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Suburbs

A Slice of Americana…Revisited

February 18, 2021 by Daniel Levitz

Finding Joy and Experiencing Hope in the Traditions and Continuity of Suburban Living

“I think an artist like Norman Rockwell would have done just fine here, inspiration-wise.”

I am writing this a day after the wonderful Presidential inauguration. When we moved out of the City years ago there was a “red” administration in Washington followed by a “blue” one and so on and so forth as the years flew by. With the hellacious year of 2020 now behind us, politics aside, as a nation we are all looking forward to meaningful change and progress. 

I’ve written here frequently about the cul-de-sac where we live. It doesn’t look or feel particularly different from year to year. Sure, we now have a sidewalk encouraging pedestrian activity, but otherwise there’s a reassuring steadiness to life here which helps folks carry on in such a fraught time while we await and long for better days.

When we moved into our yellow house we had no idea that life in the cul-de-sac would end up being a self-replicating slice of Americana. A lot of this bucolic suburban existence, at first glance, might appear mundane. 

However, within the semi-chaotic day-to-day lives most families with small children experience, a comforting repetition feels essential and sometimes beautiful. In other words, I think an artist like Norman Rockwell would have done just fine here, inspiration-wise.

Upon moving here, I was immediately struck by a simple act by our new next door neighbors. A knock on the door and a warm loaf of fresh-baked homemade bread was hand delivered as a means of introduction and welcome. Laurie and I were taken with this simple but lovely gesture and, for a minute, it calmed the turmoil of leaving apartment living in the city and starting over with our two still very young children. Even better, our new next door neighbors became dear friends. 

When those same next door neighbors moved to another state a few years ago it felt like the end of an era. Sometimes proximity is a fine ingredient for relationships. The warm feelings would carry on but, no doubt, things would be different. 

Upon reflection, these neighbors leaving cul-de-sac were just one domino in the chain. In fact, in the last several years literally every house next to ours or in close proximity has seen new families move in. It feels astounding to note that without even realizing it, almost in a blink of an eye, we went from the new kids on the block to the seasoned neighbors who are newer counterparts to turn to for guidance.  

With all families now enduring pandemic living, life in the cul-de-sac is far more remote than in previous years. It is nice to see people on walks even even with their face masks. You can tell they are still smiling with a wave and a hello. In this environment, it’s still the connection we need.

Embracing the Constants

Significantly comforting too are the ‘constants’, the steady reliable features of suburban living. The bus stop right in front of our house initially served as an introduction to the neighborhood. Kids meeting kids and us meeting other parents and caretakers. That daily interaction was not only socially meaningful but threw us into neighborhood circulation in an organic, no looking back manner.  

Now, with our children years past using the bus stop, there are new families with their kids waiting for the bus. That annual continuity, along with remembering the feeling of being part of it, is a sweet confirmation that however life may evolve, there are certain foundational pieces one can always rely upon.

Within the first few weeks of moving here there was a block party in the cul-de-sac. At that moment, for me, it felt like a mildly hokey social obligation and facing it as a new family just felt difficult. My sometimes panicky neuroticism aside, more thoughtful voices endured, and we went. It turned out to be a very enjoyable and bonding time–a fine tradition.

We had similar neighborhood parties over the years, but not since most of the new families have landed here. As we approach almost a full year of pandemic living, I’m looking forward to the old normal, like a block party that right now, is just impossible. Odd to be looking towards an event that will manage to be a tradition and a change simultaneously. Hopefully before long.

Filed Under: Inside Thoughts Tagged With: Americana, Essay, etcetera, Norman Rockwell, Suburbs, traditions

Bear Hunting in the ‘Burbs with My Son

February 22, 2020 by Jennifer Drubin Clark

One of the bears sighted during our hunt
PHOTO BY Jennifer Drubin Clark

We were bored. REAL bored. “We” being my 3-year-old son and myself. The school day was over, our stomachs were full, the weather was crummy, and we had just about exhausted every activity within our house AND the tri-town area (Armonk, Chappaqua and Bedford as we refer to them). It was then, with fierce intent, the idea-heavens rained down upon us. Before we knew it, we were packing up bags of snacks, clothes and shoes suitable for any terrain, binoculars, a camera, and a pen with paper…we were going on a bear hunt.

Perhaps Michael Rosen, the famed author of “We’re Going on a Bear Hunt” got into our heads?

The car was packed and I found myself more excited about this adventure than any other we’d gone in the past. Why? Because I, mommy here, actually had NO idea where on Westchester’s green earth we were going to find a bear. Yes, a fake one…although I wondered at times if we would have more luck finding a real one?  Anyways, off we went!

The sun shade was down and his binoculars were in full effect as we cruised towards Main Street. Never thought my child could be so silent on a car ride. Bless this bear hunt.

Growing up in the Rocky Mountains, surrounded by carved wooden bears, I had a premonition that we might have a sighting if we headed towards Hickory and Tweed. After all, biking plus skiing = wildlife! The door made its’ familiar jingle as we entered and I secretly prayed that our first bear sighting was going to be just around the corner, literally. FAIL.

“Hi, can I help you find something?” a nice saleswoman asked as Spencer knelt down to focus his binoculars on a piece of dirt.

“Um yea.  We’re actually looking for bears….,” I said.

Spencer looked up at me annoyed that I asked for help. He really wants to feel the hunt. I saw it in his eyes. That’s when the saleswoman and I locked eyes, she must have her own kids…she “got it”, and she “forgot” I asked for help as she motioned her eyeballs up the stairs (where they do rentals/ fittings).

“Momma, there’s no bears in here,” he said.

“Wait bud, let’s check upstairs!,” I replied.

Lo and behold, the carved wooden bear I was hoping to see. He stands tall. My son is beside himself. We document our first sighting with time and location, and snap his picture. I give the nice saleswoman a nudge as we walked out in pure elation and off we went to find our next “furry” friend.

This next one wasn’t so easy, BUT the powers of the universe have a funny way of showing us that they’re paying attention. Spencer NEEDED hot chocolate to carry on. He was just so exhausted and that was the only thing that could bring him the energy we needed to keep on trekking. Keeping in line with our animal hunt theme, we landed at The Beehive.  He opted for whipped cream and I took a pass.

Now, this time for real, no help here, we get back in the car, I do the loopty loop to get out of the parking lot, and I hear and feel violent jeers coming from the back of the car.

“BEAR, BEAR, BEAR, BEAR, BEAR, BEAR,” my son screams excitedly.

Holy crap. Kid scared the freaking hot chocolate out of me. But he wasn’t lying and he sure wasn’t seeing things. There he stood, our next beautiful sighting; perched nicely above the westward parking lot.  Anyone wondering how old a kid is before they’re capable of shedding joyful tears? Three. We jotted down the details from our second sighting, snapped his photo, and slowly regained normal heartbeats.

How were we ever going to top this?!!! I mean we went on a bear hunt and actually found a bear all by ourselves!

As I glanced into my rearview mirror, I saw the yawns coming. My hunting partner was starting to fade. It was 4 p.m. and if I let him fall asleep then, bedtime would be brutal. This is when you pull out your mommy tricks…

“Bud, we did so good today. I can’t believe we found TWO bears!  Ice cream time?” I ask.

He stays up. Our bear hunt ends with us sitting on a cow licking ice cream cones for the day. A few days later, we decided to go on another wildlife hunt. As luck would have it our town is a hotbed of other wildlife including the Armonk Eagle and the Guardian Lions sitting outside of David Chen.

Can you help us find more animals in Armonk? Pack up your kid and your car and go and get your hunt on!

Filed Under: Cover Stories Tagged With: Armonk, Bear Hunt, Essay, Family Fun, Humor, Ice Cream, Suburbs, We're Going on a Bear Hunt

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