As some of you know, Mr. Workfriend is leaving NYC and heading out to San Francisco at the end of October. Although, our acquaintance has been relatively brief (since I only arrived in NYC this past Spring), Mr. Workfriend has proven to be a genuinely cool dude, and I will be sad to see him go. In honor of his departure, I would like to bid adieu with a post about something that we all grapple with from time to time -- moving on.
It seems like my NYC family is always, in one way or another moving on -- R moving from single life into married, L giving up one crush in the search for another, J leaving her job here for one in D.C.... Whether moving on means physically moving out of a city or emotionally moving away from a person, "goodbye" can be a pretty hard word to say. Yet, it is my personal philosophy that we are all perpetually changing, and therefore are also all constantly saying our small good-byes -- to the people we once were, to the ideals we once held, to our fragile conceptions about life's truths. Even outside of New York, I have a number of friends and family working on their own attempts at moving on -- JI giving up the single life, JK's drawn out divorce, MS breaking-up once and for all, as well as my own transition to New York City. We are all, at the same time, looking forward to our respective changes and looking back on what we are necessarily leaving. Life is circular, and there is rarely a beginning without an end.
Over the last few years, I have personally done a lot of moving on. Some of it has required of me very difficult and quick decision-making. Some has required persistence and planning. Some has been thrust upon me completely involuntarily. Let me say up front that I am very satisfied with where I am at this point in my life. Somehow, that infamous cocktail of upheaval and introspection has yielded what I consider a glorious outcome. The sum total of all of my personal changes has been overwhelmingly positive. But, moving on is just that -- a change, or series of changes, that lands you in a place to some extent removed from where you began. Change can be overwhelming. Some people are more open to it than others. It took my father a decade to finally get a cell phone and five more years even learn how to send a text message. In that same amount of time, my mother got a Blackberry, a Facebook page, and a Skype account. But, when it comes to things more personal than technology, change can be traumatic, even when it is welcome.
My friends and family generally know that I was not entirely devastated by my divorce two years ago. For various and sundry reasons, it was definitely time to leave. As far as most of them know, I never even cried. But, the day my ex-husband physically moved his stuff out of the house we had shared, I came home just as his friend was closing up the moving van they had rented. I found my ex inside, about to walk out the front door for the last time. I knew this change was hard for him (he was not what I'd call a flexible personality), so I did not drag out our last farewell. We hugged. I wished him well. He told me it was not too late to change my mind. I smiled and said good-bye. It was neither earth-shattering nor Oscar-worthy. He closed the front door. I stood there in the hallway for about thirty seconds. In my empty house, everything was absolutely quiet and still. It seemed like an eternity. Then, all at once the magnitude of this change, of the abrupt about face of the direction of my life, hit me like a ton of bricks. Despite that fact that this was what I wanted, that it was a good change, the finality of that good-bye finally made me cry.
I was not lamenting the loss of a wonderful relationship. I had no qualms about taking my life in a new direction. In fact, I was excited at the prospect of starting over. But, standing there in that moment, I was suspended between the future and the past. As uncomfortable a fit as my life had been up to that point, it was at the very least familiar. For the first time in my life, I truly felt alone -- one door had closed and all that stretched before me was unknown. At the time, I told my mother that I didn't really know why I was crying. I was happy, excited, and hopeful -- so why the tears? Now, I think I understand that I left more behind than a marriage -- I left behind who I was when I was married. And, while I wouldn't want to be that person ever again, admitting fault with oneself and consequently changing (whether we are carving pieces out or adding on) can be excruciating. The person who I was that allowed me to be in that marriage had been altered on the trip out of it.
It is this sort of submission that breeds long-term regret. I am of the opinion that, generally, we regret in the short-term the things that we do (that extra tequila shot, speaking out of turn, a one-night stand), but we regret in the long-term the things that we do not. (I would personally rather cope with consequences than wonder what might have been.) If we are not changing, we are stagnating. So, while in letting go of what we know and jumping into the unknown we may very well fall flat on our faces, we stand to lose a lot more by holding on. I think Vincent Van Gogh had it right when he said, "The fishermen know that the sea is dangerous and the storm terrible, but they have never found these dangers sufficient reason for remaining ashore." Change brings with it an ocean of possibilities. And, though it entails a certain amount of risk, it also carries with it innumerable potential rewards. While it is natural to feel the pangs of sadness that accompany good-byes, let us still embrace that unknown and take comfort in the knowledge that the only wrong choice is the failure to choose at all. Besides, if it doesn't work out, it is never too late for a change.
I spent this past weekend back in Cleveland, taking trips down memory lane. And while I had a great time indulging in some unmitigated nostalgia and connecting with old friends, I did not regret for a moment my decision to move on to NYC. By embracing the unknown, I embraced endless possibilities. We know what will happen if we stay at home, but not what will happen if we venture out. And, as if you need any more reason than that, here are some great places to venture to, whether you are in Cleveland or NYC:
777 Starkweather, Tremont (Cleveland, Ohio)
At any given time, 70 to 90% of the menu is locally grown. This place is small but mighty. I would venture to guess that it is impossible to order poorly. I had the curry tofu scramble (otherwise known as the Canoewreck), which was seasoned perfectly. The waiter convinced us to try the maple and pecan crusted bacon, which was twice rendered and three times fabulous. Even the bread was addictive. sort of randomly located along a quiet semi-residential street in the Tremont neighborhood of Cleveland, this is one of the two best brunch places in Cleveland. No contest.
Tea House Noodles
2218 Murray Hill, Little Italy (Cleveland, Ohio)
The Treehouse
820 College Ave., Tremont (Cleveland, Ohio)
This could be any one of the warm and cozy bars snuggled into the quaint streets of Tremont, except that it has a giant tree growing right out of the middle. Any bar that has Magic Hat #9 on tap is alright with me. Being in Tremont, it also had the right median patron age and sizable crowd. If you get tired it this place, just try the Flying Monkey down the street (with a two sided bar, which is deceptively big) or Bier Markt in Ohio City (if you want to increase your chances of being hit on). You really can't go wrong on the near-West side of Cleveland. (Unless you find yourself in the flats, and then, I hope you carry a crowbar in your purse for protection.)Henry's End
44 Henry Street (btw Cranberry and Middagh), Brooklyn Heights
Absolutely adorable place tucked away near the Brooklyn Bridge. The woman and man presiding over the waitstaff duties were quirky and hilarious. And genuinely nice. It's got an interesting menu that includes the standard chicken, fish, and pasta, but ventures into the less familiar realms of game like buffalo and kangaroo. Plus the wine selection is more than acceptable. Do yourself a favor and walk over the Brooklyn Bridge at night, stop in here, and wander back. It's nothing short of magical.
El Rio Grande
Corner of Lexington and 3rd Ave.
Finally, in honor of my departing Mr. Workfriend, we tried this place for his farewell lunch. Obviously, it's Mexican,s o they brought out the usual chips and salsa to start. Interestingly, they also brought out a plate full of little tid-bits to add in, like onions, cilantro, and a whole jalapeno pepper (which Mr. Workfriend proceeded to eat wholesale without flinching -- impressive). It was decent food for sure. Maybe not the best Mexican I've had in New York City, but the competition is steep. It was, however, quiet, bright, and pleasant -- an acceptable place for a business lunch or a bite to eat if you're in the Murray Hill neighborhood.
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