2008 Woodie Awards
First Person: If I Can Make It There ...
Kendra Hartmann
Issue date: 5/19/04 Section: The Back Page
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I hadn't considered being sad about moving to New York until I boarded the plane. The thought hadn't even crossed my mind. I was going to the city for a two-month intensive dance program at the Joffrey Ballet School and the only emotions I had experienced so far were euphoria and a sort of exhilarated obliviousness. I had no idea what I was getting myself into.
But then I turned on the Walkman my sister lent me. She had placed a tape inside and gave me explicit instructions to not listen to it until the plane was taking off. And so, as soon as we taxied onto the runway, I pressed 'play'. Immediately, the voices of Peter, Paul and Mary singing "Leaving on a Jet Plane" flooded my ears. It was my sister's and my song.
That's when I lost it. I suddenly realized that at 17, I was leaving my parents' home for the first time. I would be without the comforts of everything I had known my whole life for an entire two months. To make matters worse, I wouldn't know a single soul in the great city of Manhattan. I began to sob as the plane took off, Peter, Paul and Mary still bellowing in my ears.
When the plane landed at Newark Airport, was more composed, but retained a certain amount of apprehension about my impending adventure. I managed to find my way onto the right subway, which took me into the city and, after changing trains at Grand Central Station, I arrived at the Park and 23rd station. After dragging my luggage for a few blocks, I happened upon Gramercy Park, a pretty little oasis with an ornate wrought iron gate - the last private park in the city. Only the residents who lived around the park had keys to it. This was where I was to reside for these two months: 18 Gramercy Park South, an all-women's residence.
Upon receiving a short tour, I was shown to my 'apartment'. It was actually a cell the size of a respectable walk-in closet with a bed, dresser, and a tiny bathroom I could barely turn around in. The window had a lovely view of the brick wall and the windows of the apartments across the way. Nevertheless, it was the first space that was only mine, not my parents and I had a growing feeling of triumphant adulthood as I gazed proudly at my little room.
But then I turned on the Walkman my sister lent me. She had placed a tape inside and gave me explicit instructions to not listen to it until the plane was taking off. And so, as soon as we taxied onto the runway, I pressed 'play'. Immediately, the voices of Peter, Paul and Mary singing "Leaving on a Jet Plane" flooded my ears. It was my sister's and my song.
That's when I lost it. I suddenly realized that at 17, I was leaving my parents' home for the first time. I would be without the comforts of everything I had known my whole life for an entire two months. To make matters worse, I wouldn't know a single soul in the great city of Manhattan. I began to sob as the plane took off, Peter, Paul and Mary still bellowing in my ears.
When the plane landed at Newark Airport, was more composed, but retained a certain amount of apprehension about my impending adventure. I managed to find my way onto the right subway, which took me into the city and, after changing trains at Grand Central Station, I arrived at the Park and 23rd station. After dragging my luggage for a few blocks, I happened upon Gramercy Park, a pretty little oasis with an ornate wrought iron gate - the last private park in the city. Only the residents who lived around the park had keys to it. This was where I was to reside for these two months: 18 Gramercy Park South, an all-women's residence.
Upon receiving a short tour, I was shown to my 'apartment'. It was actually a cell the size of a respectable walk-in closet with a bed, dresser, and a tiny bathroom I could barely turn around in. The window had a lovely view of the brick wall and the windows of the apartments across the way. Nevertheless, it was the first space that was only mine, not my parents and I had a growing feeling of triumphant adulthood as I gazed proudly at my little room.
