Live in New York City once but leave before it makes you hard
Live in northern California once but leave before it makes you soft
I've lived in both places. New York can make one hard but it can also give one heart and depth. People in New York aren't cold; not really. They may seem that way at first but as soon as one gets beyond the outer crust, which is a defense against the intensity, the crowds, the speed of life, the chaos . . . one finds such heart, such richness, closeness, softness, kindness. Sincerity too.
Didn't spend enough time in California to really get to know it well. Just a couple of years in the mid 80s and, at the time, it seemed like people cared mainly about the car you drove, the clothes you wore, that sort of thing. But there's another dimension to life in the west, more generally. I've lived many years in Arizona and the Pacific Northwest. I find that people invest, on the west coast, in creating richness in their personal environment (if they can afford it). So the houses are nicer, the kitchens and bathrooms fancier. An east coaster might see it as shallow but I no longer think that. It's just a different value system -- one that values beauty, one that values a certain kind of refinement.
I've spent time in many cultures. I find things I like (or love) about all of them (and challenges too). I'm not sure if it's a gift -- perhaps a lack of groundedness -- but whenever I'm in a culture for a while, it begins to rub off on me and I get insight into what it's like to be a part of that place. So when I spend time in Paris, I came to appreciate street art, a long drawn out meal. Anything that didn't get done today would get done tomorrow. A far cry from my native New York City, where everything was about efficiency most of all. Coming back to the U.S., for a time I felt like a foreigner and saw American culture through their lens. In the airports on my way home, Americans seemed like bees -- buzzing about this, about that. About what they do for a living, what they're up to, the project they're working on, their next project. I thought it very strange because it seemed they were missing out on now. Of course, before long I was back in American culture and it was just water to the fish.
I'm not saying France is better. Each culture has its strengths and weaknesses. Which one we like says (at least) as much about us as it does about the culture. I particularly enjoyed Slavic cultures. But then maybe that makes sense, given that all four of my grandparents were born in that part of the world -- in Poland, in Russia, in Ukraine, depending on the date and where the borders were drawn at the time. I find Slavic people so full of life, so idealistic, so heartfelt, so tragic. As a Jew, I was taught to fear those places. I was taught that if I ever went there, it would be like going into the heart of darkness and people would skin me alive if they knew I was a Jew. In fact, what I experienced was very much the opposite. So much warmth and kindness, so much care and generosity. It blew me away because we Americans aren't like that except with family and close friends. There, people will meet you and immediately want to share what they have, no matter how meager. If you need, they'll give you the shirts off their backs -- literally. Of course, if they're angry, they'll express that too. They have high standards and expect much of others. They're madly romantic and can become deeply cynical. They revere education, cultural literacy, refinement and justice. In a way I felt they were more Jewish than we New York Jews were. It was shocking but then I thought about it and realized that having come up from a family who immigrated from that region, it was no wonder I felt so at home there.
