We’re in! But time for a little cat nap before more unpacking.
Getting close…
A little less than 2 years ago, Tracy and I packed up a moving van and moved to New York City. On Tuesday, we will be pulling a moving van out of the city on our way back to NC. For now, we won’t focus on the details of the move. Instead, we’ll look back at our time spent in the city. I wrote a bit of a memoir piece which I share below - I hope you enjoy.
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As I rounded the corner, I found myself staring up at the sights above. This was a common occurrence for me in New York. Even after living in the city for close to two years, my eyes were inevitably drawn skyward, the monstrous structures of steel and brick just as awe inspiring and infinitely more attractive as on the day I first laid eyes on them. I noticed every detail on my daily walk to the office; it was a walk which had somehow become routine.
But then I turned and saw the sharp angles of St. Patrick’s slicing through the shadow of a neighboring skyscraper into an endless blue sky above. For a split second, I gasped. It was New York, just as I’d pictured it. Or just how I would picture it, some day in the future. For as I stared at the skyline above I was all of a sudden painfully aware of just how much I’d miss this place in a few short weeks.
The night before we had decided to move back home.
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I never intended to fall in love with the city. In fact, for years I never even opened up my mind to liking it. The place was too big, too rough around the edges, too inconvenient to even consider. Once I visited for work and rode the subway and laughed at the masses all dressed in dark suits silently riding with eyes cast downward. They were robotic in their precise daily movements designed to minimize interaction with others on the way to a job which no doubt consumed everything in them.
But then we came, and I joined the masses and I became a part of the rhythmic ritual which is the daily work commute. Before long I realized that there is a subtle harmony to the movements, perhaps not perceivable to the outsider, but which carry a beauty, however brusque, to those involved.
Underground, there is silence and the eyes do avoid each other; some choose to focus on the news while others immerse themselves in the sounds flowing through their earbuds. But then your stop comes and you emerge, and as you take your last few steps into daylight you are immediately hit with an energy. A buzz. A sense that there are important people heading important directions to do important things. And so you jump into the fray - as cabs dart in and out - and you find yourself determined to do something important too.
You see, the energy is not only palpable, it’s contagious.
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The days were long in the beginning. The first month felt more like six as we found ourselves in totally sensory overload. Could we do it? Would we last? We did, of course. And so I found myself laying in bed just after midnight, wide awake and wondering listlessly how we could make our final month feel like six once again.
Outside a siren blared for a few seconds or a few minutes or somewhere in between. After living across from a hospital for two years we had grown immune to any nuisance one might find in random blasts of ambient noise. Rather, we now were so accustomed to the constant sounds that the silence of nighttime suburbia over holidays proved to be its own brand of unique annoyance.
There are so many sounds to take in, many of which bear no aesthetic virtue outside of their contribution to the fabric of city itself. Yet for every screeching subway car and rumbling street cleaner, there are far more beautiful tones which I’ll forever take with me. We can’t walk through Central Park without hearing the notes floating through the air of a jazz quartet or a violinist under the bridge or the Scotsman in full kilt playing bagpipes on Sundays. There is no shortage of people creating wonderful sounds out of thin air in this great city. And I’m sure it will be sounds which will strike a chord within us as we remember all that occurred over the years; it was in New York, after all, that we first heard our newborn’s sweet cry.
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“When can we leave this stupid place,” I thought as I rode the elevator to the basement of our building for yet another laborious load of laundry. All I wanted in that moment was a comfortable life with a spacious house and a washer and dryer that I could use anytime I wanted without need for quarters. There are quite a few moments like this in New York – the maddening fits of inconvenience which push you right to the brink of utter frustration but never quite all the way. Just when you think you can’t take it anymore in this crazy place there’s another moment of brilliance which draws you back in.
A world class meal. A rooftop view of the sun setting over the Hudson. Or, very simply, Christmas season. It’s the constant push and pull, frustration and fanaticism for the city, a pendulum swinging back and forth.
Last week my friend was on the 6 train and saw a complete stranger slap another stranger in the face for not properly creating room on the subway. Appropriately, my friend tweeted in real time what everyone was thinking, “New York, do I really love you?”
And yet we do. Warts and all.
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There’s a certain rhythm to running in Central Park which becomes a bit intoxicating. The cadence of footsteps hitting pavement and scores of joggers at all hours combine with the rich greens of the trees to soothe the mind. There were hours spent putting one foot in front of the other; days and perhaps weeks if you stretched them all together. Whatever length of time it was, it wasn’t enough. Never again will I have a yard quite so lovely.
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All around me I heard laughter. The room was filled with big, hearty, joy-filled laughs, the kind that only true friends share and which leave you pained in the side but pining for more. I sat at the end of the table and smiled at the beaming faces around me. This was real community. The type we weren’t sure would exist in New York. We’d heard that everyone would be too busy or chasing too many dreams or simply lost in the masses. How could real relationships form?
We came looking for community and in the end the smiles around the table were evidence that we’d found it. We shared life with people from all over. Many were chasing big dreams in this city which offers the opportunity to live out what most don’t even dare to imagine. Time was at a premium and everyone was busier than we’d ever known. But then we would meet together in the Park or share a conversation at the elevator and there was an underlying sense that was often unspoken but never forgotten: we were in this together.
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In the midst of all the chaos - both of everyday life and the inevitable flurry of activity which is packing up to move - there is a certain symmetry to our departure. Upon arrival in New York we faced sweltering heat and cooled off by watching Michael Phelps dominate the Beijing Olympic games. As we painted our apartment and began packing boxes yesterday, our bodies dripped with sweat and the television blared in the background about the US soccer team’s historic last minute victory at the World Cup. American athletic heroes are performing on the world stage and once again our lives are in motion.
Once again we will find ourselves driving out of town deeply saddened at the prospect of leaving the life in the rear view mirror and anxiously excited about the road ahead.
There will be tears in our eyes as we pull out of the city. The tears will be full of gratitude and absent any regrets. They will speak of lives transformed and memories without end.
Then, as we drive away, we will wipe away the tears and look back at the skyline one last time.
New York, just as we pictured it.
Got this picture sent to me today. Tracy met Jordan in the Park and they had fun with Miller and Austin.
Funny what six months will do, huh?
When Landon Donovan scored the goal in stoppage time to send the Yanks through to the 2nd round of the World Cup.
I was screaming and running around my office.
These folks were at a bar in Lincoln, Nebraska. By now you’ve seen the goal plenty of times. I like watching these fans, sitting in silence for the first 45 seconds as the time ticked by. Then a half chance for Algeria. Save. A quick shortness of breath as Howard throws past midfield perfectly to Donovan’s feet. The short scream of yet another chance smothered by the Algerian goalkeeper. And then infinite euphoria when Donovan glided in to hammer home the winning goal.
Who says Americans don’t care about soccer? My guess is there will be dozens of bars packed to the brim like this on Saturday as we take on Ghana.
(By the way, there are tons of other YouTube clips of similar celebrations - check out this NY Times post).
It seems we are trying to pack as much as possible into every day, especially on the weekends. This weekend was no exception, as we enjoyed a variety of fun activities and the awesome sunny weather.
Friday night we took the Metro North train to Connecticut where we had dinner (or a “barbecue” as those up here call it) with my co-worker Brad (aka Cosmo) and my former boss Brad (aka Brad). Both men are fantastic friends, great dads, and people I really look up to. I consider it a true blessing that I’ve been able to work with such solid guys and develop close relationships over the last few years. We really enjoyed hanging out with them and their families as Cosmo harnessed some of the skills learned while working at Chili’s back in the day to put together some killer fajitas and margaritas (not to mention an absolutely stunning parrot-themed Hawaiian shirt).
The late night ride home on the train was actually really fun. Though Miller woke up and was bright eyed the whole way, the tired boy snuggled close to Tracy’s shoulder for most of the way. I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t have minded if the train went for hours. Continuing his amazing streak, Miller went right back down to bed when we got home and slept until 7am, at which point we began our weekend routine of a walk in the park, coffee, workout/nap. Saturday afternoon we grabbed lunch with our neighbors from across the hall and then laid low for a bit before getting ready for the evening festivities. We had a babysitter for Miller as we went down just before 7pm for a surprise early birthday party for our friend John.
John’s wife Summer knew how much fun we had at the Overlook Cup at the ping-pong club SPIN. So she organized a perfect party of burgers at Shake Shack followed by a couple hours of ping ponging.
Our good buddy Trevor was undoubtedly the ping pong champ, a fact which was even funnier considering I’m pretty sure he was operating at 50% of maximum effort.
Sunday, of course, was Father’s Day. It was my first Father’s Day with a little one and I have to admit, it was pretty awesome. Miller and Tracy went out of their way to make the day special, with a few gifts, tons of quality time, and yet another trip to Blockheads for dinner (2nd time in a week!) Along with a great church service and time catching up with friends on the phone, and sublime weather, it was a simply perfect day. I think I’ll continue on with this father thing (and can you believe this little man below is ours!).
Hard to believe - but so amazing. Just like last weekend.
Father’s Day
Today at 10am the US plays tiny Slovenia in its 2nd World Cup game. It’s hard to downplay the importance of the game - if the US wins, we have one foot in the door on the way to the 2nd round. If we tie, everything is still up in the air. If we lose, it’s all but over.
I’m stoked. And then I found this unofficial World Cup anthem by “Weezer” that they created specifically for this year’s team. I recommend watching it all the way through - if you don’t get goosebumps in the last few seconds as the team chants USA, USA!!, well, you might just not be American.
We’ve taken a bunch of really fun pictures in the last week. Like this family shot from last night as we enjoyed one of our favorite neighborhood spots, Blockheads
There’s a few more good ones in this slide show:
and yet he’s trying out a swing for the first time…
