So here I am: coveting the Old Neighborhood. Thinking how much I’d love to move back down into the historic mid-town Encanto neighborhood, where DXH and I spent the first 15 years or so of our marriage. Where M’ijito grew old enough to pass through the first several years of the tony private grade school where we sent him. Where I wrote a Ph.D. dissertation, got it accepted by a prestigious publisher, finished the degree, and thereby made myself unemployable.
Ahhhh, the good ole days!
Ruby and I traipsed all over the place this afternoon, from our old part of the district through the expensively tony Palmcroft neighborhood, into the park…round and round.
I loved our time in the Encanto/Palmcroft district, and greatly regretted feeling we needed to move out. Before we sold our beautiful historic home and moved up to the North Central area, DXH had told me we would put our son in the highly respected Madison schools, the best public school district in the state. I figured Cool! He could get a first-rate K-8 experience, meet and make friends with offspring of the prominent North Central set, and from there proceed with the other Richistani kids to attend the weighty and prestigious Brophy Catholic High School. Or, failing that, go through Central High School, without doubt the state’s best public high school.
Well. Uh…no.
Once we got moved, DXH refused to switch the kid into a public school. So there we were in Snobsville North, where I knew no one and no one felt any craving to make friends with white trash of my ilk.
(No, in case you haven’t figured it out: My parents were not professionals, they were not even college graduates, and they knew nothing about how to function as socialites…)
The marriage didn’t survive that fun period. I ended up back south where the WT live, and then eventually skipped around to the far side of the tony North Central district, landed in some apartments on the north side, and extracted a full-time teaching job from Arizona State University.
At any rate, leaving the Encanto District to move up to North Central meant leaving behind beloved neighbors, beautiful historic houses, and a wonderful central location close to cultural and entertainment amenities. Eventually it also meant me leaving behind the marriage, the lawyer, and the trying social life…and the beloved neighbors, the beautiful historic houses, and the central city location with its proximity to cultural and entertainment amenities.
Ohhh well…
Since then, a lot of things have changed. A full-time job at the Great Desert University meant I could support myself. My parents’ dying, one at a time, meant I had no one to nag me to stay in the (highly advantageous) marriage. But their demise also left me with enough money to support me for the rest of my life. I bought into a decent neighborhood on the fringe of North Central, and here we are.
But I still miss the lovely Encanto district. Cruising the area, I wondered: would I like to sell my house here on the fringe of Sunnyslope and move back downtown?
The answer is mixed. A lot of things are improved up here on the north end of North Central, as compared to the picturesque historic Encanto district. But a lot of things are de-proved, as it were…
Why move?
- Sunnyslope is kind of menacing. It is, after all, a high-crime area.
- We therefore have lots of noise from cop helicopters.
- Then there’s the noise from the annoying lightrail train.
- The noise from traffic and sirens on Conduit of Blight Blvd amplify the racket.
- And we do have some interestingly sh!t-headed neighbors.
Why NOT move?
- I could in theory walk to two markets & a drugstore from here. My spectacularly superannuated great-grandmother used to walk that far several times a week in Berkeley: straight uphill. Here, though, to get through the heat and dodge the panhandlers and thieves, you have to drive to the stores or use Uber.
- M’hijito wants this house.
- I don’t know anybody downtown anymore.
- Young people who don’t like older people infest that place — Encanto is Encanto because of the young people who covet the beautiful historic homes. Discrimination against elders is a real thing, and it’s likely to be far worse there in Yuppieville than it is up here in a more diverse neighborhood.
- It’s even noisier there than it is here (she says,. as a plane buzzes overhead…).
- One wonders: why spend that kinda money for not much improvement in lifestyle?
- The pool here is an expensive nuisance, but it could be drained and decked.
- The Romanian Landlord’s tribe are shitheads, but WGAS? And what guarantees that you won’t have shitheads there?
Many more nuances come into play:
- Care of elders: soon enough, I may have to hire someone to come in to care for me, or else move into a long-term care facility.
- This house is paid for and in good condition. If I pass it to M’jito he could move in here and have a palatial little shack with a pool and about four times more space than he needs.
- On the other hand, who wants to pay for and ride herd on four times more space than you need?
- Unloading this place and moving into a care facility might greatly reduce my taxes.
- This area is really not very safe.
- But then, neither is the area where M’jito lives. Toss-up!
The truth is, I don’t know which way to jump because it probably doesn’t matter which way one jumps. Either way presents a set of pro’s and a set of con’s.
So…we’re cast back on that reliable old adage:
When in doubt, don ‘t.
Waiting…and waiting…and waiting…and waiting…