Bumped into an old friend tonight (On Facebook, not on ninth avenue)
We reminisced about the days of growing up in the neighborhood.
A couple of hours later I came across this piece from the New York Daily News on a writer who left New York City.
Here’s the author of the story with an interesting comment; he has since moved to a small town in Colorado.
I was born and raised in middle-class Brooklyn, and imagined one day raising my children in the neighborhood I grew up in — one I will never be able to afford as the row houses and apartments intended to house ordinary New Yorkers have become multi-million-dollar luxury housing, out of reach for those without Wall St. jobs or family money.
So I left, and am happier for it.
At times I have thought of writing a piece on why I left the city. And some day, I may get around to it.
One reason I left was due to the high cost of living. I was paying close to two thousand dollars a month for an apartment down on eleventh avenue. One bedroom apartment.
This was back in 1996. Seems such a long time ago.
There’s no telling what the landlord charges 18 years later.
I am not bitter nor am I jealous that I no longer can afford to live in the neighborhood where I grew up. Time heals all wounds.
I’m sure others were in the same boat. I know people from the neighborhood who have moved to Staten Island, New Jersey and Upstate New York. Pretty close to the city. It’a different though if you have moved across the country or down South.
I like where I am, I really do. It’s not crowded. There’s zero traffic. I can drive everywhere. I can walk and bike too.
No more crowded trains where someone next to you might get upset because they’re having a bad day.
It takes me just a few minutes to get to work.
Our schools are wonderful and most important, I have met some good people.
Tonight my friend on Facebook mentioned to me that she was jealous of where I lived. I’m sure she would like it out here.