In ninth grade, plunged into the epicenter of metropolitan life, I stood staring at what I hoped would be my future. Actors, dressed in their finest black tie attire were departing from the 1987 Tony awards in New York City. I came to this place because my parents said yes to a field trip with my junior high school theater class. This particular point on our journey was unscripted. Luckily, one of our chaperones and unintended mentor of mine listened to his impromptu nature and took a throng of us two blocks over, where the Tony Awards were taking place. One of the legitimate attendees dropped a flyer. It was an invitation or perhaps a small poster for an after party reception. When I saw it fall to the ground, I seized it with the intention of placing it in my scrapbook alongside pictures of William Hurt, Swoozie Kurtz and John Lithgow arriving or departing from the awards. I can’t find it now.

I’m uncertain why at this point, with this many years past and subsequent trips to NYC under my belt, I feel such a sense of nostalgia about this trip. Perhaps, It is because I feel myself drifting so far away from that initial dream.

My full time work life has thrown me a curve ball in the past few weeks. Maybe it is time for me to go looking for that dream again. I’m a few days away from another trip to the Big Apple, this time with my daughter who is a senior in high school, full of the same wonder and with a mostly unscripted future in her coming years. I wonder what she will see when she visits. Will New York unlock a dream for her? I’ll check back in with you after the trip.