Movin' on Down

I definitely live some of my missed life vicariously through my Ds.  D1 took her true passion, food and nutrition, and turned it into her life's work.  I so admire her for that -- for me, law was a great business, but never a passion for me.

Another thing I always wished I had done was live in NYC for a time -- preferably after college.  Alas, it wasn't in the cards for me, as my widowed mom needed help figuring out life after my Dad died young, and so law school was to be spent at the U.  Turned out great, of course, but I always wondered what the City may have held for a 22 year old version of me.

So I got to do it through D2, who moved there a year and a half ago.  She and her man Jonathan moved into a "one bedroom" apartment in Murray Hill, a nice residential part of town.  They soon found that most of their socializing was in Lower Manhattan, Tribeca, SoHo, and Greenwich Village, or as I call it using MY era's nickname, "The Village."  Apparently there is now West Village and Greenwich Village.  But really who can keep up with 'hood nicknames?  Miami is doing it now, too -- I just heard about WOW (West of Wynwood) and even boring South Miami is trying to market itself as SoMI.

Anyway, Greenwich Village always had a magical place in my heart, mostly because my Dad thought it was the coolest place of all.  Even though Dad was a classic WW II man in the gray flannel suit, he admired the fact that GW was the place that artists, writers, folk singers, and all Bohemians gathered.  I have very warm childhood memories of walking there, pre Yuppie days, and my father just really feeling at home there.

Well, D2 told us yesterday that she and Jonathan got an apartment they applied for -- on 11th street and 6th ave, right in the heart of that beloved neighborhood.  It's very close to the Stonewall monument, site of the first gay rights event, back in the late 60s.  Apparently they 'hood retains a lot of those residents, and their younger version.

It's a prewar building, which means bigger apartment, but laundry and trash in the basement.  But the building DOES have a doorman, something this protective Dad insisted on.  I just like the idea of having someone there when you come home at night, to watch over you.

So I guess it'll be adios to the Affinia Dumond and Gansevoort Park Avenue, the go-to hotels blocks from D2's Murray Hill apartment, and hello to whatever hotels are close to the new digs.

All I know is I'm thrilled for her and Jonathan, and for me, too.  Something my Dad dreamed of doing, living in "the Village," is finally happening, just two generations later.  I plan to toast his memory, with D2 and Jonathan, first visit I make.