Who counts as an Upper West Sider? Humans? Obviously. Rats? Unfortunately. Roaches, raccoons, pigeons? Yes, yes, yes. But a snake?

The statue witnessed the blast at close range, well within the zone of destruction. Yet miraculously, it remained intact.

My groggy faith in humanity needed more moments like this. The problem is, they're rarely the loudest stories in the room.

The mind is a curious thing — it’s a struggle to keep it in nothing mode, especially with the amusement parks we carry in our pockets.

Getting home is just one of many things that can turn into an epic journey. After all, we’re living in New York City.

Just like we’re obsessed with functional waters today, 19th-century New Yorkers were chasing the promise of water as medicine.

Today feels like the perfect day to celebrate staycations as an act of independence from autopilot.

If you’re the UWSer missing this fabulous shopping list, please reveal yourself. We’d love to know what was for dinner.

Cyrus Clark had such a huge impact on our neighborhood that history remembers him as the “Father of the Upper West Side.”

There are days the city plays with me a little too passionately. It’s fine. Until it’s not, and a fuse blows.

For those of us raised on different transportation traditions, the idea that not every place is walkable can be difficult to grasp.

I had a perfect route through Trader Joe’s on 72nd Street, and without it, I’m not sure I’ll remember half the things I need.

We don’t have to go all the way back to Shakespeare to enjoy the art of ruining your life for love.

Two hundred pedigreed sheep were imported from England, all the same color and size, to complete a picture-perfect pastoral scene.

The thing about “bikers” is how quickly they turn back into people once you actually look at them.

The whole corner looked like a million bucks. The whole neighborhood does. And our apartments are priced accordingly.

If you leave your house, you’ll pass a dozen trees and probably not register a single one. Still, they have our backs.

With every swing, I feel a pang of guilt. Am I taking up space for too long? What’s the etiquette here?

Where West 96th Street bustles today, a brook once babbled.

Cherry blossoms and magnolias bloom in happy-making shades of pink in front of the magnificent apartment buildings on Central Park West.