It’s Not You, It’s Me.
When NYC imposed a shelter in place back in March, I decided to uproot my family from Manhattan and headed to the suburbs. On March 18th, my partner, Andy, and I sat our twin 8 year-old boys — Sebastian and Phoenix — down and tried to explain what was happening in the world and how our lives were going to change. Since then, I have had plenty of time to evaluate our lives, both personally and professionally. We realized that all the things we thought we needed from the city weren’t actually as important as they were before. Without all the distractions, we could now focus on what was truly important — each other. We acknowledge our privilege: So few of us have jobs that allow us to transplant an entire family without disruption, and fewer still have the power to make those decisions for ourselves. My medical practice, Bespoke Surgical, never closed, I was able to keep all of our staff, and we have been able to adapt and still serve our patients during these especially critical times, including offering Covid-19 testing.
We didn’t expect that our last day in Manhattan was going to be March 18. Nor did we expect to find ourselves bouncing from one temporary residence to the next for five months.
Eventually, our two kids sat us down: “Evan and Andy,” they said (that’s what they usually call us if not ‘Daddy and Papa’), “We have two requests and they must be honored. Pinky promise. One, can we please stop moving around so much? Two, can we just grow up out here in the country? We love it!” Andy responded immediately: “Please tell us why you feel so passionate about living out your childhood in Northern Westchester?” Probably expecting that question, Sebastian responded quickly: “New York City is so crowded and noisy, with even the simplest of activities, like getting a slice of pizza, being so complicated! Up, down, subway after subway, people everywhere. Life shouldn’t be so complicated!” All this coming from an 8 year old!
And just like that, it hit me. I realized how selfish I had been. I had always wanted to live in Manhattan. Didn’t everyone? Growing up, I was so envious of my city friends from sleep away camp. How amazing to have everything at your fingertips. Broadway, Madison Square Garden for sporting events, concerts, Central Park as your backyard, and all the museums you could ask for. The mix of culture and people. It was the ultimate melting pot. How fucking cool would it be to give my kids what I wasn’t fortunate enough to have as a child!?
Caught up in that ideal, we never realized how crazy our routines had become and I never stopped to think if my family wanted something different. Then, the pandemic hit, forcing us to slow down. I recalled a famous quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson that really hit home:
“To speak truly, few adult persons can see nature. Most persons do not see the sun. At least they have a very superficial seeing. The sun illuminates only the eye of the man, but shines into the eye and the heart of the child. The lover of nature is he whose inward and outward senses are still truly adjusted to each other; who has retained the spirit of infancy even into the era of manhood.”
With this — and our kids — in mind, both Andy and I had to do some real soul searching to figure out our next chess move. Andy and I had been looking at the country for years, thinking maybe it was best for the kids, but the city kept drawing us back. We honestly weren’t sure a family with two dads would fit in well. But now, witnessing the birds chirping in our backyard, the thunderstorms on the front porch, and the evenings catching fireflies, the decision was actually our simplest yet. Sebastian could see it all along.
On July 24th, we packed up the rest of our belongings and officially said goodbye to living in Manhattan. I wouldn’t, however, ever leave my patients. I always thought commuting would be tiresome for me and terrible for my kids. Growing up, I saw my father commuting and promised, “I will never be that guy!” Well, now I am that guy. But to be honest, I need that hour (each way) alone. It winds me down from the chaos of the city, shifting my mindset. The in-and-out workweek has been an interesting change, but better than expected.
We all have had to adapt in different ways. For many, this time has been one of great struggle: job losses, a country in crisis, friends and loved ones getting sick. My family and I recognize how privileged we are, how we benefit from structural systems that give us the freedom to move while denying that same freedom to so many others who work just as hard. I hope everyone’s “new normal” eventually blossoms into something positive. I still feel quite selfish to have assumed my children always wanted the same things I did. At their age, I understand that they have their own individualized needs. And sometimes, even with the best intentions, what I have provided may not always be ideal for them. This pandemic has allowed our family to re-evaluate its future, all while living for today.
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