Moving to Northampton

I see from looking at my previous (infrequent) posts that I never talked about moving to Northampton. I moved on August 31st, 2023. The biggest reason was to be near my two daughters and my one granddaughter, who live close by. Cost of living was another factor, where I have a 1-bedroom here for $1400 as opposed to the $2500 my landlord had proposed for the coming year in Waltham. I had lived in the greater Boston area since 1978. (I moved into my Cambridge shared apartment on a Saturday evening of Labor Day weekend, and in those days supermarkets were closed on Sundays and also on holidays -- two days in a row. Remember those days? For 2.5 days I was getting by on what the 7-11 carried.) But after 45 years, there really wasn't anything holding me in Boston any more. I never did take advantage of the cultural opportunities, I had been drifting away from the FUSN community over the course of years, and had hardly any friends in town, and even with them most of the communication was by email, which can be done from anywhere. One small amusing fact is that whenever I moved, it was from one city/town to an adjacent one. Cambridge, Brighton, Brookline, Newton, Watertown, and Waltham. I was in Newton 27 years.

I'm in a condominium building, and have no complaints. And yet it doesn't feel like home.

The last time I felt excited about where I lived was when I moved to 38 California Street in Watertown, back in August of 2016. I had been living in a rather cozy in-law apartment the previous 4 years. It was perfectly adequate but not exciting. But the California Street place was in a converted attic, with high, sloping ceilings, skylights, and an airy feel. It was right by the Watertown falls of the Charles River, and had a lovely view. I enjoyed walking along the Charles on the MDC paths. I like many others was excited at the prospect of our first female president, following two terms of the decent and classy Barack Obama. Donald Trump was repulsive, but he would be soundly defeated and the Republicans taught a lesson about nominating someone like that. But it didn't turn out that way. The afternoon of Tuesday, November 8th was the last sunlight on an era of hope.

For the first few months at California Street, I was aware every day of the falls and the river. That naturally faded with time. Then came Covid, and then the news that the landlady would be selling the place so it was time to move. After 5 years I moved to a one-bedroom place in Waltham. It was adequate, but the landlord was weird and intrusive. At the close of the first year he told me my rent of $1,888 a month had been a special, introductory rate and after lots of back and forth, decided the next year's rent would be $2,200. My daughter Becky volunteered to be an intermediary because I hated dealing with his aggressive style. He suggested I should start paying the higher rent two months before the end of the current lease, and he wanted me to add money to the security deposit -- which is apparently illegal, and Becky talked him out of both. That sort of weirdness. The question became not whether I would leave, but when. I stuck it out one more year. Now there is every reason to think I can stay in this place in Northampton as long as I can live independently. I was anxious about what would happen if the owner sold the condo, and daughter Becky told me I could afford to buy it from her. Owning something was not a goal of mine, but if a place is known and comfortable, I would be happy to do it so I could stay put.

So while I can stay put, it doesn't feel like home. "Home" implies a certain ease and comfort and attachment to place. For me this is just a place to live. I shouldn't make it sound like Donald Trump was the cause of my no longer feeling like a place is home. It was a long, slow process of caring less about that sort of thing.

I suffer from chronic depression, and for some 20 years now it has been pretty well controlled with bupropion and lamotrigine -- but that is not to say I am happy. I try to focus on bright moments, and pass the time with computer games and an active online life. But it would be a stretch to say I am happy.

In other news, I got a hearing aid shortly after moving here. My right ear is so bad that a hearing aid can't help it, but the device in my left ear is good for such things as conversing with people in noisy places. One thing I didn't expect, though, was that I found the improved hearing at higher frequency sounds to be unpleasant. I only wear the hearing aid when I go out -- which might be once or twice a week. Even listening to music at home, I enjoy it more without the hearing aid. This is apparently a rather common reaction.