Coming full circle

In 1970  I began my undergraduate studies at New York University and  a few years later I moved into a one-floor walk-up on 14th Street between 1st and 2nd Avenue.  Today I am a visiting student for 3 weeks living in a dorm on 14th Street between 3rd and 4th.  I have come full circle.  In my introduction to my classmates I mentioned the 41 year gap which resulted in the only applause of the morning - it is a safe bet that I am the most senior student in the class! A couple of my fellow students in private conversation with me made reference to the 21 year gap - did I make a Freudian slip and knock 20 years off?

My return to student life fulfills a gap in my education  - living in a dorm. My room is single, small, sparse and the walls are scarred from the many students that have come before me.  It seems as though the other rooms in my suite are vacant, so I have avoided sharing the bathrooms.   The accommodation is fine...for 3 weeks - it is functional, near to just about everything, and importantly air conditioned.  My sister and her family brought me to my dorm, and the mock tearful parting for the benefit of my adolescent nephews masked the anxiety on all our parts at being dropped off in a strange place before dorm culture and norms are clear. 

I thought I would need to re-acquaint myself with my former neighbourhood but  it is really more like re-learning.  The neighbourhood has been transformed from seedy 70's to trendy teens; the Puerto Rican groceria which was on the ground level of my former apartment building is now a high end bicycle shop; the panhandlers at Union Square have been replaced by street performers;  Gristede's is gone, and Trader Joe's competes with Whole Foods  for customers.  But the neighbourhood is still anchored by its institutions - the synagogue next to my former apartment, New York Eye and Ear  on the corner of 3rd, and Beth Israel one block over, and thankfully Vaneiro's on 11th and First, an Italian bakery which has made  the finest not too sweet but oh so rich canoli, a Sicilian pastry,  for over 100 years.

Last night I walked the High Line - the  elevated subway which ran along the West Side through the meat packing district that was saved from the brink of demolition and transformed into an elevated park which runs from about 10th Street to 30th Street.  All along the park some sign of the original subway remains - the tracks, the railroad ties, the decorative iron railings to allow us to keep one foot in the past.  Between and among these reminders  is an oasis of decorative grasses, trees, Shasta daisies, and the occasional strip of lawn; family sized wooden chaise lounges, benches of all shapes, sizes and in every orientation; the ever-present view of the Hudson River and Jersey skyline.

A delightful feature which makes a child of all ages is an adaption of the  waterfall walls -   a shallow sheet of running water shimmers in a 6 x 30 foot area with benches where people can take off their shoes and cool their hot, tired feet.  Another delight is a beautiful modernistic wood and steel sculpture - it is only when the birds arrive that I realize it is a feeding and watering stop for NYs resident birds.  

As I walk the city streets, I find myself mindful of the care and attention  given to creating green spaces wherever there is just enough room for roots to take hold - in window boxes, rooftops, planters,  2x3 plots of land that surround side street trees, and buckets tied to fire escapes!  People create and seek out nature perhaps because of the seemingly universal positive effect it has on physical and mental well-being.   New Yorkers are known to be fast walkers - but I noticed that this was not so on the High Line.  People stroll, take in the sights and sounds, talk in pairs and groups, lounge... it is as if being surrounded by nature gives permission even to driven and uptight New Yorkers to relax, restore, re-connect.

The program which brought me to New York is truly a global classroom - there are students from Uganda, Zimbabwe, Cote D'Ivoire, Nigeria, DRC, Botswana,  the new North Sudan, Ghana, Nigeria, Egypt and a good sized contingent from Mozambique.  There are also students from Tajikistan, Kazakhstan, Mongolia, Laos, Cambodia, Myanmar and Timor-Leste.   There are also students from Spain, Russia, Sweden, Scotland, Finland, USA, Italy, and Denmark working in the developing world, and many others - 38 in total.  Their interest span the range of public health - from maternal and reproductive health and violence against women and children to HIV and TB.  It is as if the interests of my classmates span by professional history.   Standing out from the crowd of health professionals and community development specialists is a student from Brazil who is interested in mitigating the negative social impact of oil and gas development in Southern Brazil (? relevance to mining in Yukon), and a journalist from Scotland who is with a UN Peace Keeping mission in East Timor.  Most work for UN agencies (I am struggling to keep up with the acronyms) or NGOs (e.g., Project Hope). 

The breadth and depth of experience, and the circumstances in which fellow students live and work is humbling.  Today in a small group discussion, I learned about  preventing significant disease and injury associated with leprosy from Sunday, a student from Nigeria, if those who are newly diagnosed would inspect, soak and lubricate their feet once a day, and wear soft insoles. This is easier said than done as only 20% of persons with leprosy engage in self-care now.  And this is but one of example of the reason for our course: to figure out all the factors which influence behaviours like foot self-care, determine the potential role of a communication plan, and then create plan which results in the desired behavioural impact.


Our instructor's unique education and experience in communications, psychology, marketing and business administration, and his talent for story telling makes the class lively and provocative. I would have described him as charasmatic, but his self-description is equally apt: "charming and arrogant."

Yesterday I was reminded that the average American couple spends only 7 minutes per day in conversation, mostly in short 3-5 second sound bites (e.g., Good morning, dear; can you pick up the kids today?; it's been a long day; dinner is great).   How can we possibly think that we promote family planning, negotiations on condom use, healthy child rearing practices which require intimate and lengthy discussion on a base of 7 minutes per day? 

Cheers from NYC!