Changes - Big and Small

It’s been some time since I’ve written. Since we last spoke, much has happened to me here in Asheville. Not the big earth shattering events that make us keenly aware and awake in our lives – deaths, births, civil unions (aka marriages) or even trips to Australia - but rather the marching on of small, contiguous events that ultimately creates our lives, one day at a time.

I hope I’m not repeating myself, but most of you know that I worked full time at a printing company. Without going into the drama of why, I realized that I really couldn’t do that job anymore. A new house, a new community and a new city just requires a lot of time. I decided to work for myself again. Before I gave notice though, I called the owner of Apple Advertising. We had corresponded via email while I was still in New York. It was one of the businesses I had cold-called in Asheville looking for web design. Incidentally, I never got out of the “a’s” – the printing company was Allegra. I met him when I came down mining for work last November and stayed in touch all the while. My timing was perfect. They needed someone to manage their clients website and other projects as they come up. We agreed that Croft Communications would work for him 20 – 25 hours a week. It’s been about 3 months now so I can safely say that I am enjoying the work. I still get a chance to do a little design when the art director is in a pinch, but my job is to handle the clients and coordinate the projects and people. I’m actually pretty good at that.

I finally moved from NYC and closed on my apartment. I went back during the last week of June. I spent most of my time from Tuesday through Saturday evening, reconnecting with friends and simply saying goodbye to my home of the past eleven years. Manhattan was in a relatively good mood: it was hot, but not unbearable. My little garden around the corner from me was in full bloom and I enjoyed every morning there with my coffee. It could have just been my imagination, but even the garbage trucks seemed a little more polite during those times.

I had a great time. I filled each day with lunch and dinner with friends. One night was theater – Jessica Lange and Christian Slater in “The Glass Menagerie” – with my friend Ginny. I’ve been a long time admirer of Jessica Lange. After the play, I walked a few blocks with Ginny toward her train. When we parted, I sauntered back through Time Square, savoring the excitement and energy of the place that I have long taken for granted. I found myself back in front of the theater and there was a crowd gathered by the door, apparently waiting to take Ms. Lange to her home. I stopped and a young woman (probably in her late twenties) beside me asked, “If I told my mother back home that I saw Jessica Lange, would she know who that is?” At first I was a little surprised that she didn’t know anything about Jessica Lange, but then I quickly remembered that I don’t really know anything about younger actresses. Then she asked me who Tennessee Williams was. After I took in that little shock, we talked awhile, my final opportunity to share Manhattan as a knowledgeable Manhattenite. But, when JL did come out of the theater, I decided I would play the tourist, and I got her autograph. The young lady was impressed and called her mother back home (wherever that was) to share the excitement. It was a good way to exit Manhattan. After all, theater and the tourists on Broadway is the quintessential New York Experience. How many times have I cursed them as I brushed them aside to make an appointment. I realized how empty the bright lights of Broadway would be if it weren’t for the multitudes of people enjoying them.

As luck would have it, an old golfing buddy and dear friend was in town from Portland, OR. It seems strange to call someone that, but it is true. Some of my happiest days were playing as part of a foursome at Moshulu’s (in the Bronx) nine-hole course. She and I spent the better part of a day together doing some moving errands together and catching up on our lives. I also had dinner with Elaine, my mentor and friend from Australia. She was filled with news of the farm (ReGenesis) and all my friends there. I had lunch with Amy, not only a friend but also a spiritual mentor. One evening was spent with all the girls of my long time social group who are still in NYC. Of them, one has bought a condo in Florida and plans to retire there in a few years. Another has bought a house in Northampton and will be spending more time there. And then there is my friend from Brooklyn. She was born there, lives there now, and believes she will stay there. That after all, is her home. What a warm thought (and selfish) to know that she will be there, holding down the fort for the rest of us when we come to visit our old haunts.

And finally, I ended the social swirl by going up to Connecticut on Saturday for a gathering of friends there. Ginny had organized a party on her deck. Besides sipping wine and dining on homemade cuisine, we swapped new house stories and talked about our lives. It was the perfect way to end an era in my life that has shaped and developed me in ways that I could not have imagined when I first came New York. During my eleven years, I have grown so rich from my friendships and experiences. My friends can never know how much they have contributed to some of the best days of my life. I am truly grateful for the richness they have given me.

On Monday, I moved. My son and his girlfriend came up on Friday. He lived in NYC for 6 months and had also visited me often. It felt good to share the last fews days with him. He, along with one of his friends who happened to be in NYC at the same time, loaded the truck. We went to NJ to get a stuff that I had in storage there. At 3pm the dropped me off at the PATH train nearby and I headed to the airport - with soggy hair (the heat and humidity was very high) and filthy. I tried to clean up - I took some extra clothes - in the bathroom, but generally I was pretty pathetic looking! Andy and Sheyra drove the truck to Asheville through the night and arrived at 8 am.

Exhausted, they went to bed. I went to the local mission and found two guys to unload. They were hard working, clean and respectful. Both are homeless. They told me that at the city sponsored mission they eat well and shower. They were decent guys. After we got to know each other a little better, they started talking about themselves. They accepted responsibility for what they did and didn’t do with their lives. They blame their homelessness on alcoholism. It was an interesting experience working with them for a few hours. I felt really strange dragging in everything I couldn't throw away in NYC while these guys had only what they could carry with them. Even more interesting, because I had been living with so little myself for the past few months and knew how little I need all the things I was moving. So much of what we think we need are just trappings of a well lived.

This all reminds me of my goal of living well beneath my means. Starting over isn’t easy, nor is it cheap. With a new house comes new furniture. With a new city, I need a new car. With a new climate, I need new clothes. I need a home and that means the comforts and conveniences that come with that. But there are lessons to learn here. Patience has never been my particular virtue, but perhaps it’s one that I will finally develop. I must be patient with my apartment furniture in my house until I find exactly what I want, at the price I want to pay. I am learning patience in my garden and landscape. I am deeply discovering that nature has it own time frame.

I am especially learning patience in my community. People aren’t in a rush here like they are in NYC. Often, as I stand behind someone in a store to pay, I listened to the badinage between the shopkeeper and the customer. Rather than being annoyed that they are holding me up, I am relaxing into the moment to appreciate the genuine relationship that is happening in front of me. I realize that these exchanges happen millions of time a day in millions of places, but I have too often failed to enjoy the warmth and affection of these moments. I am also enjoying that strangers still wave to each other when they pass on narrow streets, or that people almost always let you in when pulling into traffic. And then we wave. These exchanges were common in the small rural towns I grew up in. I rediscovered them in Mullum, Australia last year. I’m happy to find them again in Asheville.

Thanks once again for reading my story. I owe some gratitude to my friend Jeanne who came to visit recently. She and her partner moved from Westchester County, NY to Durham, NC around the same time I moved here. We are both southerners by birth, but now call each “New York friends.” She told me that as she and Gail drove into Asheville, she saw the “Bean Street Café”, and apparently excitedly pointed it out to Gail, who has not been getting my emails and postings. Her comments and appreciation inspired me to let go of the things that had kept me from writing for the last month. Thank you Jeanne. I needed that.

Finally, as I close, I realize maybe the events around the finality of moving are more life changing than I realized when I first started writing. Certainly, there is a less financial burden on my shoulders now, there are new friends to get to know better, and there is a new direction in my life to follow. And it is all turning out to be very much what I had often imagined for myself the last couple of years in NYC.