Going back to my first NYC home

On Saturday, a trip to Governor’s Island was free. Last time I lived in the city, it cost me 4 years of my life in blue coveralls and a lot of haircuts.

Some things just get better with time.

To be fair though, I have fond memories of Governor’s Island back in the day. The island got me to New York in the first place, courtesy of your tax dollars. … OK, your parents’ tax dollars. (Please give them my thanks next time you call them. Tell them I appreciate the allowance back then. Sure, I guarded their coast occasionally against drugs and illegal aliens and I was always ready to brave The Perfect Storm to save a life or two, but mostly I drank and wandered around on the government’s dime.)

Anyway, Governor’s Island was a U.S. Coast Guard base until the 21st century. It would have made a great “Eat the rich” hunting preserve. Seven minutes to Wall Street, nothing but waterfront views … the ultimate gated community for titans of capitalism.

But something crazy happened. Prime real estate was turned over to the people, wrapped up in the arms of the New York City parks department – and what a lovely embrace it is. There are concerts, bike paths, a free ferry ride, art installations, green spaces, the smell of salt air and some great views. All free.

That’s the kind of thing I dreamed of when I wandered through my service to God and country with a subscription to “The Socialist Worker” delivered to the cutter I was stationed on. And now it is covered in reality.

Some things just get better.

The park is open Fridays, Saturdays and Sunday. The ferry runs every 30 minutes when the season is high. It drops to hourly at other times. You can’t miss the terminal either. From anywhere on the island, keep working your way downtown. When you run out of land, there will be a big green iron structure. That’s it.

Steve, a security guy on the island, said there are already over 150 special events planned for 2009 and there is a push to get keep the park open seven days a week and much later into the night. Last ferry off the island now is 7 p.m.

“You think this is nice,” Steve said. “Fughedaboutit! It’s gonna be great.”

(He said “fughedaboutit.” It’s not just TV. People really do talk that way in these parts. Frankly, it’s annoying; like listening to dogs bark at each other. But Steve was a good guy. He’s proud of his park, and I’m happy he’s keeping such a good eye on my old home.)