The Country House

Before moving to The Big City I rationalized the increased living costs with some assumptions. For example, I had planned to sell my two cars. I have never understood why anyone would need to own an automobile in The Big City. The mass transit options available make owning a car an unneeded luxury. In fact, it isn't any fun to drive a car in The Big City. Traffic moves slowly, other drivers are insane, traffic patterns are impossible to understand and insurance rates are the highest in the nation. So, in response to all of this, I bought a new car. My reasoning for needing a new car is both extensive and brilliant. I wanted it. Helping the economy; zero percent financing; the fact the old car needed new tires and the ashtray was full… These were all just rationalizations. I have learned a lesson. Those who live in The Big City need a car so that they can get out of The Big City. Permanent residents of The Big City leave the city to the tourists on the weekends. True city dwellers go to the theater, art galleries and restaurants on weeknights. Weekends are reserved for the "country home". Well, wanting to fit in, I too have a country home. It is my father's house in Van Etten, NY. This past weekend I visited dad. It gave me the opportunity to break in the new car (Mustang convertible). My plan was perfect. I pick up the new car on Tuesday as I'm leaving for a financial aid conference in the Catskills. On Friday, after the conference, I would drive to dad's house. I would be part way there anyway. Unfortunately I was delayed in picking up the new car. It seems I had misplaced the title to the car I was trading in. I am the most organized person I know but some things just don't survive moving well and vehicle titles seem to be among them. So I went to the conference in the old car. On Friday I drove back to The Big City, into Manhattan, picked up the car and, just in time for the rush hour, began my drive upstate. I put the top down on the convertible and sat in traffic. It appears that if you have the top down on a convertible you appear to be approachable. I spoke to a lot of people that day. For example, I met a woman from New Jersey in a SUV. She was stuck in traffic next to me. She asked me for directions to the Lincoln Tunnel. We were already stuck in a line for the Lincoln Tunnel, the fact that we were twelve blocks away not withstanding. She was thrilled. I felt as though we had bonded. The drive to dad's house took five and half-hours. If the original plan had worked it would have taken two and a half-hours. I had traveled from a city with over eight million residents to a village with less than five hundred residents. When a car travels down Main Street in Van Etten, people look to see who it is. Van Etten is so small, when someone turns on a toaster, the streetlights dim. When I arrived at my country home I found that my father was not there. He was out playing dominos. Oh, will the excitement never end. Not to worry, I know where the key is hidden. Well, I know where it is usually hidden. It seems dad lost the key, so the door is now just unlocked. (He is fixing that problem this week so don't get any ideas). My father and I planned a big day for Saturday. First, I removed the air conditioner from his window. Then we put some siding that had fallen off back onto the side of his house. For our evening entertainment dad suggests dinner at a restaurant in Newfield, 12 miles away. They are offering a prime rib dinner for $8.99. When we arrive in Newfield we can't seem to find the restaurant. The ad said it was next to the covered bridge (yes, a covered bridge, just like on the postcards). All we see next to the bridge is a convenience store. We drive up and down Main Street looking for the restaurant. (It is a trip of about ½ a mile). We stop at the convenience store to ask for directions. Inside we find…prime rib. Yes, the convenience store is selling a prime rib dinner for $8.99. And it's good. It's very good. What is the lesson to be learned? The reason people leave The Big City and go to their country homes is that The Big City is wonderful, but it is overwhelming. We all need time and places where all of our senses are not working overtime filtering what we need to know from what we don't need to know. In Van Etten a car alarm would draw attention. In The Big City a car alarm only draws attention if it sounds for a couple of hours. At that point 911 is not called, but a baseball bat is found in the closet. The people heading for upstate, Pennsylvania, the Jersey Shore and Long Island don't leave the city because they hate the city. They are leaving to preserve their sanity. Upon return to work on Monday morning they, and I, have a new appreciation for the city, its noise, grime, traffic, crowds, stores, hotdog carts and $10.00 Rolex watches.