Our Year in Greenwich

May 25, 2023: He's content

 A year ago today, I woke up in a hotel room at the Even in Norwalk.

It's a hotel where every room number is -- yup -- an even number. Oh, and it's very healthy. Thus it's really not meant for me but I digress.

The more important thing, as I prepared for that day, was that I was no longer a resident of the Town of Carmel, NY. Or, specifically, Mahopac. 

After 53 years, I left Mahopac, Carmel, Putnam County, and New York. While I'll always be a New Yorker at heart, I normally lived there.

That Wednesday morning, I was a resident of Greenwich, CT.

The previous 48 hours had been spent in a chaotic but organized move from Mahopac to Greenwich. The frenzy that had started in early May when we learned we had to be out by the morning of May 25, 2022, was over.

After 58 years the house on Longview Drive would have a new owner.

The road to Greenwich was, well, I didn't realize that's where we were going. For a series of reasons, apartment hunting got a late start for me. We kept thinking there would be more time so I was diligently reviewing items in a weak apartment market. I inquired about a place not too far from Mahopac that had been quickly scooped up. An apartment in Mahopac was mine for the taking but was apparently too small.

In truth, while I was nervous where this was all going to end up, I never thought I'd be homeless. I did think that I might have to go somewhere temporarily. My sister's place was an option, along with my cousin Kourtney, who told me I'd never be homeless. I think others were at least considering opening their doors to me but it never got that far.

I needed two bedrooms -- or one and a living room that I could make work as a bedroom. Plus we had a cat. If I'm being honest, I've come to realize he is almost a therapy animal having come to us after Mom's passing to keep us company.

In the end, it took a post written here for me to get a note from a friend and colleague. He had an apartment. He told me what to expect and the cost. I drove by the house that day. I was familiar with the neighborhood. Then I toured it a few days later. Honestly, I was ready to take it immediately, especially when I saw the deck and the washer/dryer unit.

But there was the application and referrals and such. It needed to be determined that I'd be a good tenant. I was, and I think I have been. And I should add "we" because Sean pretty much lives here almost full-time. Imagine that. What a coincidence.

There have been hiccups but nothing major and, let's face it, it happens. The place had been empty for some time.

While we awaited the final word on moving in, we set about the rush of packing, cleaning, and junking the contents of my parent's house. There was also a garage sale. It's amazing what can be accomplished in such a short amount of time. I look back in amazement.

Our army of workers wasn't as robust as one might hope. For the most part, cleaning the house fell on my sister and me. Moving was mostly on my cousin Kris and me. Sean was a frequent piece of both operations. Others, especially my sister's kids, helped out.

In hindsight, we were actually pretty damn amazing. It's equally amazing we didn't lose our minds given the stress and the constant storm clouds. I remember wrapping up the tag sale and being in a Chili's near Mahopac, sipping a beer. My sister and I both sat there, emotionless. We were zombies.

I rented a truck to move and even that was a process but Sean and I picked it up near Peekskill on Monday morning, May 23. Stupid me, I thought the move would take one load and one day. I thought I'd be able to crash in my hotel early in the afternoon of the 24th. I picked the Even in part because they were pet-friendly.

Of course, had the move been over the weekend I'd like to believe that we would have had more help. Instead, I was fortunate to have what I had. Our landlords had been truly gracious, allowing me to take occupancy on the 25th as opposed to June 1st and letting us move things in beginning on the 23rd. I was handed the keys the day before. For truly for the first time, with no partner to speak of, I had my own place. I can still hear a condescending voice wondering how I would ever take care of myself (knowing, especially in hindsight, that was one of the numerous ways of telling me that we'd be splitting).

The move took two loads over two days in part because the truck was too small. So we loaded the rental truck, Kris's truck, and Sean's car and drove to Greenwich. Then we unpacked. I was willing to go back to Mahopac and load up one more time but Kris and Sean both encouraged me to rest up. So Kris said he'd come back with a trailer on Tuesday. I took the rental truck back to Peekskill.

I slept on an air mattress that night in Mahopac.

We loaded the trailer and my car on Tuesday morning. We tried but we simply couldn't fit everything so Rascal and a few final things stayed behind. I'd have to return for them.

It was during the unloading in Greenwich that I got a phone call from a lawyer as my ex attempted to nuke the entire process. The closing was briefly put on hold before all parties came to an agreement that wouldn't be fully resolved until roughly a month ago. Oh, don't worry, she got every dime. Always about money and control.

Anyway...

With things put in place in the apartment, there was still one more thing to go get. We left Greenwich around 4:30 that Tuesday and I headed back to Mahopac. In the meantime, the buyer of the house had stopped in to take some measurements.

That's when he found Rascal cowering behind the toilet. The poor cat had nowhere to hide in a now empty house and he scared the new owner.

I took one last walk around the house that had belonged to my parents since 1963. I stepped through each room, filming as I walked. Shockingly, I did it with minimal emotion, likely too wound up from everything.

I strolled the yard one last time, dodging any neighbors. I just wanted to get what was left, take a last look, and head out.

I packed what I could into my car. I left other things on the side of the road, having watched a full-loaded dumpster with years of ephemera drive away that morning. Desks, dressers, TVs, a couch, and other furniture went with it. I didn't have the space in the apartment so I regret nothing.

May 24, 2022. 6 p.m. Time to go.

Finally, at 6 p.m. on the night of May 24, 2022, with a cat screaming in the car, I departed my parent's home. I took one last picture and headed back to Greenwich.

The cat hated every step of the trip. He, however, would be the one spending the night in Greenwich. I pondered canceling the hotel. I pondered occupying myself by hanging out at WGCH or somewhere until midnight when I could officially occupy the place.

Instead, I quickly parked in the driveway, carried a terrified cat inside, emptied the car, threw a comforter in the washing machine, made sure the cat was safe (and hiding under my bed) and left for Norwalk.

My plans -- be in Norwalk earlier in the day and even enjoy a nice meal to celebrate -- had been thwarted. Instead, I ate Wendy's in my car before checking in.

Then I sat in the hotel room and pondered all of it. I worried about the washing machine and the cat. I thought about heading back to Greenwich after midnight. I fretted over the action to delay the closing. I fretted over what awaited at the closing.

I didn't sleep great.

Instead, my sister met me the next morning and we drove to Yonkers for the closing. Transactions were completed, questions were answered, and chunks of my share were held back. It was painless and none of it mattered because it was over.

I'm not money-driven. Never have been. Just allow me to live and be comfortable.

My sister and I celebrated that afternoon. Yes, we did.

May 25, 2022. He adjusted.

I was able to poke my head into the apartment a few times -- once, following the closing, and again after our celebration. I still had to go host "The Clubhouse" that night.

The place looked great. It was ours. Boxes and items were everywhere but my bed was ready to be slept in that night. That mattered. The cat was still nervous. The washing machine was fine.

Then came that moment following "The Clubhouse" when it came time to make the turn. Go left to Mahopac. Go right to Greenwich.

I turned right and took 684 south to new beginnings.

I also slept horribly that first night but it was OK.

Not long after I got home, Rascal came out from under the bed. He was comfortable.

We were home.

The past year has given us what we needed. We adjusted as we went along beginning to understand the damage done, especially following Mom's passing. I didn't understand the cost COVID had on me mentally or physically either, even though I was never diagnosed with it. 

But there was a cost. You bet there was.

We enjoyed the Greenwich Town Party featuring Billy Joel that first weekend. We settled into walking to town and adjusting to parking. I got my Connecticut license and plates. We enjoyed the convenience of the nearby train station. We taught ourselves that Wegmans in Harrison, NY would be our go-to grocery store for bigger shopping.

We enjoyed being close to where we could do depositions and WGCH and Hunt Scanlon. And, of course, Greenwich and Brunswick.

We left from here for adventures. I went to San Francisco (and London in a few weeks). We went to North Carolina, Cooperstown, The Big E, and Florida, and made frequent jaunts to Wawa or whatever grabbed us.

We hosted only a few guests. Chris Erway, Kris, and honestly not nearly enough others. The place is small but we like it. 

I love my deck. That's why I got a Bluetooth speaker recently. Now I'd like a deck chair that I can sleep on!

We've adjusted to the sounds of Metro North, Amtrak, freight trains, and Interstate 95. At all hours.

I'll never adjust to the horn honking. I admit that.

We're Greenwich residents, which is not the stereotype one has in mind. We live in a reasonably-priced apartment (after being told we'd never find such a thing) and live among hard-working people in a great cross-section of town. We have businesses nearby that we're happy to support.

The Greenwich I know isn't the money and glamour. It's a melting pot of people stretched from Chickahominy and Byram to Cos Cob and Riverside and up to Glenville.

Come and visit us.

I'm not saying we'll be here forever but we're happy. Ask Sean. He'll tell you.

And we've been here a year.

Officially.