The State of Brooklyn

Some identities come and go with time. I've managed largely to let go of my sense of myself as a kid who grew up in New Jersey. Even my sense of myself as a transplanted Midwesterner dried up after a while in New York--except when I was appalled by how brazenly New Yorkers discussed money and real estate.

But I am beginning to suspect my identity as a Brooklynite may be permanent.

That identity was not one I ever thought I would really stumble into. After I graduated from college and started looking for work in New York, I had no intention of leaving the borough of Manhattan. And yet, as soon as I found my first job in New York, I immediately started looking to get out of the rathole I then inhabited in Washington Heights, and set my sites on Brooklyn. I had taken the 2/3 line to the "borough of homes and churches" and, charmed by what I saw of Brooklyn Heights, quickly decided Brooklyn would be my next home.

At the time, I told myself I was moving to Brooklyn because it was cheaper than Manhattan, and it was--slightly. Over time, however, I realized I had moved off of the all-holy island of Manhattan because I wanted to explore new territory. It was the beginning of the wanderlust that led me to Taiwan and that has now led me to Moscow.

Yet my sense of myself as a Brooklynite has popped up at least twice since leaving New York. When I called the synagogue in Taipei to inquire about services, I was asked where I hailed from.

"Brooklyn," I said.

"Ah--the State of Brooklyn!" the voice at the other end said.

Here in Moscow, I have also encountered my Brooklyn identity. At Chabad, I briefly got into a conversation with someone who, once again, asked where I was from. This led to a longer conversation on, of all things, the merits of real estate in various Brooklyn neighborhoods.

If, on leaving New York, I hoped to escape New York real estate conversations, those hopes have now been fully dashed.

It's hard not to look back on Brooklyn with a bit of wistfulness. In my mind, I know I had to leave, at least for a while. I had been suffering from wanderlust for a long time. My life in New York was not working; I had been out of work for over a year and had no job prospects to speak of. Even if I hadn't been running out of money, I would have needed to get this need to see the world out of my system.

But I think a lot about coming back when my time in Moscow ends. There is a great dual-degree program between New York University and Long Island University that would lead me to a career as an academic librarian. I think this, finally, is the work I've been looking for since I left school. It would give me time to pursue my writing and other interests, and give me work where I felt I was helping people. The more I look into this field, the more it seems like the right path for me.

I can see myself coming back to New York for this program and settling, once again, in Brooklyn. I have had fantasies for some time of moving to Prospect Heights, a lovely brownstone neighborhood that has become a refuge for people priced out of Park Slope. Finally, that seems possible.

The challenge for now is not to let this vision cause me problems in Moscow. I am grateful to be here, and love what I see of Moscow. But it's hard not to think about my future, about establishing a career in the United States. The constant talk of fellow teachers about getting a "proper job" back home in the States, in England, or in Australia doesn't help. So I will struggle not to let Brooklyn intrude too much into my thoughts.

But I remain in a Brooklyn state of mind.