Given the presence on the site this week of Todd–guest blogger, swell fellow, and Jersey resident–I feel compelled to ask a few simple questions of my fellow DadWagoners:
- What the hell are we doing in New York?
- Are we gluttons for punishment? Masochists? Opera lovers?
- Shouldn’t we all just sell our meager holdings on the proper side of the Hudson, and skedaddle for the swamps, pine barrens, chemical dumps, and gangster graveyards of the Garden State?
The reasons to go are patently obvious: (relatively) affordable homes; adequate schools; and of course, the gas, the lovely, sweet petrol, is always full-serve, by law! What’s not to love?
For me, though, the answer is, no, we should not move to New Jersey, and largely because it would be a breach of contract if I did so. My divorce agreement stipulates where I can live (to prevent one parent from moving out of state, or the like, and thereby making it impossible for the other one to see JP), and New Jersey isn’t on the list of acceptable neighborhoods (then again, Queens isn’t either, but Manhattan is–you figure out that logic). But would I go if I could? I don’t really know. The idea of it doesn’t seem all that appealing–the traffic at the Holland Tunnel, the spray-on tans–but without it being a possibility, it’s hard to say what I’d do.
So, I will leave the residential existentialism to my colleagues. Boys, I put it to you: Meadowlands or bust?