Sometimes it seems like the world is winking at you. I’ll explain.
Three years ago I moved from Seattle to Bozeman, Montana. The landscape was surreal; it’s not hard to understand why they call it Big Sky Country. Bozeman is in a high valley surrounded by five mountain ranges, one of which (the Gallatin Range) includes the sublime Spanish Peaks, the American West’s take on the Swiss Alps. Spanish Creek cuts right through the valley below, which encompasses Ted Turner’s Flying D ranch, home to his private herd of bison. Shortly after moving to Montana, I went for a hike along Spanish Creek. En route to the trailhead we passed through Ted’s rugged estate and marveled at the scene—buffalo roaming across undulating prairie, framed through a filter of October afternoon light. I captured it as best I could in a photograph framed on the wall next to my bed. But photo or not, it is a moment in time I will remember forever.
Fast forward to the present. I live and work in Manhattan, about as far away from Montana as you can get—if not in terms of states, then in state of mind (although it should be noted that Manhattan, Montana is a mere 19 miles from Bozeman). As readily apparent as Montana’s moniker is, the Big Apple is perhaps even more so. For the first two months after I moved here, I woke everyday with the same thought, “I can’t believe I live in New York City.” It is larger than life, the real deal, the big shebang. There are so many people, so many buildings, so much to learn, and do, and see. You can’t explain it—you just feel it.
Earlier this year I was eating my lunch across the street from the Time Inc. building in midtown, where I work. Time Inc.’s parent company is TimeWarner, which also owns the Turner media properties. As I wove through taxis and town cars to return to work, I emerged to find a mural of the very same photo I have hanging on my wall, plastered across the windows on the first floor. The writing next to it read “The Big Sky comes to the Big Apple-Ted’s Montana Steakhouse Opening Fall 2006.”
It was as if that scene was an old friend who had followed me here, across time and space. Amidst all the noise and activity, it whispered, “I knew I’d find you here. I knew all along this was where you’d end up.” I know it’s just a matter of simple coincidence (or perhaps the ubiquity of Turner?). But it’s much more fun to believe I’ve been given a glimpse behind the curtain.
