View From a Height

Home Sweet Home

I could never live in New York. The sheer anger required to survive would kill me with a heart attack. New York plays to every bad character trait I've spent the last 8 years trying to change. Being here a couple of days is enough to see that.

I'm here for what I initially feared would be the worst, that is now mercifully receding into the more distant future. Susie's dad was admitted to the hospice, then to the hospital, but has recovered nicely. It's not a long-term recovery, sadly, but later is always better than sooner. Susie will stay behind indefinitely.

I'm staying in Boro Park, Brooklyn, one of the more deservedly maligned boroughs. These people either have tremendous faith or are completely insane, since they continue to lay on the car horn for 30 seconds at a time, despite the fact that I have never seen it have any perceptible effect on the 14-block line of traffic. In Denver, they run red lights. In New York, they double-park to go get a cup of coffee.

I've seen Denver drivers get more aggressive over time, probably as the local culture get swamped by unassimilated immigrants. But nothing like this.

I can't wait to get home, even if it is alone.