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And you don’t bring me flowers anymore
And you don’t bring me flowers anymoreNeil Diamond
My friend Margaret, who I met in New York eleven year's ago, and who has lived here virtually all her adult life, will be relocating to her home town - Perth West Australia.
Yes, I have two New York friends, both Australian expats like myself. And with Margaret leaving, shortly I will have only one.
What does one do when 50% of your friends disappear? What shall I do without Margaret, who used to visit laden with gifts, wine and daffodils and good cheer? Margaret who was the first Australian voice I heard in America when I arrived in 1994.
I was in Edmond Oklahoma. I had culture shock. The only thing similar to my home, Australia, was the colour of the place. Red earth and true blue skies. The rest of it was beyond anything I'd ever experienced. Not that I was untraveled. I'd been to seventeen countries. Afghanistan, France, London, Bangkok ... but nothing had prepared me for the culture shock I experienced when arriving in Oklahoma from Melbourne in the mid-nineties.
I remember feeling like I'd stepped into a Donald Duck comic book of my childhood. In my pre-American life I had thought that cartoons were a Disney fantasy. Never had I believed they were an accurate representation of middle America. Hewie Dewie and Louie - American realism - the kitchen sink literature of the United States. I was stunned.
I was determined to stick it out. But the days stretched on. And on and on.
One day I flipped through my address book. I had remembered that I'd been given the address of a childhood friend, shortly before leaving home. She now lived in New York. Perhaps I'd call her.
Possessed by the apathy that comes with boredom, those Oklahoma days passed by, and I put off calling my childhood friend. Those many people who have visited Edmond OK - Oklahoma "the OK State" - even the license plate slogans are half hearted in their message - will know that it has no claim to fame except ... the local Post Office.
"Going Postal" originated in Edmond. That's where the first postal-worker massacre occurred.
Edmond OK - a bundle of laughs. A church on every corner and huge American flags flying against a sky of never ending perfect blue.
Margaret and I at the Gay Games, Yankee Stadium 1994
A receptionist answered. An Australian voice. I could not believe it. "Normalcy" as they say here, descended. I had the right number. My childhood friend was in a meeting. But the receptionist, Margaret and I talked.
Well I ended up in New York. And I ended up a friend of Margaret. She showed me everything one needed to know about the city.
My son visited. Margaret took him around Hoboken bars to listen to Indie bands. When I was depressed she'd call me every few days to see how I was. When I was hopelessly organising myself to go to Australia, she came around and organised me. When I left my American lover, it was Margaret's apartment I stayed in.
Margaret introduced me to a New York that only a local can know. She knows Manhattan like the back of her hand. She has lived in New York over twice as long as I. How can she be leaving. But she is ...
My first New York friend. Half of my quota.
Godspeed Margaret. I hope Australia works out for you.
As for me, No one will bring me flowers anymore.
Till next time,
Kate Juliff
New York
March 2006