Goodbye Brooklyn, I’ll Miss You

As if my wife Laura and I didn’t have enough going on with the recent birth of our son (aka, sleep deprivation), a fulltime job and the holidays, we just closed on the sale yesterday of our apartment in Park Slope, Brooklyn. 

I already miss Brooklyn, where Laura and I ventured to from Manhattan in 1999 – a few years following our graduation from Syracuse University. I miss our cozy duplex apartment overlooking Prospect Park, which we purchased and called home since July 2001. That’s where Laura and I moved after getting married. That’s where we first experienced the joys and pains of home ownership, and cooperative living (amplified in a five-unit 1890s brownstone). That’s where I watched (from our roof) the Twin Towers fall on September 11, 2001 – just a few miles away. That’s where we enjoyed many holidays, and hosted many parties with friends and family. That’s where I learned to rebuild a toilet, spackle and paint walls, and install plumbing for a washer/dryer. That’s where I first immersed myself in window-box gardening, and Laura in knitting (no Cleaver remarks, please). That’s the friendly neighborhood which we convinced at least three other good friends to move to. That was our son’s home after leaving the hospital.

We’re now living for a few weeks in a tiny guest bedroom with my parents in New Rochelle, NY, until we finalize the purchase of a home in Pelham Manor, a neighboring village in Westchester County. We’ll have a lot more space, a yard, an American Flag proudly flying from the entrance, good schools, outrageous taxes (yuck), an easy commute and family support very close by.

I’m very excited about the next phase and acknowledge that we’re blessed, but I already miss Brooklyn and all it represented. I suppose I’ll share another cheesy moment once we get ourselves settled in the new year, and the insanity dials down to a mere stun level. But that’s enough for now. Back to marketing and media stuff.


Published by Max Kalehoff

Father, sailor and marketing executive.

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