We are adding to the writing ranks at HeyFairfield. Today, I’d like to introduce you to Kathy. She’s a great writer and has a fantastic sense of humor. I hope you enjoy her posts as much as I do. I’ll let her introduce herself….. (ed)
I moved to the area three years ago, escaping a roach-infested apartment in Brooklyn. It was in a great neighborhood and the rent couldn’t be beat, but the atmosphere was atrocious. Our landlady lived below us, her stepson above us, and their daily shouting matches interrupted dinners, quiet conversation and potentially relaxing evenings. Then there was the stampeding child that also lived upstairs, who like a gerbil ran back and forth late into the night. Oh, and how can I forget the water running down our bathroom walls whenever the upstairs toilet flushed? The stepson begged us not to tell his mother, promised to get it fixed but it never seemed to happen. Finally I told our landlady as gently as I could and braced for the firestorm. So, when my husband and I were looking for a house in Fairfield County, I didn’t have the presence of mind to crunch the numbers: commuting time vs. quality time at home; thousands of blades of grass to mow each week; a gazillion slippery petals falling from the magnolia tree in our front yard. Once our son was born, the commute felt longer; the grass seemed to grow faster; the tree massive—I swear it flowers twice a year. I was laid off in December. Still on the job search, I’ve had lots of time to enjoy the community. I have to say, folks in Fairfield are good, caring people. Neighbors say hello—and sometimes mow your lawn for free. The Art Center in the middle of town draws big names. There are farmer’s markets, concerts on the green, neighborhood coffee shops where at least some people know your name. People plant flowers in the spring. There’s even the occasional loud, late-night house-party down the street that almost makes you want to call the cops. This is community. This is Fairfield, a town like no other. If only I could afford to live here (or there?); for now, we live on the other side of Park Avenue, in Bridgeport. And while Bridgeport is not unlike Brooklyn with its edgy, up-and-coming, urban-cool vibe, Fairfield is the Promised Land that has been home to generations of my husband’s kin. OK, so maybe it was his immediate family only, but they were the pioneers, leaving the South to live far away in a place called Connecticut. So I wait—for a job, preferably high-paying so we can move to Fairfield; and I write, and wait, and write. For now, my blog will live in Fairfield, and for now that will be enough. I hope you visit often, and well.
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