"That's Just How We've Always Done It"

Stopped in traffic on the 207th Street Bridge

We used to poke fun at locals in Pennsylvania, both in Juniata County (where we taught high school for two years) and in Franklin County (where we lived for eight years). Though born-and-raised Pennsylvanians ourselves, we each hail from different parts of the state. And we saw everywhere a kind of indigenous logic that the "natives" simply seemed to know, but which non-natives such as ourselves struggled to comprehend. Have you ever gotten directions from someone who included landmarks that no longer exist? (Our favorite in Franklin County was “Turn where the Sheetz used to be.”) Bizarre intersections mock common sense (“Stop except left turn”), but somehow traffic flows through them without incident (most of the time, of course). If you’ve ever been frustrated by local “traditions,” bristled when someone pines for “how it used to be,” or – worst of all – states the dreaded words “That’s just how we’ve always done it,” then you know what I mean.

New York City is completely different. Completely.

And by that I mean, of course, that their bizarre traditions and cultural oddities are different than the bizarre traditions and cultural oddities we had to learn in other places.

It doesn’t surprise us, really, that we’re still dealing with this stuff up here. We knew that we would become OAFs (Outsiders/Aliens/Foreigners) when we moved, and that learning how to do NYC life would take some time. And I should say that it has not been all weirdness and stress since we’ve been here – not at all. But the weird things do stand out, of course.

We haven’t been here long, and I’m sure we’ll have more examples as time goes by, but for us so far, the most glaring example of this cultural weirdness has to be parking. It’s crazy and terrible and stressful. Most places, outside of big cities, take parking for granted. Wherever one goes, whether to Walmart, the post office, the grocery store, or a friend’s house, there will be parking; when I go home, I will park in my garage/driveway/etc. Not so in the city.

Parking is a crapshoot. Unless you pay exorbitant fees for reserved spaces, there is no guarantee that you will be able to find a convenient parking spot anywhere, including where you live. As a general rule, if you can take public transportation somewhere, then you should take public transportation. We’ve been to a particular church four times now, and haven’t driven there once, even though it would definitely be faster than taking the bus. But there’s hardly anywhere to park, so we bus it.

Complicating everything is the misery that is alternate-side parking. This video from the New York Times explains it much better than I would be able to: Swept Away: The Parking Dance in New York City (I am all for the councilman's proposal, incidentally).

I am constantly thinking about our van and where it’s parked. How long can I leave it there? Did I fold back my side view mirror? After I come back from dropping Ginny off at school, will there be a spot on the right side of the street? If not, what am I going to do for the hour and a half when I can’t park there? What about if someone comes to visit us? Where will they park?

It’s weird that I am constantly thinking about parking. But ironically, stressing out about parking, I’ve found, makes me fit right in with car owners in New York City. Everybody deals with this! It’s reassuring to find out that you’re not the only one who has a problem, that someone else (or in fact, everybody else) has the same issues you do.

Our first busted mirror

So yes, it’s weird, and the system has lots of flaws. But we’re learning some strategies, some little tricks (we found two nearby grocery stores that do have small parking lots, so I’ll go when they sweep the street).

And I’ll never again take a parking space for granted. Even if all the locals are weird. 

We Sent the Check

We had a dilemma. Kind of. Well, at first it seemed like a dilemma, but the more we talked about it and prayed about it, the less it seemed like one. We had to choose whether or not to do something, but dilemmas typically involve two relatively equal options, either equally positive or equally negative, and our current situation ultimately didn’t meet the criteria.

We could either send in the registration check to Manhattan Christian Academy, the school we fell in love with and would like our daughter to attend in the fall, OR we could wait to send the check until we raised more financial support and we were more confident that we will, indeed, be relocating to the Bronx later this year. There were several things to consider:

1: We can’t wait too long, because it’s not a big school and someone else may just jump in and take Ginny’s spot. OK, so send the check!

2: The fee is nonrefundable. If somehow we’re unable to make the move by August, we’d be out $325. OK, so wait for a bit!

3: If we lose the spot, we’d be starting from scratch with where to send Ginny for school. So, send the check!

4:  It’s big and scary and daunting to make this commitment before we have, well, any support at all to stand on. Um, yeah, that is a little scary. Good luck with that one.

We sent the check.

Whenever we described the “dilemma” to someone, it went something like this: “We have to decide whether we should commit to reserving a spot for Ginny, and step out on faith that we’ll get the support we need, or if we should wait until we have more of that support in before we make any definite plans.”

The more we stated the problem, the more it sounded to our own ears like this: “We need to decide if we should trust in God or trust in the money we’re trying to raise.”

Yeah, doesn’t sound so much like a dilemma anymore. We'd much rather put our faith in God than in money. Those two options are definitely not equal.

Does it make sense to reserve a spot for Ginny before we're 100% sure that we'll be able to move to New York this summer? We think so, because we want to live by faith and not by sight. It’s definitely still scary, but playing it safe is totally overrated.

Freaking Out Our Friends

I freaked out another friend last night. He asked if we planned on staying in our current house when our third child arrives in May. I told him that we were planning on moving, but not because of the baby: We want to move to New York this summer.

“New York? You mean upstate, or the city, or…”

“Um, the Bronx.”

“The Bronx?!”

I could hear the shock in his voice, and his unspoken follow-up, which was either “But it’s so dangerous!” or “Are you crazy?!”

His response, Bethany and I have noted, is not uncommon. Apparently the Bronx has a reputation.

He seemed to recoil for a moment. I had alarmed the coils right out of him.

So I explained what and why and (we hope) when. He asked what kinds of people we would be living among, that is, what the ethnic makeup of the neighborhood would be. I said that it would be mostly Hispanic, though the Bronx’s Little Italy is only a couple of blocks away, and there are a good number of west Africans there too. It is New York City, after all, so there are all kinds of people there.

He also asked about money, and how far along we were in our fundraising. We’re still pretty early in that process, I said, though we have started gathering something called a MOST Team around us (It’s kind of like a prayer team who also acts like an advisory board), and that our church missions committee was fully on board with us, as are our pastor and church staff.

Then we talked about lots of other things: politics, Germany, accordions, hurricanes, and kindergarten.

My friend asked his question because he wanted to know if we were looking for a bigger house once we become a family of five. Ironically, we will likely be getting a smaller place after the baby is born. Funny, huh?