New York from the Rearview Mirror
I never intended to leave New York City. I had been there thirty-five years and the most recent years had been my most successful in some ways.
I certainly never expected to go back to the hometown where I grew up, a place I fled forty years before.
But the pandemic offered a perfect storm for an opportunity. Both of my jobs went online and proved to be pandemic-proof. For months on end, I was squirreling away money because I was not getting on the train, not going out for drinks after work, not going to shows or movies, and not dining in restaurants (although take-out was still going strong).
My parents, in their eighties, were ready to cede control of the lakeside cabin that I had loved for years. After negotiating a family discount with my siblings, I was in a position to buy. And while I had always hoped to have it as a seasonal and retirement place, when I ran the numbers last summer, I realized I could move in as a permanent resident of Massachusetts and, even with a car payment, still be paying less than my Brooklyn rent.
The Closing was delayed again and again, which also delayed necessary repairs and winterization. I was alone in a cold house and wondering what the hell I had gotten myself into.
As spring slowly arrives and the renovations continue, at a cost of thousands of dollars, I am more appreciative of the long-term investment. And it is finally sinking in that I own the place, so I am finding new creativity in buying home décor and furniture that will suit me for years to come.
Since I moved up here seven months ago, I have been back to New York three times, and will be back at the end of May for a recording project and maybe — fully vaccinated — a little bit of visiting with friends.
But for the most part, I am adapting to a new life. And my beloved New York is getting farther away in the rearview mirror.
If I’m being honest, I’ve now had some time to assess my thirty-five years in New York. I find myself asking, “What was that all about?”
I did so much; too much, in fact. Almost all of my memories are work-related — and by that, I mean the day jobs that took up most of my time, as well as the shows I did, the readings for my books, the cabaret classes I taught. Even at my church, I volunteered for various activities — although gospel choir was fun! I met a lot of wonderful people but I didn’t really cultivate a lot of close friendships. I am now sad about that.
The unforgiving city gave me strength and resilience I never imagined I had when I arrived there at twenty-two. Not only did I endure all the professional rejection pursuing the arts can bring, but I lived through the AIDS epidemic (barely survived), the early ’90s crime epidemic (barely survived), 9/11 and its aftermath, the recession of 2008 and beyond, the Trump years, and then the Coronavirus pandemic.
The pandemic isn’t what made me move. Those final months in Bay Ridge were a blessing in many ways — long quiet walks, dinner several times a week with my nearby best friend and then bingeing on shows or playing chess, and writing songs and playing piano with some regularity. I was finally on pause while living in the city.
New York is probably the highest-energy place on earth, and if you can thrive in that atmosphere, life can take you places. I might have felt better if my hard work and ambitions actually led to the kind of success I wanted. After a while, just being able to quit my day job would have counted as a success, but that never happened.
I have not lost any of my drive since leaving New York, but I am not yet sure where I want to channel that drive. And I’m in a place now that doesn’t demand anything from me. (New York doesn’t actually demand anything either, but I think many who move there feel guilty if they are not striving for something.)
New York will always be part of me, in my past and my future. But when I drive into the city now, I no longer get that adrenaline rush. I just appreciate it. I wish I had done so when I was there, instead of go, go, go all the time.
When I drive out of New York, it is still beautiful in the rearview mirror. But it also means I’m driving toward something else. Time will tell exactly what that is.
