My family was never American; we were New Yorkers. My great-grandparents came from the old country to the Lower East Side as children; they moved to Harlem and to the Bronx and there they raised my grandparents. My grandparents married and moved to Great Neck, which was not yet a Jewish suburb, where my father was born and raised. And then in their 20s my parents moved back into the city, to the Upper West Side, in the late 1960s, where a few years later I was born and raised. Until the age of 46, I’d lived in New York City almost all my life.

I adore the city and everything about it. What I love most about it, I think, was what the great Jewish New Yorker Horace Kallen called its “cultural pluralism.” New York is a vast collection of different nationalities — the greatest such collection ever assembled in one place — all living together, neighborhood by neighborhood. The City (there is only this one City) and not the soulless slab of glass and concrete jutting out of Turtle Bay, is the true United Nations.

New Yorkers hail from over 150 different nations; there are enormous populations of Dominicans, Chinese, Mexicans and Guyanese, Jamaicans, Ecuadorians, Haitians, Indians, Russians, and Trinidadians, Bangladeshis and more, blanketing the city from Arthur Avenue in the Bronx out to Flushing and down to the Rockaways. Subway signs are written in four, five, six languages; each train car some space shuttle out of Star Trek, teeming with New Yorkers of every possible complexion and dress from every corner of the globe.

So I was very moved when Mayor-elect Zohran Mamdani spoke in his acceptance speech last week of “Yemeni bodega owners and Mexican abuelas; Senegalese taxi drivers and Uzbek nurses; Trinidadian line cooks and Ethiopian aunties” all of whom, he said, had turned out to vote for him. And I was deeply moved by his vision of returning the city to its everyday, working class people, so that New York........

© The Jewish Week