Posted by
AudiR10TDI on Tuesday, May 08, 2007 11:09:15 AM
UPTOWN (May 8, 2007) -- For many years I have guided myself by something I once heard Ari Onassis say. "Live at a good address," he said, "if you have to live in the attic." With few exceptions I have followed that advice, living in a series of "attics" on the boundary line of the best neighbourhoods for the privilege of telling people I live in Buckhead or Forest Hill or whatever will make their eyes pop. This month I bid farewell to this lifetime dictum and opted for comfort over location. I have moved from the attic to the main floor. I am living Uptown.
The place I removed from was built in the 1950s and was what we called in the Old Neighbourhood a 'brownstone". It was a four-story walk-up with rooms the size of match boxes, bars on the windows, no access to either yard or balcony, and no way to get inside save up a steep flight of steps (or two). The windows were never washed (and you could not get to the outside area to wash them) during the four years I lived there, the kitchen ceiling fell in twice due to a water leak in between the apartment above me and mine, and was so badly patched that opening the kitchen cupboard door scraped a rain of plaster down on the food and the floor. The refrigerator had to be defrosted and reminded me of the one my mother had in the early 1960s; the stove regularly blew fuses. It took the landlord three years to replace a torn screen -- and he only did that after one of my cats finished destroying it and escaped into the neigbourhood never to be seen again. The garbage was piled in the garage as was the recycling, so if you happened to have a parking space your guests would have what Daddy called The Ash Can Tour to welcome them to your home. And dirty -- don't get me started on that. The place was filthy from top to bottom.
Why did I live there for three years? It's in a good neighbourhood, and the modern housing in that neighbourhood costs more money than the law will permit me to pay for rent. This good address cost me nearly $1,000 per month.
Now I live uptown with the biggest park in the city for a front yard. I have enough space to do a rond du jambe in any room without kicking anything, and I have a modern kitchen that has room for the extra storage I had to bring in (Canadians build their apartments with storage that would be suitable if you have just graduated from college or just got out of jail.) For the first time in ten years I can have all my stuff around me. I have a balcony, there are no bars on my windows and I don't have to put the lights on in the daytime. And above all else it is clean -- clean, clean, whistle-clean from top to bottom and they are out washing the windows even as I write.
What did I have to give up by moving up town? Well I gave up a really good neighbourhood of Italians and Jews with no crime, a quick walk to three parks and the subway or streetcar, a five minute walk to my church and the public library, and easy access to good food and good entertainment. (The grocery store in my new neighbourhood looks like it belongs in rural Alabama, and on Saturday morning there was only one check out clerk "because nobody wants to work on Saturdays." I will be shopping in my old neighbourhood from now on.) This past summer I stood on my front steps and joined in the delerious parade as the Italians celebrated their World Cup Victory. Nobody passes by the new location except coming and going to work, and nobody is outside except people riding bikes or walking dogs. Even the cat is bored by the passing scene, which is static and suburban.
Life is a trade-off, I guess. And though Onassis was right -- there is a lot of cachet in an address at a good location (for one thing you get much more high class junk mail) -- there comes a time when living in the attic is just too big a sacrifice for the benefit I can't deny I got.
So farewell Mr. Onassis and thanks for the great advice. I recommend it to all who are young enough to still enjoy living in the attic. It is a great way to learn about life.