Dec 15, 2023·edited Dec 15, 2023Liked by Laurie Stone
I loved this piece- it brought back so many buried feelings about my years in New York. For someone like me, who wasn’t born there, and didn’t grow up there, the minute you move out of New York you once again cease being a New Yorker, with all that comes with losing that identity. For almost twenty years I was so emotionally invested in living in New York, it was such a part of who I wanted to be. But every day was a battle for survival, for work, love, and especially shelter. For a while you live on the adrenaline of it all. Then, at some point, you may or may not come to your senses. I finally moved away in 2006 and never looked back.
Thank you for your insight. I know we are about to embark on a similar stage of life with trepidation as well as enthusiasm. Our identity has been here for 40 years but it has ceased to be an appropriate choice for us. It takes courage and openness to recognise when change is necessary.
What a story. I found myself running the slide carousel in my mind of all the itinerant places I have lived, many of which are efforts to change my own life-- as if a change of abodes has the power to do that. Many of the decisions we make feel random but necessary in the moment. However, the decisions we make that we're absolutely to the core sure about are the ones we will carry forward; that teach us so much about trusting ourselves, trusting as my mother liked to say, that "the answer will come." If only we can trust ourselves to wait for it.
“... I felt sorrow building, piece by piece, in the way that sorrow is a museum of sorrows. A single joy is not a museum of other joys. Joy is spontaneous. Sorrow is historic.” Love!
I'm so invested... in this..... boy do I remember the landlords, the supers. This is inspiring me to write about when my "wusband" and I got our first New York apt... LOL I haven't thought about it in YEARS.
This brought back memories of trying to hold on to my rent-stabilized apartment in the East Village after having a baby and buying a house in NJ with my husband. The landlord blocked a sublet and it was so hard to let go!
This piece brings up all the complexities of love. I love you, I hate you. I can't live without you, I need to get away from you. Rent stabilization sometimes seems to strangle the people it's meant to support.
I think we have stayed and we have left the places we lived in and then left for pretty much the right amount of time, and we have been together, grumbling and loving each other and the worlds around us, for 17 plus years. It keeps getting better.
"Apologizing always calms me right down." Me too. I hate that for us.
I just told my partner that I would move back in. He only lives a block a way, yet somehow, it feels like I will be moving to another state. We will grow old together so it will happen eventually. I just don't know if I'm ready to let go of my space. I love how your story ended. Richard is a keeper.
I love this story and the way you have written it. Every successful decision I have made in my life was intuitive and from the heart. We are about to leave our remote location home of 40 years and move to the city and it is a decision we are happy with but not without challenges. Lots of challenges. Thank you for your insight and feeling. I have been to New York a few times even though I live in central Australia's Outback.
Gorgeous Laurie. True as can be. My wife and I are traversing similar territory with the push-pull in and out of the city post-pandemic. I’m the one dug in on never leaving. Fought so hard to get and stay there! Do you have any plays in your quiver?
I think you have an amazing grasp of human interaction. Of course, plays are tricky, necessarily embedded in “doing”. But, as you know, Chekhov tackled both. Your work reminds me of him somehow: empathetic and humane, yet imbued with the comedy of trying to be a person.
Wow. Wow. Wow. What a glorious gift it is to read you. I'm struck by how fluid the non-fiction can be, realistic, and to the point, with pictures described and added for explanatory addition to the fullness of the feast. I've always said, why should I try to come up with fiction when my non-fiction is written from above and is so dang deep and delicious? Or dark and destructive, when perhaps not listening to the higher angels, either way, it's a reality I know is about learning the human condition. After UC Berkeley and a week at a DC workshop for the International Society of Political Psychology, I went to NYC to find a place to live and get a job in publishing. On that very first day in NYC, my friend's car was parked under the Washington Arch in June of 1982. All of my favorite everything was stolen out of it. I'd prepared my best to start this new life. All I had that day outside of the car as we walked, explored, laughed, adventured, and fantasized about life in the big city; was a camera, my diary, my wallet, a hat, and my writing gloves. I love the way you write about your life. I love your depth, artistry, heart, and openness about sharing the truth of your humanity in our circle of life. (Gosh, I thought I posted this. Just saw this, days later... so sorry) LOVE YOUR WRITING!!!
This piece. I'm sitting in my living room in the Black Forest but I swear while I read this I breathed in that unmistakable smell you get when exiting the Port Authority. I go back every now and then and I understand Richard; I don't belong to the city anymore which makes me both happy and very sad. I breathe in tall, dark pine tree sap now. My lungs and soul feel better but the longing for a quick walk over a pavement grate that exudes steam on the way to zabars or work will only die when I do. Thank you for this. Thank you.
I loved this piece- it brought back so many buried feelings about my years in New York. For someone like me, who wasn’t born there, and didn’t grow up there, the minute you move out of New York you once again cease being a New Yorker, with all that comes with losing that identity. For almost twenty years I was so emotionally invested in living in New York, it was such a part of who I wanted to be. But every day was a battle for survival, for work, love, and especially shelter. For a while you live on the adrenaline of it all. Then, at some point, you may or may not come to your senses. I finally moved away in 2006 and never looked back.
What a great comment. I was born there and lived there most of my life. Now I live someplace else, as everyone here knows. xxL
Thank you for your insight. I know we are about to embark on a similar stage of life with trepidation as well as enthusiasm. Our identity has been here for 40 years but it has ceased to be an appropriate choice for us. It takes courage and openness to recognise when change is necessary.
This piece was written about 13 years ago. We have lived in Hudson for the past 4 years!
Hudson is a great town. I love the Spotty Dog.
Yes, I’ve read there often.
Thank you.
What a story. I found myself running the slide carousel in my mind of all the itinerant places I have lived, many of which are efforts to change my own life-- as if a change of abodes has the power to do that. Many of the decisions we make feel random but necessary in the moment. However, the decisions we make that we're absolutely to the core sure about are the ones we will carry forward; that teach us so much about trusting ourselves, trusting as my mother liked to say, that "the answer will come." If only we can trust ourselves to wait for it.
I love this! My answers never come. Luck has probably shaped my life more than anything plus really loving to work hard. xxL
Amen to that. I wonder if anything of mine has ever been deliberate. And I am too impatient to take my mother's only piece of useful advice to heart.
“... I felt sorrow building, piece by piece, in the way that sorrow is a museum of sorrows. A single joy is not a museum of other joys. Joy is spontaneous. Sorrow is historic.” Love!
A lovely story. To me, NY always felt like it would present too great a challenge--so I chose SF. It was my McGuffin. :)
I understand!
But, I had to leave there. It was a magical month though. :/
I'm so invested... in this..... boy do I remember the landlords, the supers. This is inspiring me to write about when my "wusband" and I got our first New York apt... LOL I haven't thought about it in YEARS.
Off you go!
Loved this piece.
Funny, touching and very honest!
Thanks!
This brought back memories of trying to hold on to my rent-stabilized apartment in the East Village after having a baby and buying a house in NJ with my husband. The landlord blocked a sublet and it was so hard to let go!
Yup. xxL
Great one.
Thanks! Let's plan a thing during the thing that is happening . . . the holidays?
This piece brings up all the complexities of love. I love you, I hate you. I can't live without you, I need to get away from you. Rent stabilization sometimes seems to strangle the people it's meant to support.
I think we have stayed and we have left the places we lived in and then left for pretty much the right amount of time, and we have been together, grumbling and loving each other and the worlds around us, for 17 plus years. It keeps getting better.
"Apologizing always calms me right down." Me too. I hate that for us.
I just told my partner that I would move back in. He only lives a block a way, yet somehow, it feels like I will be moving to another state. We will grow old together so it will happen eventually. I just don't know if I'm ready to let go of my space. I love how your story ended. Richard is a keeper.
Richard is such a keeper. xxL
I love this story and the way you have written it. Every successful decision I have made in my life was intuitive and from the heart. We are about to leave our remote location home of 40 years and move to the city and it is a decision we are happy with but not without challenges. Lots of challenges. Thank you for your insight and feeling. I have been to New York a few times even though I live in central Australia's Outback.
Good luck. I wish I were there with you!
Gorgeous Laurie. True as can be. My wife and I are traversing similar territory with the push-pull in and out of the city post-pandemic. I’m the one dug in on never leaving. Fought so hard to get and stay there! Do you have any plays in your quiver?
Dearest, I do not write plays. Should I?
I think you have an amazing grasp of human interaction. Of course, plays are tricky, necessarily embedded in “doing”. But, as you know, Chekhov tackled both. Your work reminds me of him somehow: empathetic and humane, yet imbued with the comedy of trying to be a person.
I follow C's advice for a story . . . chop off the beginning and the end and leave the middle.
Spalding Gray comes to my mind!
Love from London 🌛🙏
Happy Christmas 🎄🎅☃️🧘🏼♀️🌌
I am honored by the comparison! Love from Hudson.
Wow. Wow. Wow. What a glorious gift it is to read you. I'm struck by how fluid the non-fiction can be, realistic, and to the point, with pictures described and added for explanatory addition to the fullness of the feast. I've always said, why should I try to come up with fiction when my non-fiction is written from above and is so dang deep and delicious? Or dark and destructive, when perhaps not listening to the higher angels, either way, it's a reality I know is about learning the human condition. After UC Berkeley and a week at a DC workshop for the International Society of Political Psychology, I went to NYC to find a place to live and get a job in publishing. On that very first day in NYC, my friend's car was parked under the Washington Arch in June of 1982. All of my favorite everything was stolen out of it. I'd prepared my best to start this new life. All I had that day outside of the car as we walked, explored, laughed, adventured, and fantasized about life in the big city; was a camera, my diary, my wallet, a hat, and my writing gloves. I love the way you write about your life. I love your depth, artistry, heart, and openness about sharing the truth of your humanity in our circle of life. (Gosh, I thought I posted this. Just saw this, days later... so sorry) LOVE YOUR WRITING!!!
Please come to one of the Zooms some time. I talk about how I do the things you describe. Many thanks!
Just a wonderful glimpse of life with an overbearing landlord. Thanks, Laurie!
Ps. You got a great guy with Richard.
Thanks, dear Mo. I got such a great love and pal. xxL
This piece. I'm sitting in my living room in the Black Forest but I swear while I read this I breathed in that unmistakable smell you get when exiting the Port Authority. I go back every now and then and I understand Richard; I don't belong to the city anymore which makes me both happy and very sad. I breathe in tall, dark pine tree sap now. My lungs and soul feel better but the longing for a quick walk over a pavement grate that exudes steam on the way to zabars or work will only die when I do. Thank you for this. Thank you.
Beautiful comment. This was written about a time in our past . . . we've lived together in Hudson on a beautiful farm road for the past 4 years. xxL
Well. I didn’t see THAT coming. Thanks for the surprise. It’s good to see another writer use “tumbleweed” as a verb.