sense of connectedness. People who move from Seattle to somewhere else have all of that to gain.
I did gain all of those things when I left - and when you have them, in abundance, it’s hard to want to return to the infamous Seattle isolation. And I suppose that’s part of the issue now. It created this dichotomy in my life: Seattle Taylor and New York Taylor. In a way, I suppose I’ve spent much of my time trying to reconcile the two. Or, more accurately, burying as much of the old me as I can without losing it completely.
That article describes a cafe full of people on iPods and computers, and says that in Seattle, “A lot of what people call socializing is really just public isolation,” and it’s so true! Meanwhile, the last time I was at the cafe with wi-fi nearest me, I met up with a friend and we ended up discussing Obama vs. Hilary with an older gentleman with white hair and glasses. (Of course, conversely, it had to close because rent was too high.) People complain about talking during shows in New York, but people also move around, dance, clap their hands, scream, yell - display some kind of reaction to what they’re seeing. When I saw the Fleet Foxes last week, Robin Pecknold seemed completely overwhelmed by the positive audience response - and I’m sure it’s because Seattle crowds can be so tepid.
There are plenty of things I can’t deny. Because you have to work so darn hard for friendships there, they’re pretty long lasting. Most of my close friendships have not suffered from six years of absence. My love for Seattle sports teams and Seattle music is obviously in tact - I get outrageously happy whenever I see people wearing Mariners or Seahawks jerseys in NYC, and I still get excited when Seattle bands pass through town. It also explains a lot about the way that I get to know people, the way that I form connections - reserved, calm, collected, but a near over-sharer if you simply ask. I still get really excited about new people. I still find something alluring about the strong, silent type (only now the New Yorker in me is determined to crack them).
So many people I know talk about their hometowns with fondness or disdain, and I suppose I fall somewhere in between the two. But even though I often frame things as New York City vs. Seattle, it’s not really a battle. It’s not really about what’s better. There will never be a replacement for driving on the viaduct late at night with my windows open, for walking through the Pike Place Market, for going to Kerry Park late at night and seeing the city all lit up, for walking down Broadway, for a burger from Dick’s, for nachos at Bimbo’s (even if they changed their name, fuckers). Just like there will never be a replacement for walking through Prospect Park, for hearing jazz wafting down the street at the strangest times of day, for making friends on the subway, for fighting with assholes at Yankee Stadium, for the access to culture here that’s unparallelled anywhere else. Seattle has my past. New York City has my present. So, I guess you could say, for my birthday this year, I’m taking a time machine.