Once I decided to move from Bowling Green, Ohio to New York in 1989 with no job or home, I sent away for The Guide To Temporary Housing in New York City. The YMCAs listed on its photocopied pages seemed to be the safest and cheapest options for Manhattan. I would have had more choices if I were a young lady looking for a chaperoned, Christian environment. But I was going in the opposite direction. Once I graduated, I went back to my mom’s house in Piqua to execute my escape to New York. But as the days passed, my commitment sagged like an old Mylar balloon. What seemed like my destiny in Bowling Green, felt like pending doom from the family living room. Angst paralyzed me from calling the Sloane House near Penn Station, final destination on the train I would take from Lima. Making a reservation at the Y meant making a commitment to leave everything and everyone I knew. And risking my life to a virus that had me in its crosshairs as soon as I stepped into the ...
A rewind of my coming out and coming home to New York City in 1989.