Peakin in Beacon

Last week I finished my summer-long internship at the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum / Foundation. The summer, for me, was mostly spent riding trains. My roundtrip commute was about four hours daily and at times I felt really sad that I was not experiencing some of the things it seemed my fellow interns had. At six I was out the door, running to the subway to make sure I didn't miss my connecting train at Penn Station. I did not socialize much outside of the office, not because I didn't like everyone I met but because I got home around 8:00 PM or after, had to find time to eat, study for the GRE and go to bed. I was reminded of my life before I went back to school. Some people have tried to say "yes Jackie, welcome to the real world." I think some of them have forgotten that I didn't start college until I was 26 years old. Real world? I've already lived the real world of working to survive, scraping pennies to buy my dying mother cancer medication, waking up and going to bed in a life like Bill Murray's in Groundhog's Day. I lived a daily life of little respect where I felt inadequate from my co-workers and longed to push myself academically and grow as a woman and human. I have done all of these things and more and the recent experiences I have are surely why I ever got an opportunity to intern at the esteemed Guggenheim Museum in the first place. I still feel honored to have been part of the amazing organization but saddened that I was not living closer to my office.

As I left my last day in the office on Thursday all of these emotions came over me. I couldn't believe it was over and I wanted to feel more and learn more. The next day we were to go to Dia Beacon, upstate in a section I once knew in my life before the age of eleven. Growing up in Putnam County, my concerned yet misguided mother insisted that the public schools were not good and chose to send my sister and I to private school (big mistake financially) in Yorktown Heights. My friends came from all over including surrounded towns and Peakskill, Mahopac, Poughkeepsie, Fishkill, etc. We were to arrive at Grand Central Station and meet by the information clock by 8:30 AM. This meant I was on a 6:30 AM train out of Long Island. Even so, I missed the train by one minute! Instead, I had to wait and travel the MetroNorth by myself an hour later. During the train ride I gazed out the window following the Hudson River Valley as memories from my childhood filled my vision. I remembered birthday parties from kindergarten, nature walks with my mother, and back to school shopping trips for navy penny loafers. I couldn't help but feel that my life had come full circle. Also, I had never understood why my parents moved us out there. We had no family there and they both seemed to hate each other growing up so I resented upstate and saw it as a barrier separating ourselves from the life of Manhattan or my family in Fairfield County. Now, I was on my journey to say goodbye to a community of friends and peers that I grew to know as other art and museum guru's and thank the Guggenheim for this experience. I was carrying the passion of art my mother passed on me and the memories of all the museums she took me to. I started to wonder what she would have said if I could have called her on the phone to tell her I was working for them. I don't think pride would even begin to sum up the way she would have felt.

Later... (I'll tell you later).