Here’s this week’s Smartmom from the Brooklyn Paper:
Everyone knows how much Smartmom hates it when friends move away. Not only does it induce major separation anxiety, but it also throws her into a neurotic tizzy about the choices she’s made in life.
Such was the case last spring when Smartmom found out that her friends, Ay and Eye, were planning a big move to a small town in Canada. Smartmom wanted to know all the details but especially WHY.
Why would they want to leave this nirvana known as Park Slope?
Why would they want to leave their gorgeous brownstone on Third Street?
Why would they want their son to attend fifth grade anywhere other than PS 321?
Why would they want to part with their tight-knit klatch of Third Street stoop neighbors?
Ay and Eye calmly explained that they’d simply fallen in love with this Canadian town, which is both a summer and winter resort. The elementary and middle schools are walking distance from their new Victorian home. There’s a great independent bookstore, a vegan restaurant and a coffee bar. Perhaps best of all, Canada has free universal health insurance and they won’t have to go through the agony of applying to public middle school.
Well, it all made sense. Sort of.
And Smartmom admired them for being brave. Moving to a new place without friends and family was a hard thing to do and Smartmom was impressed, even envious. Smartmom has always fantasized about moving to an exotic locale far from her family (just kidding).
Still it was hard to swallow. Ay and Eye are iconic Park Slopers. Smart, politically progressive, vegan, well-read, community oriented, neighborly and fun to talk to. How would they live without everything that Park Slope had to offer? How could they walk away from one of the best neighborhoods in the world? (How could they live with such good old American hyperbole?)
Smartmom pretended to be really excited for them. She oohed and ahhed when they showed her a picture of their beautiful new house and the cute Main Street in their new town. But inside she felt empty, sad, and a little bit confused.
Later, Smartmom called Gluten Free, who moved to a big Victorian upstate five years ago.
Gluten Free said she knew very well why someone might leave Park Slope for greener pastures. She’d found it in the bucolic Hudson Valley where her family was able to afford lots of square footage, a beautiful backyard, nature nearby and an artsy, small-town atmosphere.
Smartmom was a basket case when Gluten Free, Dadu and their kids up and left. Deep down, she was deeply hurt that they could abandon her. The thing was: Smartmom and Hepcat were losing two of their best friends.
Over time, Smartmom and Gluten Free adjusted to their long-distance relationship. They now talk on the phone many times a week — often when Smartmom is walking down Seventh Avenue. Smartmom, Hepcat and family are regular guests in the guest room of their super-sized Kingston home. And Gluten Free and family are regulars in Smartmom’s small (and, thanks to Hepcat, shrinking) living room.
Last week, Ay and Eye had an informal going away party in the living and dining room of their palatial brownstone. As Smartmom walked up their stoop, she wondered how it was possible to walk away from all this — even if it did mean free health care.
The party itself was a scene right out of a promotional video for a Fourth Avenue condo. Interesting looking friends and neighbors wandered in and out. Rotisserie chicken from Union Market, chocolate cake from Sweet Melissa’s, fresh fruit, cheese and wine, the table was a regular smorgasbord of Slope cuisine.
Smartmom dreaded the good-bye. She wasn’t sure what to say. She thought she might cry. After all, she’d known the two of them before they were married; before their two children were born; before they’d bought their brownstone; back when they lived on the fourth floor of Smartmom’s apartment building.
Smartmom felt a deep surge of regret. Why hadn’t they done this more often? In the hustle and bustle of Park Slope life, they’d had plenty of sidewalk conversations, but hadn’t been to a party together in years.
As Smartmom and Hepcat readied to leave, Eye came over and gave Smartmom a hug.
“We’re having another party for everyone who couldn’t make it to this one and for everyone who wants to come again…”
Smartmom was relieved. She’d have one more chance to experience the neurotic mix of emotions she was going through. One more chance to dread the good-bye. One more chance to savor time with these wonderful people she’s proud to call her friends.
“corroded highways despoiling our neighborhoods.” Surely that should be “the neighborhoods?”
OK, shouldn’t have used Moses as an example, but the underlying point is that even *he* had a sense of “place”, although his manifestation of it was, indeed, horrible.
Your main point about non-attachment: Would you be willing to give up “your” kids to be raised communally? Or “your” car to be used by anyone who needs it for a day? Not that that means over-possessiveness is not bad.
If you don’t have “attachment” why should you care for whatever it is you’re not attached to? Who then does care for it? Are you using “respect for” somewhat synonymously for “attachment” ?
As for Native Americans, I am amused that you, who often object to my favorably citing conditions in India, say, to prove my point, would use an agrarian paradigm that would be impossible in a modern, urban, pluralistic environment.
It’s an ego-driven illusion, Chandru, that attachment leads to goodness and non-attachment leads to neglect. Quite the contrary. In fact, attachment, which whether we’re referring to the neighborhood we live in or the offspring we’ve given birth to, is always manifested by the use of the words “my.” “My kids.” “My neighborhood.” And that possessiveness doesn’t lead to good caretaking, ultimately, of either our kids or our community. It inevitably leads to co-dependence, exclusiveness and paranoia of the Other. The Native Americans in our country’s history understood that fact, and so they knew that the land belonged to no one and children belonged only to themselves and the universe. They lived respectfully in non-attachment wherever they roamed. As for Robert Moses, when’s the last time you drove on the BQE? If Robert Moses wasn’t so attached to his vision of a car-dependent New York, we might have a state of the art mass transit system today instead of the horrific, corroded highways despoiling our neighborhoods.
As usual, Peter, we are on diametrically opposite sides.
I can’t speak to your Buddhist sentiments, but can categorically state that attachment to place (not “a place”) is what makes it vital, what makes people care for its environment, try to better it and in general makes for a thriving “community” (not at all psuedo.) In this I think I will be supported by any number of urban thinkers, from Jane Jacobs to even the much-derided Robert Moses.
In fact, the disassociation from the place one lives in is characteristic of the US, (and maybe other Western societies) and many societal ills have been attributed to it, from renters vs home-owners taking care of their space, to the general apathy towards problems in one’s immediate environment. Read “Bowling Alone, Robert Putnam”
So be detached from the place you live in, it’s ok (I’m giving you permission,) but surely there are others who’ll take care of it so you can benefit nonetheless.
Hey Louise that’s a great short piece. Initially I was intrigued and wanted more since good friend of mine within the neighborhood have bolted to Berlin – rather than Canada. That follows a host of other friends who have relocated to cities such as Seattle, San Francisco, Providence, Western Mass – I could go on. It’s hard to lose those long-standing friends in the nabe. I heard that the couple who once owned Nest on 7th Avenue relocated to Vermont. No idea that the last sale I attended was a “fire” sale. And before I close, my husband and I were astonished when our neighbor, who’s lived in the building for over 20 years, decided to put her place on the market a week ago. Anyway, at least you and I can say that we’re the constants.
I second Mr. Loffredo’s comments. It sure isn’t the description of MY typical PS resident, and is quite frankly worlds away from me.
It’s the kind of stuff that makes a Gawker writer drool …”here comes another typical PS PC thing that’s a whole load of BS.”
Wow, Louise! I am amazed at your “love” of this neighborhood. Not that I have anything against the neighborhood as a place, but the idea that what constitutes an “iconic Park Sloper” is someone who is “smart, politically progressive, vegan, well-read, community oriented, neighborly and fun to talk to” is well, so strikingly lacking in objectivity, and so absent in my experience with people here, that I am inclined to say… “Wow, Louise!”
Obviously, I don’t share your attachment to this neighborhood, but of course, I’ve never felt attached to any particular place, even though I’ve lived in neighborhoods for long stretches (including my home town in the suburbs until college age, and 25 years of living on the upper westside). A place is well… just a place to me. There are things to enjoy in a place, routines, favorite restaurants, etc., certain people, and there are annoying things in all places, as well. But in the truest Buddhist sense, attachments make for unhappiness in life, ultimately, because the nature of physical life is transient. Paradoxically, attachment also prevents true intimacy, which is very important to me, because attachment is rooted in fear, and fear interferes with the openness necessary to feel genuinely close to someone. Perhaps, that is what I have complained about the most since living in Park Slope – the pseudo-intimacy masking the fear and attachment energy (What others have called “entitlement” and “clique-ishness” when criticizing Park Slopers.)
Okay, my dear Louise, that’s my curmudgeonly response to your otherwise poignant “Smartmom” piece, which as always, is enjoyable reading.
I love this narrative but can’t find the continuation. ?