Ebbing and Flowing

I've led one helluva life so far, especially for a small-town, poor girl from SoDak.

How could Barbie-playing Chasity ever know grad student Chaz would end up in New York City, the city of her dreams, unbeknownst to her until she walked the streets that defined her for almost ten years when she said, ahhh, this is where I'm supposed to be.

Stories and people from that timeline will never leave me.

It was the summer of '08. My husband and I rented a little house on the Jersey shore for the month of June to break from the market crash chaos and reflect in the sun.

People were getting laid off all over Manhattan as the markets plummeted, and we found ourselves amidst a serious life debate: accept the severance package and move back to South Dakota, or ride the wave and call New Jersey/New York our forever home?

One night under the stars, during a long rinse in the outdoor shower of our little beach bungalow, after a sun-filled day on the beach with tides changing, sand castles erecting, hermit crabs skittering, frisbees flying, atmosphere spreading, I decided I loved it, and I appreciated everything about my life on the east coast, and I would forever cherish it, but it was time to return home. Hubz agreed.

We took the deal, solidified by the news of baby 2 in my belly plus baby 1 just turning 1, wanting to raise our children closer to family.

He normally commuted from our Hoboken, NJ apartment across the Hudson River from Manhattan via PATH train that runs under the water, but during our month on the shore, he drove Ocean Drive to catch a ferry at the Atlantic Highlands, boat docks north of Doris & Ed's, the first fancy seafood restaurant I ever went to thanks to the couple I nannied for one summer turned into two summers turned into a lifetime friendship from the onset.

I drove him to the docks our last morning there because I needed the car for the day. Memories of the past eight years slapped me from every direction as I meandered through the town where I nannied the first summer I entered New Jersey, the first time I left South Dakota for longer than a few days, first time I traveled across country, first time I ate swordfish and sea bass and rack of lamb and veal, and oh so many vegetables that didn't make it into the cans in my family's kitchen pantry.

I cried when I drove back to our little abode, cried throughout the day, cried when I picked him up after work, cried when we went to Doris & Ed's (now closed) for the last time.

I knew I was saying good-bye to a relationship I loved and cherished for almost a decade, and I was sad. We lived in Hoboken and Jersey City and worked in Manhattan the gist of our time out east, but those first two summers I spent as a nanny on the Jersey shore will forever remind me of the person I became because I took that leap that summer with no job, no car, no money, no inhibition apparently, and it worked out better than I ever could have imagined. And I would miss the Jersey shore bars, blaring their very own, local legends forever, the Boss and Bon Jovi.

We moved back into our Hoboken apartment for July while packing then said adios for good the beginning of August 2008, 12 years this summer. Hard to believe.

New Jersey will forever be my second home. New York City will forever by my favorite place. The suffering they're enduring is breaking my heart.

Because I don't believe in wallowing for too long, or at least as long as my heart can hold up, I try to spend my east coast thoughts on the good times, the crazy times, the forever singed into my brain times that will always make me smile, will always warm my heart, maybe even mend it while my east coast friends fight through yet another challenge exacerbated when 1.6 million people cram onto a small island, spreading to the boroughs all interconnected, as we all are.

People. Transit on top but with a root system that runs deep.

Rewind to 1999...

I just finished my second year of grad school, seeking summer employment, seeking a change of atmosphere, seeking a reason to check out from the info-explosion of English Rhetoric, so when I was a few tall dark beers deep, I said yes to my friend Jon's proposal to drive his car to New Jersey for the summer. His suspended license keeping him illegal for a couple more weeks.

Why the hell not?! I don't think my boyfriend understood my itch to run but he knew. "Do what you gotta do, babe." I packed up my studio apartment in about 24 hours and headed east, first stop: Chicago.

A third guy rode with us from Brookings, SD to Chicago to live with his brother for the summer; we spent our first night in his railroad apartment with rooftop access where we grilled ribs and watched the Cubs game a few city blocks over.

The next morning we visited a friend's workplace, he a groundskeeper at one of the most prestigious golf courses and guess who teed off in front of us? Chi-town's very own, Michael Jordan.

We ditched our third wheel and drove on to Detroit where we spent the night with Jon's brother. Revision... we were going to spend the night with Jon's brother, but instead we brought over a 6-pack of something, each drank three, smoked the joint the brother shared, then decided it was a good idea to take off at 10 o'clock at night after driving all day, drinking a few brewskies, hittin' the doobie.

Interstate driving through Ohio and Pennsylvania with 18-wheelers whizzing past your enlightened ass in the middle of the night probably wasn't the smartest move, neither was Jon's offer to drive for a bit while I slept but I let him and we made it to Philadelphia just in time for morning rush hour, realizing so when we took the business route vs the roundabout. You live then learn.

Like that the NJ Turnpike exits pop up only every 7-10+ miles or so, not as often as you would think, especially when you realize you've gone too far south, in fact as far south as you can go on the NJ Turnpike and still be in NJ, damnet! We may have decided to light up some leftover MJ considering our climb back north and still further east.

You can imagine us in a beat up Grand Prix, South Dakota plates, bike perched atop, following the speed limit signs of 55 while locals flew past pressing their pedals past 90.

We had quite an adventure! I landed in Monmouth Beach, while his internship was in Atlantic City, little over an hour south. We met up a couple times, once in Philadelphia to see Indigenous, a band we both followed through college, they played at the bar where he dj'd and all our mutual friends gathered. We saw Indigenous transition through years of heartache and hardship, but on the same stage at the same bar every year. It was rad to experience them in an old playhouse with red velvet curtains somewhere in Philly's Chinatown.

My cousin lived in NJ working as a nanny, hence why I went. She told me she could get me a job, so I trusted her, and that she did. The best job in the world because it introduced me to some of the best people in the world I had ever met, and that's no lie. Their kindness and generosity sent me into a trajectory I hadn't considered, and when given the opportunity to consider it, and to respond with a hell yeah, well yeah, they changed my life.

Pivotal people.

I shall float through the rest of my day remembering that feeling of saying yes to nothing but the universe, and she delivering in my complete surrender.