Hey NYC, What Street Should We Re-Name “Irene Cara Way”?

Perhaps sometime yesterday, Miss Irene Cara, a pure NYC Goddess and Pre-Raphaelite ingénue possessed of grace, talent, a cultivated intellect and down by law street smarts, found herself far from her Largo, Florida residence, and instead, somehow, on the “D” train, as the announcer proclaimed that she’d arrived at her destination.

She stepped out, unafraid (or at least, in keeping with her fearless grace, not showing it), as the announcer, taking to the PA again — and sounding oddly emotional — volunteered an assurance to her:

“You’re gonna live forever; everyone will remember your name.”

Finding herself where she deserved to be after an earthbound life of working hard and paying countless dues, she smiled to herself, proudly.

Here on Earth, the rest of us stopped our numbed scrolling right at the sentences with her name in them, and we just went to whatever music source we could, and sang along with her through the tears. For this Bronx son, “Out Here On My Own” is the personal anthem I had to hear immediately, though it hadn’t been such a long while since I’d last heard it. And sometimes whilst cooking, I hear her singing “Hot Lunch Jam”, and smile.

Thanks, Irene; I needed that — presently, and all those years ago.

The only questions now? What NYC street or avenue do we name after her? Where do the Tats Cru (whose first Big Pun mural I photographed on another day of unique NY heartbreak) enshrine her memorial portrait? What subway stop do we give a typographical remix to à la “Aretha Franklin Street”? My earliest thought is Carroll Gardens (I know, I know, wrong borough…but she was ALL-CITY, with an Oscar to boot) simply because the name “Cara Gardens” sounds lovely. And when does a gang of hustling NYC actors and singers re-create the performances from Fame, right there on those same streets where a young Irene Cara Escalera liberated her soul and ours, in performance? And let’s name a high school after her. By way of a curatorial suggestion, it would be great to see the TriBeCa Film Festival do a screening and stage a performance, with all invited to dance on the streets of this, our New York City.

Tomorrow, around the boroughs, many different Irene Caras will get on the train, working howsoever they can towards their dream, taking their place in life. And taking her place amidst NYC’s own holy legion of Eternal Homegirl Saints who became (and always were) stars, our very own I.C. Escalera will look upon them, and when they need it, remind them of the strength they always had. That’s what stars are for.