Doormen
“A Baby New Yorker: A baby New Yorker is someone who was born and raised in New York City, and has lived here from baby to adult hood. (this is not an official term, yet)”
Ahh doormen, and women; however, in this specific instance I’m talking about the doormen I grew up with. I was born and raised in New York City, and I’ve lived in the same apartment my whole life (except for when I moved to Canada for a year and then Nashville). Residential doormen can be a foreign concept to most, because most people think that doormen only exist in hotels. Yes, having doormen makes us baby New Yorkers seem like we can’t even open our own doors. Doormen are so much more than just the gate keepers, they are an extension of our family. They’ve been through it all with us, they’ve found cabs for our pregnant moms, and were the first strangers we met coming home from the hospital. They see us off to our first day of school, until our last day. They dressed up as Santa Clause for Christmas. When I was little my family was renting a little cottage in Connecticut and while my mom would get the car the doorman, at the time, would watch us run around the lobby in our diapers. He would bring us behind the concierge desk and draw us as cartoon characters, I still have the drawings, and the day he retired I gave him a hug and cried in the elevator. I remember when I was little one of our doormen was retiring and that was the first time I realized, that it’s a job, that they come to my home (the building) and that one day they leave. We see these men everyday of our lives and we forget that it’s a job, that one day they retire, that one day they won’t be there when we walk out of the elevator. They do so much more than sign for our packages, open our doors and let the mail man in. They are a crucial piece of our lives. It’s been the little things like welcoming us home, that we remember. I don’t know if they know how much we truly appreciate them, that we look forward to seeing them in the lobby and that we wonder if they’re okay, if we haven’t seen them in a while. They make us feel safe and taken care of. If my mom left me home alone I knew that no one could get past the guys downstairs. Looking back, we see our doormen for an average of maybe 8 mins a day, but it’s all the things they didn’t have to do that I remember. When my sisters were little and the doorman would carry their sleeping bodies out of the car and up to the apartment, on Sunday nights. When they would help pack and unpack the car, on Friday and Sunday nights. When my mom went into the hospital and they asked if she was okay. When our father moved out and they asked if we were okay. When they congratulated me on passing my driver’s test, on graduating high school. They might not remember all of this, but, us baby New Yorkers, we remember. They’ve watched us grow up. To those who’ve left, you are still family, and to the new guys, you will be. Thank you, from all of us baby New Yorkers.
(Visual aide to help you understand, just how much we cherish our doormen, watch Season 1 Episode 1 of Modern Love on Amazon Prime).