|Moving Day, 2004|
It went by earlier this week pretty much unnoticed, but last Tuesday marked the nine-year anniversary of moving into this house.
A nine-year anniversary may not seem that significant - better to wait for the 10th - but nine years marks the longest that I've ever lived in one place for close to 60 years now.
As a young child, I lived in Levittown on Long Island, New York, until I was 8, and can remember two separate addresses - Needle Lane and Sunrise Lane (I wonder if they still use the street name "Needle Lane" anymore or if it was a victim of the War on Drugs?).
We spent 8 more years further out on the Island - the Town of St. James on Suffolk County's north shore. That's pretty much what I consider my "childhood home" - it's basically where I came of age - although it represents just a little over an eighth of my life.
After leaving St. James, I hardly lived anywhere for more than four or five years, including Boston, which is my default answer to the inevitable "where are you from?" question, even though I've also lived in northern New Jersey; Long Island's south shore; Atlanta; Albany, New York; Pittsburgh; and Atlanta (again), for as long or longer, although at no single address for more than six years. For what it's worth, I still cheer for New England sports teams (the Red Sox beat the Yankees today!), even though I've been gone for 32 years now.
But it seems I've finally settled into this pile of bricks on top of a hill here in Atlanta, Georgia (of all places). I almost left here in 2008 for a job offer in Portland, Oregon, but the economic crisis of that difficult year prevented me from selling this old house and kept me here - probably, in retrospect, for the best.
So a belated toast to This Old House, and to This Old Man who patiently lives within.