All of this is horribly sad. A gas explosion and massive fire obliterated part of an east village block earlier this week, leaving dozens homeless or injured, and two missing. I am completely fine, so my feelings of loss are only superficial, not comparable in any way to those who have been displaced or lost businesses or, worse yet, are still awaiting news about missing loved ones.
But this neighborhood has been the center of my universe for most of my New York life, and I think the same is true for many of my friends. My first apartment was two blocks down Second Avenue, between 4th & 5th, right above what was then the Sizzling Szechuan restaurant. It was considerably less polished back then - a perpetually drunk guy used to stand outside our gate with bottle in hand, so we referred to him as Joey the Doorman.
It's impossible to know the number of times I have trekked up and down these blocks. Whatever I happen to be doing on any given day, at some point I usually end up walking the same path down Second Avenue and branching out to its surrounding streets. So many memories of late night tacos at San Loco, lunch with Sean and my visiting mom and sister across the street at Virage, sitting at Stage Restaurant's narrow counter while waiting for take-out mashed potatoes. The block is filled with places like that - a few of these that remain were opposite the blast and are still around, but several others were not so lucky.
Many continue to write about one of New York's most beloved stores: Love Saves the Day. It formerly occupied the corner of 7th Street and despite its closing a few years ago, it's clear that love ran deep. Many have also noted its notoriety due to a famous scene in "Desperately Seeking Susan" having been filmed there. It was filled with vintage toys and clothing, copies of Life Magazine, bubblegum cards and cat eye sunglasses. I wandered in there my first week in New York and happily lingered over every display. Sitting on a pedestal jammed among the clothing racks was a huge ceramic lion head wearing a crown. To my horror, after I was about two feet past, the damn thing fell off the pedestal and crashed to the floor. I swear I didn't touch it or bump it or even breathe on it, but there it lay nonetheless. The guy at the counter - I'm drawing a blank on his name but he was always there - looked me over and must have seen I was a newbie because he took pity on me and didn't say a word. I was scared for months to go back in, but eventually I did and it became one of my regular haunts.
Now that corner of the block is completely gone.
It's easy to lament the changing face of the neighborhood in the last few years, but it's still pretty great. I wouldn't trade it for anything. New Yorkers always do right by their neighbors in times like this, and I'm sure that will be the case again. It's just difficult to process yet another black hole where something beautiful stood. I wish strength to everyone affected as they put back the pieces and try to assemble some sort of life again. We're with ya. xo
I'm still trying to find the best way to help or contribute, but if you are so inclined please check out these options: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2015/03/27/how-to-help-east-village-explosion-victims_n_6958006.html
Sarah Larson expressed her thoughts more eloquently than I in her New Yorker article. Worth a read: http://www.newyorker.com/culture/sarah-larson/the-east-village-fire-love-saves-the-day
Or read more here: http://evgrieve.com/
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