I’m Beth. I’m a wife, and mom of two. A New York singer/actress turned LA stay-at-home-mom, part-time music teacher, and full-time apartment manager. Whew! My life is busy but full in the best way. In my tiny bit of spare time I sneak in a few pilates classes, like to cook, wish I could travel more, enjoy a good girls night out, and love spending summer on the beach with my family. Thanks to my friend Kage, for asking me to post today on a topic so near and dear to my heart, and who I am.
I Heart New York – A True Love Story
By Beth Tait
A lot of wonderful things happened to me in the four years I lived in the city. I got a few really great auditions and acting jobs, I joined the church, , got engaged and married. But by the time those things happened New York City and I were old friends. We had been around the block and then some. When I first moved there I was in love… like head-over-heels, googly-eyed IN LOVE. I was twenty two, single, and living with my best girlfriend. I couldn’t get enough of Times Square, Broadway marquis, shopping in SoHo, strolling through Central Park, and any other quintessential New York City must-do you can think of. Even standing in loooong lines for Broadway auditions seemed romantic. Then New York started showing me her true self. And oh, it was ugly. It was smelly, dirty, grimy, rude, old, broke-down. She tested me. “Do you still love me now?”. She tore me down and built me up, and when I came up – boy, was I up! Stronger than ever. More confident, bolder, tougher, smarter, better. Just better. Because of her. Here is a little of what she taught me, I’d like to say in the first year, but it was probably more like the first month (because that’s how fast you get to know her):
Don’t be ashamed to have a good cry in public.
You don’t always have to say I’m sorry.
You can fight for your money back.
How to finagle a good bargain.
How to find your way back from who-knows-where (name your favorite New York City burough) because you’ve been talking to your roommate on the subway instead of paying attention to which stop you’re at.
No talking on the subway.
It’s okay to work your butt off for what you love, even if that oftentimes means you feel like you’re getting the &%$ kicked out you.
How to survive the craziest jobs, like temping on Wall Street, waiting tables in Manhattan, and coat checking at the Metropolitan Opera House (still one of my favorite jobs to this day).
How to find the cheapest seats on Broadway.
It’s okay to date silly guys, especially those that wine and dine you all around New York, (just don’t be surprised when you’re doing the NYCPC over said silly guys – sometimes its inevitable).
How to pack and carry at least four different outfits (including shoes) from Astoria, Queens to anywhere Manhattan for auditions, dance class, work, because there’s no way you’re making it home before midnight.
How to hold your own in a fight with a NYC cabbie who’s trying to take you the long way home.
How to ignore cat-calls, and umm… exhibitionists (I’ll just leave it at that).
You can find your cell phone after leaving it in a New York City taxi cab.
Assume the best of people, including those who couldn’t be more different from you.
How to be happiest with the smallest amount of things, in the tiniest apartment, with pennies in your bank account because you’re in love – with life, your friends, yourself (including all bumps and bruises), and a lot of this made possible with help from your city.
Oh… and you can do ANYTHING.
After four years I did leave. That was the right decision for me, and I could write another love story about Los Angeles (even though that would be a way different story entirely). I have been lucky enough to visit New York at least once a year since I left, and dream of taking my kids there, and of all the adventures we’ll have. I may not have been a lifer, but I am definitely a lover, and I think New York City knows that. She tests you when she meets you, but once she knows you’re a lover (in spite of the good, bad and ugly) – she’s yours. For life. And she let’s you claim the title of New Yorker.
Beth Blogs Here.