I'll be away from the computer for a few weeks, while my family and I move on to greener pastures (literally). While it's been nice being woken to the sound of gunshots, drunken brawls and whatever shitty hip-hop single is on the best seller's rack at Best Buy for the past seven years, it's time to make like the American Corps of Discovery and "proceed on."
The unkempt houses, garbage on my front lawn, neighbors who retrieve toilet paper from their car wearing only their underwear, and school kids who insist on screaming obscenities because they know you can't beat them to death will hold a dear place in our hearts. I'll miss the corner store which proudly proclaims that "LOTTO, BEER, WINE" are available, as are relatively inexpensive Money Orders, and other necessary urban sundries. I'll also miss the infamous "Ermie's" bar, which I am not ashamed to say I've closed a few times, some of the time being the last to hang up the pool cue and stumble home with my friend Rick, the only guy I'd ever venture into a place like that with, save for my Grandfather, who knocked one back with me there one summer afternoon.
In all seriousness, I will miss my pizza guy, though. Pizza Bill. Last time I was in, I left with my pizza in arm as he was railing incessantly about how the Chinese are taking over the world. I'm afraid to tell him I'm leaving, because I know our conversations mean as much to him as they do to me. We both agree that George W. Bush is an idiot, that the god-damn kids today with their color televisions and expensive hi-tops need a good ass-whuppin' more than they need school administrators, and that it's never a bad idea to call and order a pizza if you don't feel like cooking.
I'll also miss our neighbors, Larry and Carol. They keep their home up like it's Buckingham Palace, despite all the decay around them. They're friendly, and don't mind pitching in to help anyone with an interest in maintaining their investment. Pity not more people around here take them up on it. Larry helped me put a new porch on my house. We busted our ass for two days straight in the hot summer sun, and he was upset when I gave him Mudhens tickets and a gift certificate for dinner to make up for the weekend he lost with his wife helping me. He didn't want anything in return. Now that's a good neighbor, and the more of them there are, the better off we all are.
With those memories, bad and good, we're moving out of the city. I am as done with city life as one could possibly be. While we're not exactly moving on to a farm or into the wilderness, it will be nice to actually live in a home, in a neighborhood, and a community that we're proud of. After enduring ten years of graduate school, enough is enough. True, we brought our son home to this house, but I'm happy to take those memories with me, and let them get better with time. Soon, I'll laugh about being woken up by gunshots, and the drunken brawls will seem quaint. Until then, I'm packing as fast as I can.
