Town. “The Y”. Dare I say “Husker Nation." All these terms are used to define Yorktown. With many college students returning home for the summer and high school students dying to leave here, I thought I’d reflect on some things that all students from Yorktown can identify with. According to "Urban Dictionary", we are just an “Average Westchester town,” but all of those who live here know that there is way more complexity to us than that (some sarcasm here).
You will defend your favorite deli in the area until the day you die. Is it Edwin’s? Rocky’s? Or maybe even Dante’s (RIP)? Whichever is your personal fave, the people there know your order by heart and you are always a loyal and true customer.
Same goes for pizza places. For a relatively small town, having at least six pizzerias in a three-mile radius has made you into quite the pizza connoisseur. You know you have a favorite and you feel disloyal just by going near any of its competitors.
At some point in your middle school life you wanted to go “into town.” This meant wandering around aimlessly, hanging out by the gazebo and probably making at least one stop at 7/11. You’re still not sure why this sounded so fun, but you probably begged your mom to drop you off. However, she couldn’t drop you off too close because you just had to have that aura of sophistication.
You have also probably complained that there is “nothing to do in this town.” Friday night rolls around, the school week is over and you feel as though you should be living it up with your best friends. However, unless you want to go hang out in somebody’s unfinished basement, there isn’t much else to do. And so with the angst of a true teenager you shook your fist at the sky and cursed your parents for choosing to live here. But really, what were you expecting to do? Most towns aren’t any different than ours.
You know never to go into the Turco’s parking lot on any weekend morning. Between Dunkin, the bank, the dry cleaner and the supermarket that place is errand central. On any given Saturday morning there will be approximately 32 cars circling like vultures waiting to pounce on any open spot.
You’ve been to at least one lacrosse game. Of course I couldn’t leave this off the list. Either you’re a laxer yourself, an avid fan, or begrudgingly got dragged along with your friends for the Murphy Cup, you’ve most likely cheered for the Huskers lacrosse team. Whether you like it or not, lacrosse is what we are most known for and at some point we all just have to accept that.
Swinging your keys on a lanyard is practically a rite of passage. Don’t deny it, you’ve done it too. As soon as you get your license and get your hand on a pair of keys you have them strapped onto some string faster than you can say “MESMS”. The lanyard itself doesn’t serve much purpose other than to make sure everyone knows that you can, in fact, drive a car. Maybe it’s only your mom’s minivan and you can only drive between five-to-nine, but that lanyard means power.
Little Sorrento’s has the best bread. Hands down. Maybe this is some shameless promotion, but you know it’s true. Who knows what is in that stuff but you will make the drive past BJ’s just to get a few pieces of that steaming hot goodness.
Bat and Bar Mitzvahs were all the rage in middle school. They caused drama, ended friendships and started those classic seventh grade relationships where sitting together at lunch was a big date. You danced until 10 p.m. and long before the era of the whip and
"nae nae," knew the "Cupid Shuffle," Soulja Boy and Cotton Eyed Joe by heart. And of course you got super into it every time you heard “everybody clap your hands”.
Although you complain endlessly about the deteriorating quality of the JV Mall, it is always your go-to for last minute needs. It’s convenient and not too overwhelming. It might not be the best place to go on a shopping spree but it’s perfect for those gifts you forgot to pick out.
You’ve had to explain to someone that yes you are in fact a cornhusker. No it doesn’t mean we all live on farms. No, we don’t even have corn in our town anymore. Yes, our mascot is an ear of corn. But the one thing you can always hold over the haters is that the only thing worse than being a cornhusker is being beaten by a cornhusker.
No matter whether you love the Y or can’t wait to leave it, you have to admit that there are a few things we all have in common. Yorktown will always be the place you once called home.
