Archives for the month of: September, 2010
I’d lived in Cupertino for 14 years when I moved here, in an apartment down the street from my new job at Apple Computer. Over that near decade and a half so much living had flowed under the bridge it is a book to write in my dotage, a huge piece of my memoirs. The attachment to my apartment there was deep and intense, and it took me lot of energy to move on from it. When I did, it was the joy of moving in with my partner and best friend that made it easy to endure the effort. 


So I hardly thought that living in Sunnyvale for a mere five years, in a time when my life was seemingly much simpler, would make moving so difficult. We get along well, the apartment here has been convenient and comfortable if nothing particularly special. We’re moving to a condominium in a town new to me, which is exciting in and of itself. 

And yet in this five years of living here, through a period of economic challenge and many event personal and deep if not “large” in the same way as my time in Cupertino, I have found great joy in a simple morning walk that I’ve tried to do every day. These neighborhood streets, the flotsam and jetsam of wind and traffic that fill the ground with signs, the cafe where I sit on morning and enjoy the chill or warmth of outdoor air … they have become mine, a landscape in my thoughts through which I see and travel distances unimaginable any other way. 

Our new place is only six miles away. The neighborhood there is new, unexplored in large part, and very walkable. But still: it is hard to move. It is difficult to tear oneself away from the familiar, from the comfortable, from the intimate that you have come to know and love. 

It will happen, it is happening. Half my stuff is already bundled ready to move.  I’ll be closing down the office tomorrow for a week or two. The new place is almost ready to move into … the truck will be here Wednesday morning. And while it is only a few minutes drive away, I will no longer be part of this place, this walk, these small things I see. 


And I am ready now, waiting, to see what I find and where my footsteps lead my eyes. In a new place again. 

“The Eternal admires the creations of Time.” – William Blake
United Airlines sent me a note in May that my frequent flyer miles were going to go away if I didn’t book something with them before the end of June. So I thought, ‘heck, i haven’t been to NY since mom passed away, i should visit my brothers and see what’s going on back east.’ 


One of my friends was available and I had the time to visit yesterday. So on September 11, 2010, I took the train from Westchester down into Manhattan. The significance of the date was not lost on me. 

New York City is, indeed, a living organism. There wasn’t a lot of time, I had another engagement on my calendar in the evening. I  rode the Harlem Line down to Grand Central and feeling the heat as I exited the train brought back vivid memories of growing up in and around this place. 

The City in Summer is always about sweat. It’s always about movement, constant movement, the sound of so much going on resonating and colliding in the hot, damp air. Riding the subway, mid-day on a Saturday, it is jammed as if in rush-hour in any other city. I didn’t really remember the path to my friend’s place on 7th and First: I felt my way there riding the subways after a cursory glance at the map, and walked when I got off nearby. 

The street is New York. Every block, every neighborhood full of people talking, eating, buying, selling, sitting, laughing, crying, running, walking. All different ages, all different kinds. It is exhilarating. Buzz about the Towers. Buzz about the mosque, about politics, about what’s good and what sucks. I talked with a woman on the subway platform, jammed and jostled with passengers in the cars screeching through their tunnels underground, enjoyed an ice cream cone while watching a woman and her two youngsters doing the same. There’s enough to keep your ears and eyes full no matter where you turn. 

So glad I made it here at this time.