“Liberty
Let Go!”
That was the cryptic
headline on the cover of the New York Daily News. Rather blunt and dismissive,
but to the point and that is how I found out about the end of my career. It
felt like a punch to the gut, seriously shaking my feelings of self-worth and deflating
my ego like Spider-Man after the Thanksgiving Day Parade.
I know that December 26th
is the traditional day for returning unwanted gifts, but I don’t think that I
want to wait that long. It was rare that I received mail and considering my
celebrity status, probably why the park ranger took her time delivering it to
me. The letter was brief and to the point, but at least I had not been let go by
tweet. It was a beautiful day and the
line of people waiting to enter my pedestal was long. Suddenly a little girl
pointed up to me and said in a loud voice, “She got fired and doesn’t belong
here anymore!” It hurt more than I can put into words. Nobody likes the feeling
of being unwanted and the talent to give gifts that will be appreciated and
cherished is a rare one indeed. Like the party guest who overstays their
welcome and wears a hole in the welcome
mat, I had overstayed mine.
I realize now that
coming here with 214 suitcases was a little excessive, but a girl needs to have
her things – and in proper order – to feel comfortable and put together in her
new home. Well that is all in the past now and there is no use crying over spilled
dairy products as the Americans say. Living in the past makes one look like a
laughing stock. It is preferable to pack up ones belongings without any fuss
and disappear rather than turn oneself inside out changing the very core of
what you stand for to please others.
Severing off six of the
seven points on my crown, retaining only the one pointing to Europe would be
ludicrous. I would look like an asymmetrical unicorn! How absurd welcoming only
European immigrants rather than the whole world and desecrating my beautiful
diadem in the process.
Looking back now, I
guess it was rather presumptuous of me, a recent immigrant myself to take it upon
myself to welcome other immigrants to these shores. I never complained though through
those many years standing at the entrance to the harbor holding that heavy 100th
birthday tablet with my left arm and the giant torch in my right in all sorts
of weather, my arms aching in pain. It wasn’t as though I had the Colossus of
Rhodes to fill in for me on long weekends or for the occasional holiday. We
were about the same size and if he kept his feet together, Helios would have fit
on my pedestal nicely. No, it was all me 24-7-365, but enough of feeling sorry
for myself.
I will miss the
children screaming and laughing as they traverse my entrails, finally poking their
heads out of my crown to be amazed by the majesty of New York Harbor. Do you
know that they saved their pennies bringing them to school and paid for my
pedestal! Not to mention the men who
literally put me on a pedestal. I always held them in the highest regard
carrying a torch for them and all Americans. I will miss the seagulls squawking
in my ears as they search the ocean for their breakfast and the smell of
hotdogs and onions sizzling and boiling on the food trucks below my feet. The
smell of the sea in my nostrils will be hard to do without. Emma Lazarus who
wrote me such a beautiful poem will always be in my heart as will Freddy Bartholdi
who spent countless hours crafting and sculpting my beautiful gown and persona.
Who can forget Gus Eiffel who made me so strong to withstand the sea, wind and
cold of New York Harbor. I will miss the look of hope on the faces of the new
immigrants as the harbor comes into their view.
I will need a new
gown; this old thing is worn and discolored. I am not sailing into Marseille
wearing a 133 year old dress. It was once beautiful burnished copper and showed
off my figure, if I may be so bold. The new gown will cost me a fortune. I’ll
be on Super Easy Pay with QVC for the next 300 years! Just try to coordinate an
outfit with patina. Even Este Lauder has forsaken me, but don’t get me started.
My complexion was beautiful; now I look like Elphaba Throop from WICKED. I haven’t seen the show yet,
not fitting in the seats. Few of us do
these days! There are so many details before departure, what with booking a
cruise and packing alone. I am definitely downsizing on the suitcases!
Suddenly I can’t wait
to go home. It is time now to snuff out my torch, putting it and my tablet down,
and stepping carefully off this pedestal. I haven’t even seen Gus’s Eiffel
Tower yet.
France
is beautiful this time of the year.
Big Jim
Sept. 2019
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