Tim Gunn and I Marvel at Our Place in the World
On Sunday, Marley and I drove upstate and then came home in the same day, just as the sun was setting and hitting the skyline of Manhattan in rose-gold light. The deep velvet blue sky was in the back, and I got washed over with joy. Marley was driving; I poked him to look quickly while wiping tears off of my chin.
I live here. This city is my home.
Back at my apartment I read my favorite parts of the Times. Tim Gunn – one of the people I aspire to be like as I grow older; I haven’t met him, but the kindness he exudes is so obviously genuine anyway – talked about his Sunday rituals which involve a trip to the Met. He’s been a member since 1985. (In 1985 he was my age.)
This quote from him stood out:
I’m particularly struck by it on Sundays: How lucky am I to live here, how lucky am I to be in this fantastic city filled with riches, how lucky am I to have this surreal life? I’m just blessed, and I’m very cognizant of it.
Me too, Mr. Gunn.