I was competely crushed last week to discover that the Hometown Hotel - the house I grew up in (photo 1) - was finally bulldozed. Every time I go back, I park by the old house and sit for a few minutes, looking at the tree over the pond where as a tyke I took one of my dad's guitars and learned how to play. And at the fireplace in the back where we would sit out at night with famliy and friends, and sometimes just sleep out there.
Some years after I left home, my folks were finally able to buy a house. WhIle it wasn't "my" house, since they left us I have been taking care of it, like watering a flower they left behind, and watching it blossom. (photo 2).
I would say the stark comparison between the two domiciles represents some progress, woulcn't you? Lesson...always cherish your memories, but then get in the car, get out of there, and move forward (is NYC forward?!). Your humble beginnings can define you, but don't let them CONFINE you - into thinking that's all you deserve or all you'll ever be.