Waiting at an Empty Storefront

In which I admit, out loud, something that is scary.

Hello to you. It was nice weather in NYC today. (There. Now that’s out of the way.)

I am continuing on with the subscription donation project. For February and March, the organization is the MENA Arts Advocacy Coalition. If you are new here (welcome!) or need a refresher, you can always find more details on the project on my About page.

I have also decided to extend the paid subscription discount offer! Paid subscriptions are 10% off for the whole next year as a celebration for NYC Decade-aversary. If you want to upgrade, between now and August is a great time.

It’s also also always a great time to share the newsletter. A nice day in NYC means a nice day to share.

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A day, in early March, that is sunny and 65° is practically begging for a walk. I don’t usually cave to begging but today, it was too nice to resist. 

When I want a leisurely and familiar walk, I usually go in the general direction of Socrates Sculpture Park. It’s about a mile and a half from my apartment, right on the East River, and is usually the exact breath of fresh air I need. 

No matter what route I take down to the park, I walk streets I’ve walked hundreds of times, past buildings and business and restaurants I’ve glanced at just as many times. It’s sort of a crap shoot of what I’ll notice on any given day. There are, after all, so many people and so many things to run my eyes over. I mean…that’s basically what the purpose of a walk is.

Today, my eyes lingered on a particular location a little bit longer than anything else. It’s a spot where a new restaurant is going in; a spot that, in the years I’ve been walking by, has gone through no less than two previous restaurants. At least as far as I’ve noticed. It’s going in at a spot that some people on an Astoria Rumor Mill reddit board call ‘cursed’ because nothing ever seems to last that long. 

A new restaurant isn’t surprising, of course. Restaurants that don’t last very long are also not particularly surprising. What surprised me is what immediately jumped into my brain: one of the most heart rending episodes, possibly ever, of tv.

Twist or no twist, she’s here with a dash of melancholy. (No twist.)

Futurama is an adult animation show that originally ran, off-and-on, from 1999 to 2013. (In 2023, it was rebooted on Hulu and is ongoing.) The general conceit of the show is based around Fry, a pizza delivery boy from 1999 who, when delivering a pizza to a cryogenics lab, is accidentally frozen for 1000 years. This sci-fi cartoon takes place in 2999 and on, with Fry once again being a delivery boy, but this time for an interplanetary delivery service. Hilarity ensues when he has to figure out all the new and different things of the future. 

I can’t say I watched Futurama all that consistently but I do remember seeing quite a bit of it. It was funny and, like all good art, surprisingly poignant at times—which is why it contains at least one episode that is tear-inducing. 

Jurassic Bark, episode 2 of season 5, is what jumped to my mind upon seeing a new restaurant in an old location. (Here come spoilers, if that matters to you.) In it, Fry stumbles upon the fossilized remains of his old dog. Fry manages to procure these remains, finds out he can clone his dog with old memories in tact, and decides to bring his old friend back into the world. When he finds out, however, that his dog lived 12 years after his disappearance, he decides not to disrupt the full life Seymour (Asses) had without him. What Fry doesn’t know is that Seymour waited for him outside the pizza parlor he delivered for for those 12 years, never moving from that spot. In storytelling that is not often seen in these kinds of cartoons, the last images of the episode are Seymour waiting until the end.

Those last images are exactly why so many claim that you will cry. I’m tearing up now just thinking about it. The episode itself is really a higher level exploration of friendship and loyalty and earns, I think, the poignancy of those final moments. (This is a pretty good oral history of that episode for context.) 

While friendship and loyalty are subjects I am infinitely interested in and often writing and talking about, those themes are not actually why that episode popped into my head. 

It’s hard to keep up with all the constant change. That aforementioned restaurant spot alone had previously been a vegan Latin restaurant and a tapas bar before starting its transition into what will become a cafe and bistro, according to the sign. Earlier in my walk, I passed by a new pizza place in a storefront that had, not that long ago, been a nail salon—a nail salon which was situated by another empty storefront. That empty storefront has been empty since before I moved to my current apartment in 2020. Honestly, I thought I saw movement in that empty storefront a time or two in the last few years. I had not considered that the nail salon would turn into a store in a completely different industry before the empty storefront became something. I had not considered correctly. 

The nature of business is change, I would say. Particularly, with recovery in and from the pandemic ongoing, change feels more predictable than stability in many aspects of life. There are whole stories of businesses—and lives, in general—being written around us. Stories that, outside of our primary orbit, the closest we get to is being a periphery character, a blip in the longer novel, an incidental in the work. Honestly, I like that. I don’t want to be a big character in everyone’s story. That sounds exhausting.

But, I think, the reason why Fry’s dog waiting through the seasons, the years, watching people grow as they pass by popped into my head is because that’s how I’ve been feeling. Like Seymour (a dog). A being that is in a state of constantly waiting for something to change.

I was relatively determined to avoid writing about unemployment this week because, you know, broken record, there are other things to talk about, I want to take a break from thinking about it, etc. etc. But, I feel like I have to, at least, mention that yes, unemployment is one long game of waiting on other people and/or opportunities. There, it’s mentioned. Now onto the other part of the story.

There is something that feels sort of idiosyncratic about being someone who is still pursuing a job (line of work, dream, goal, whatever) that I’ve held since childhood. The dream has morphed a bit through the years but it’s still along the same line—writing, mostly, but theatre and/or entertainment is an element as well. Sometimes, it makes me feel like an idiot. It makes me feel kind of stubborn—which may not be a bad thing but is a thing. It also makes me feel, kind of, like I am someone who is waiting and not someone who is changing. 

Part of having relationships that are meaningful and last a significant amount of time (however you define that for yourself) is that you age with and surrounded by other people. Aging is part of growing up and growing up naturally leads to change. It’s, honestly, such a pleasure to be able to witness that change. Some of my friends have stumbled into and love jobs they didn’t know existed until a few years ago. Others have really leaned into what their sort of meaningful life looks like aided by but not defined by jobs. Some have dove headfirst in hobbies that make them smile. Others have built relationships and created families that bring them joy and fulfillment. Sometimes, it’s a combination of and/or all of those things. Seeing friends and family grow in ways that bring them closer to themselves will never cease to make my heart happy. 

It’s certainly not that I haven’t done some of those things in my life. There are a lot of really important parts of and people in my life that have changed me in ways that I love. It’s that I can see the growth in many parts of my life and feel stunted in one very particular part. What I am realizing, I think, is that it can be hard to see the change while partly occupying a container, of sorts, that I found/summoned/created when I was so young. It is also hard to see the change when I’m determined to keep occupying that container.  

It’s a cognitive dissonance of sorts, I guess. I actually quite like change and I think it’s important. I like discovering who I am at every stage of my life. I also think it’s important to be flexible because you sure as hell don’t know what is coming your way. I learned that lesson young and I’ve learned it many times. But I also, artistically and career wise, can’t imagine pursuing anything else. I can’t see a world in which I am not a writer. Of course that can look like many things but it is an important part of who I am. I think for a long time, I’ve been hesitant to admit out loud just how important it is to me. Because, you know, if I haven’t said it out loud and I fail, it’s no (less) harm no (less) foul. 

Well, now, here it is in words. It doesn’t matter when I found this container or where I got it from. For me, I think, it only matters that I believe in how important it is. 

Which brings us back to new restaurants in old locations and Seymour, our cartoon dog friend waiting outside the pizza place.

After walking by that new restaurant earlier, I started to catalog all the changing and recently empty storefronts along my route. I lost track quickly. I started to marvel at the fact that, no matter what, whether you notice it or not, there is change. Whether you want it or not, there is change. And whether, in regards to yourself, it’s clear to you or not, there is change. 

The beauty of Seymour is that he is changing. He’s, at the very least, getting older—which is inherent change. He’s taking in the world around him and, day after day, both with and against the change, he trusts in where he is and continues to hope for his friend. The episode focuses on his loyalty to Fry but, I think anyway, there is an unspoken nod to the loyalty he has for himself.

What I was reminded on the way back to my house is that it’s not as simple as waiting versus changing. They aren’t mutually exclusive. Every time I have walked by that changing restaurant, I was changing too. The Samantha who walked by it when it was a vegan Latin place and the Samantha who walked by it when it was a tapas place and the Samantha who walked by it today were all different versions of me.

And tomorrow Samantha, who is still pursuing (trying to) this thing, will, at the same time, be a different person too.