Locking Eyes with Columbus

There I was, grazing my hand along the robe of Christopher Columbus.

            My children had suggested that for my birthday we meet for dinner in Manhattan. That sounded like any other birthday; shouldn’t we do something special? That’s what I wanted to say, at least.

            I didn’t need a banquet in my honor, but it felt like my 60 years, which had passed in ebbs and flows like wind and waves, should be marked with something special. And they were, because I met Columbus.

While New York City was celebrating the 120th anniversary of it Columbus statue, I celebrated my own milestone.

The southwest corner of Central Park is known as Columbus Circle because of this statue. Even Mayor Michael Bloomberg, who lived in New York for five decades, confessed that he had rarely ever looked up at it. Most New Yorkers would probably say the same thing. In the countless times that I passed through the busy intersection, I never felt the urge to stop and consider the figure in the middle. I just lumped it in with all the other statues around the city.

This statue, that so many people had ignored, became the subject of sudden interest because of Tatsu Nishi, the Japanese artist who created the installation called “Discovering Columbus.”

After standing up high for over 100 years — in the snow, rain and wind — Mr. Columbus for the first time found himself in a warm home, a cozy living room. Once lonely atop his towering column, he was now being continuously sought out by visitors. Even after purchasing our tickets online, we had to endure a long, snaking line before climbing the temporary stairs and entering the room Nishi had built.

With a coffee table covered in magazines, a plush sofa, and a television set, it was like any other American living room. But in the center of it stood Columbus, enormous and proud — a truly extraordinary sight.

Paying no attention to the people crowding his room, Columbus stared into the distance. Can you see the land on the far end of ocean? As I approached closer, I noticed the sharp gaze of his eyes puncturing his concrete expression.

Those eyes discovered America.

Columbus landed on these shores in 1492. Almost 500 years later, in 1982, I landed in New York. In 1952, 60 years after the statue of Columbus was erected, I was born, and today, exactly 60 years later, I was standing in front of him.

When I rested my hand on his robe, I sensed through my fingers that this was a new land for us both. And, in a way, it was thanks to him that I was able to be here. Because I was born in the same season as Columbus Day, I was able to view this exhibition on my birthday. Nishi, it turned out, was the same age as me.

These connections felt predestined.

After descending the stairs, we walked across the street to have dinner at an Italian restaurant inside the Time Warner Center. Sitting there, we could still see the lights in Columbus’ living room outside. It felt grander than receiving bows at a traditional banquet table.

To me, Columbus is no longer just a gray statue. He and I are now acquaintances. Though I doubt I will look into his piercing eyes again, we will always be connected. Now, whenever I pass through Columbus Circle, I lift my eyes to see him. He is still staring at the land on the far end of the ocean. What are you looking for? If not for you, would I be here now?

I look up with a glint in my eye.