LFTNY4NC

Concentrated Area of Relocated Yankees. That’s what the locals say Cary stands for. Cary is a rapidly expanding town outside of Raleigh that was once a dirt patch with cheap land (I know this because my friend Katie’s parents considered buying some of this dirt 30 or so years ago).  Supposedly, at least according to the acronym, many if Cary’s residents are from the north.

The Concentrated Area of Relocated Yankees can be found a few miles outside the Beltline

I work in Cary and on my way to the bank I spotted an SUV with the license plate, LFTNY4NC.  Well, chicky, so did thousands of New Yorkers.

The plate made me laugh, though, mostly because my friend Alex, who is now the editor of the Oceanside Island Park Herald, and I were talking about his desire to write a series about the hardships of twentysomethings on Long Island just 10 minutes before.

To spend the extra money on a designer license plate, I’m assuming this girl is quite happy and proud of her decision to leave the Empire State. Her plate doesn’t convey any remorse or sadness, just a proud New Yorker, living among…other proud New Yorkers.

My coworker, who is originally from New York, suggested this deli around the block. “It’s like a real Italian, New York deli,” he said. “The owners are from New York.”

Oh, well then, in that case, I must try it.

Aside from my kaiser bun being the size of a dinner roll, my Italian “hero” was amazing. I nearly cried knowing I found myself not only a deli, but a good deli.

The next day, I stopped to try the pizza. It was Friday and I missed my tradition of getting pizza with my Herald friends. Having tried plenty of North Carolina pizza, I was skeptical. The people at Roma’s floored me again. Here I was in North Carolina, in South New York, eating a slice of pizza that tasted like it came from an oven in Brooklyn.

Anyway, New York has got to be doing something wrong if an entire area can be characterized by the former residence of it’s townsfolk. That’s not to mention the thousands of former New Yorkers living in Raleigh.

Chuck and I wanted to move to Cary before we found out we’d be one of countless New Yorkers. We did leave the state for reasons other than the cost of living. It’s nice meeting people you have something in common with, but I’d much rather New York get its act together.

Support Circle

The hardest part about moving away is losing your support system.

By moving away, I’ve lost the financial and emotional support from my family. When I need shampoo, I can’t just write it on my mom’s grocery list. Or if I’m too tired to cook, she won’t be there to make me a bowl of chicken soup.

I’ve lost the emotional support from my friends that come with seeing them periodically for coffee or a shopping trip. I spend most of my day alone even when I’m at work.

The hardest part about losing that support system was becoming Chuck’s sole caretaker. While in New York, when Chuck became ill, his parents would bring him to the hospital and get him settled while I made the drive home from work. If I was on deadline, I finished whatever I had to do before making the 45-minute journey to join him in the emergency room.

Now, when Chuck is sick he relies on me to make sure he has a bucket, hand towel and his medical records before getting him to the car and off to the hospital. This forces me to leave work early or come in late, a practice that I knew many prospective employers would not be happy about. Trying to explain the severity of Chuck’s condition will undoubtedly fall on deaf ears as I am being paid to do a job, regardless if I am clocked in for those hours.

We knew that this would be the hardest part about moving and during one bout of episodes I had wondered if we made the right decision moving away so far from home. We weren’t given too many options, but was our move worth it?

We decided that it was, no matter hard hard it is.

Success

Well, we did it.

Last week Chuck and I moved into our first place. It was a success and a debacle in so many ways. Despite having enough stuff to furnish this entire apartment, the phsyical move wasn’t that bad. It was a lot of stuff but the dresser, couches and piano were the hardest and heaviest thing to move.

Somehow, I got out of moving the dresser and the couches. I’m assuming it’s because I’m out of shape.

Getting used couches from our friends saved us a whole buttload of money. Plus, it doesn't matter when the cats destroy them.

The apartment is coming together quite nicely.  The couches are in place as is my dining set and bedroom set. We had finally gotten rid of most of the garbage until I started opening up boxes of  cookware and now we’re back to messy. With a free weekend ahead of us, hopefully we can get everything where it needs to be.

Unlike some of my friends, Chuck and I had enough stuff to furnish this entire apartment. Between friends and family, we accumulated a good portion of everything we would need to get this place together. Right now, the only new thing we own is the bedroom set and that’s only because my mom wanted to keep the set I had at home.

Much of the kitchen could have previously been found in my Nana’s Glendale apartment. Her dining room table and chairs are now in my dining “room” and her dishes , cookware, glasses and flatware are in the cabinets and drawers. Her end tables and lamps now furnish my living room.

Also in the living room are the couches from my friend Tommy and Lisa who were going to put them on the curb about two years ago. They sat in my garage until now. Tommy’s cat tore them up pretty badly prior to getting declawed, but considering I have my own cat that likes to use the couch as his personal scratching post, I don’t feel too bad about it. For as old as they are, they sure are comfy.

Sabrina and Pete gave us a set of pots and pans that were left behind from some previous roommates. I thought they were gently used. Turned out the box was still closed. Randomly, I’ll find something that my parents decided they could do without and ended up here in Raleigh, like a couple of pasta bowls. The rest is ours from Chuck previous apartment or my days in college.

Our apartment, and this stuff inside, my not be new, sparkly and clean, but it’s ours.

Almost Official Residents

Last week we were finally approved for an apartment. We move in on Saturday and not a moment too soon. This hotel is getting expensive and becoming increasingly too small. There is no luxury of having someone clean up after you because the one time we let housekeeping through here, making the bed was all there was evidence of.

Our soon-to-be home.

The bathroom wasn’t cleaned and neither were the dishes. It’s questionable if they even vacuumed. Now, we’re adults and we have been keeping the room clean, including doing a load of dishes every day. We’re just annoyed that whoever was assigned to our room didn’t do their job.

We also signed up for a PO Box so we had a mailing address things could be sent to. For $22 for six months, it was worth having a secure location to send our packages. Not that we’re expecting anything too valuable to come through the mail, but I don’t trust having things locked in an office.

We’re getting to know Northwest Raleigh fairly well. There isn’t too much to know around here since everything is on or off of two  major roads, but it’s nice to have an idea of where things are. Eventually we’ll start exploring the other parts of town.

Things are starting to come together, but there’s still a lot that needs to happen before I can sleep soundly at night. Every time Chuck feels sick I go into panic mode and wish we never moved. He won’t be able to apply for insurance until he gets his hands on his social security card, which is back home.

He’s still unemployed (he’s been here two weeks so I’m not about to start riding him about it), but we have until the end of August before things start getting really tight. Hopefully, he’ll be able to find something by the end of the summer.

This move is costing us financially and emotionally. I just hope we made the right decision.

Affordable Housing Fight Continues

Take a look at this article written by the Long Island Press about the fight for affordable housing.

Affordable Housing on Long Island

When you’re done, swing back here and read what I sent to the editor.

To the editor:

When I read Spencer Rumsey’s story on affordable housing, I was living in a hotel in Raleigh, N.C. while my fiancé and I wait to move in to our newly leased apartment. Our apartment in Northwest Raleigh has more than 1,000 square feet, two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a patio, and is a two-minute walk to Lake Lynn. We will be paying $745 a month.

We moved here about a week and a half ago from Suffolk County after the cost of living gave us no other choices. A newly engaged couple, we knew that a future together could not start while living with our parents. We came to North Carolina after I was able to obtain a job with one of my previous employers that has a office based in Raleigh.

The cost of living and affordable housing issue has been covered to death, but in most of the articles read, no one seems to mention how the salaries on Long Island are not on the same level as the cost of living (perhaps we’re all afraid of being labeled a socialist or communist). While living on Long Island, my fiancé and I, together, made a whopping $40,000 a year despite having advanced college degrees.

With technology companies fleeing Long Island for cheaper territory (FYI Raleigh has been named as one of the best places for a tech company to relocate), all the jobs that are left low-paying retail positions. Higher-paying jobs can be found in Manhattan, but the cost of commuting for many Eastern Long Islanders outweigh the increase in salary.

I have heard the argument from many Long Islanders that moving south would come with a severe dip in salary. In many instances, that’s not the case. But even if it were, the salaries are on the same level as the cost of living. In my case, I took a $3,000 hit when I moved south, but look at the amazing apartment I can afford with that hit.

The cost of living issue on Long Island is a multi-faceted problem. Until residents, business owners, school districts and politicians begin to address all of the issues that created and continue to exacerbate this problem, many young people will continue to flee Long Island.

Week One

I’ve been in Raleigh for a full week and I’m sort of starting to feel like I’m a resident instead of just a visitor. What I do feel is calmer despite having to deal with some pretty stressful situations.

Take my commute, for instance. My hotel is five miles from the office. It takes me 15 minutes to get there, but not because of traffic. The main road I travel, while busy, has a decent amount of lights. Also, being that I drive a red car with out of state plates, I’m not about to be booking it at 70 miles per hour.

When there is traffic, it is because of build-up at a red light and not because of congestion. As soon as that light turns red, it’s off we go. Glenwood Avenue, or route 70, where my office is located is a hybrid of route 347 and Sunrise Highway. Like 347 it has lights that are spaced out a few miles. Like Sunrise Highway, once you get past I-540 it becomes a real highway with exits.

The lack of traffic ultimately makes me feel more at ease.

What also makes life easier, are the type of people here in the South. All around, the people are much nicer. For example, yesterday I had to call a woman to tell her we needed to push back her window installation. The woman did acknowledge that she was frustrated no one told her until the morning of the original appointment (in my defense, I found out 10 minutes before I called her and I’m sure my boss found out 10 minutes before that). While slightly annoyed, this woman understood that the installers are working in 100-degree heat and are doing the best they can under some tough working conditions. The same call in New York would have resulted in some yelling, cursing and an angry request to speak to my supervisor.

Working with more understanding people makes dealing with problems a little easier. I’m bound to have a few arguments and a few crazies. One guy wouldn’t tell me his name but wanted me to pass on the message how irritated he was that no one was retuning his calls. In the grand scheme of crazy, he was nothing.

Sure, life is still hard.

We’re living in a hotel that is costing us two months rent.

We don’t have an address to attach to any paperwork.

We barely have enough money to be approved for an apartment.

Chuck doesn’t have health insurance.

Chuck doesn’t have a job.

But, for some reason, life seems better.

The Hunt

When you live in a hotel with no clear plans on when you’re leaving, your life ends up in this weird limbo.

The most obvious is not having an address. Sure, we can use the address for our hotel, but without knowing how long we’re going to be here, it’s not the best choice. Another option is having my mail sent to the office. That would be great if my job wasn’t moving to another location in a couple of weeks.

Home sweet home...hopefully.

Chuck and I went hunting for a permanent address yesterday. We had a handful of properties that we planned on checking out, but in the end, we only toured three. One was out of our price range, but one month free put it below. The other two were below our budget but when you threw in all utilities and pet rent all three became the same price.

It came down to which one we liked more. There was the woodsy place with the big bedrooms, big bathrooms and big kitchens, but was more than we could afford. The place next door was so small-town I felt like I was entering a commune for a cult. The last – off a busy street – was great, but our prospective unit lacked a fireplace and outdoor space.

We went with the woodsy place and decided to put our first month’s rent in the bank to put towards the rest of the year. It was the right fit.

I wish the application process was as easy.

The problem with applying for an apartment when you’re broke is, you’re broke. With only one income right now we have to rely on our savings to help pay the bills. The property managers seemed okay with this since they were willing to take proof our savings to supplement our meager income. It hasn’t been an easy process and despite getting a “welcome letter” I’m still worried that we’ll be without a home.

Chuck spent all day looking up tutoring services and scouring North Raleigh for Help Wanted signs in windows.

All we want is a chance and a place to come home to.

Last Day

It’s my last day at work and my desk is empty of any personal effects. I packed up most of my stuff yesterday when I finished writing all of my stories an hour before I was suppose to head home. It’s kind of surreal.

The last time I quit a job I handed my supervisor a letter and told him that it would be my last day. When he asked why I told him I didn’t want to work for a company with questionable business and moral ethics. The club members present suddenly looked interested in our conversation. It was easy to leave that job. I was cleaning toilets and scraping grass off golf shoes.

It’s harder to leave now despite the gripes I have with my job (By voicing my frustration I’m aware that it could one day bite me in the ass, but as a journalist I don’t believe in censorship, self or otherwise.).

Truth be told, there’s a lot I will miss about where I live and where I work. I won’t miss sitting in the car for an hour, but I will miss the views of the bay and the ocean while I drive on Ocean Parkway. I will miss meeting great people and telling their stories. While I have plenty of freelance work lined up, I will miss telling people that I write for a living.

I will miss my coworkers mostly. They make every day bearable. They make me laugh and offer a supportive voice when I’m feeling down. There is camaraderie in our office that I think most newsrooms lack. “Cut throat” is the last term I’d ever use to describe our office. We help each other with stories, share our sources, offer advice and a critical eye. We don’t think twice to add one’s name to a byline or give credit at the bottom of a story.

I think one of the reasons why I am hesitant to work in another newsroom is because I’m not convinced that this type of environment exists media centers outside this office. I think I just want to take the memories with me and never wish, “When I was working at the Herald, we weren’t like this.”

So I am writing a public thank you to all those that I have worked with. They all mean so much to me and words can’t describe how much I will miss them.

Holy Life Changes, Batman

I was just beginning to mentally process that I had quit my job and was taking another in a city and state 500 miles away when Chuck reached across a table at Trish’s Café in Babylon Village with a diamond ring.

I knew this moment was coming at some point. Hell, being the girl that I am every time Chuck and I did something together I was silently hoping for it. Realistically, I didn’t expect us to get engaged until after the move. It was too much for my brain to process.

I went from being 27 and feeling like a teenager to being 27 and feeling like an adult. It was a little overwhelming, but the happiness that I felt was beyond words.

Sorry, no actual engagement pictures. You'll have to deal with this one.

I knew that this was a step in our relationship that would have never come had we not decided to move down to Raleigh. You can’t get engaged and plan a wedding when you don’t have the funds necessary to move out of your parents’ house. Sure, plenty of couples live in their parents’ basement or attic apartments for a few years to save some money, but that’s not really an option for us.

Converting part of my house into an apartment would cost the equivalent of two years rent for an apartment in North Carolina and Chuck’s basement looks like it could be featured on an episode of Hoarders: Buried Alive. That’s not to mention the tax jump that would happen if our parents made these hypothetical apartments legal.

Moving wasn’t something we wanted to do, but something we had to do if we ever wanted to tie the knot. All the people that aren’t my parents or Chuck’s parents that know about our move believe it’s a great idea. Most of the older people I talk to tell me that after they retire they’re heading off the Island too.

It breaks my heart that I have to do this. Now, I have to plan a Long Island wedding from 500 miles away. Dress shopping, hall viewing and vendor meeting will all be done on rushed weekends before I hop on a flight back to Raleigh.

All this because Long Island is just too expensive.

Two Weeks Notice

It’s always awkward when you give your two weeks notice. It’s even more awkward when you go in with your boss who is also giving his two weeks notice.

I’m almost positive our boss had a slight stroke when we told him. Our departure makes 10 people in about a year to leave. After we leave, there will be three open positions, with one on the way with another reporter leaving to return to school.

My two weeks isn’t exactly so, as June 16 will be my last day at the Long Beach Herald. Two days later I will be driving down to Raleigh, N.C. where I will be working as an office manager at Four Seasons Sunrooms.

I worked at Four Seasons’ corporate office for a year during that awkward time between graduating from school and finding a job in my field. I didn’t love my job, but I had an amazing boss and amazing coworkers that made me happy. I got laid off, but remained in the good graces of my former colleagues.

The job fell in my lap.

I contacted my soon-to-be boss just to find out where the good areas of Raleigh were. Chuck and I were planning to move in August and I wanted to have an idea of where we should be looking for apartments. I jokingly told him that if they needed an assistant I could start right away. Three days later he was asking when could I start? Four days after that I was on the phone with his boss, talking salary ($2,000 less than what I’m making now, but the cost of living factor actually turns it into a raise). Two days after that I’m putting in my resignation.

While the job will be stressful, there isn’t much reason for me to work after six or on the weekends so it gives me plenty of time to freelance. With so many Heraldians now at Patch, a few said they would give me features, including my boss who is also heading to Patch.

Being an office manager isn’t my dream job and the gig will barely pay enough to pay the bills, but I can’t pass up an opportunity to work during a recession. Ultimately, I want to go back to school to teach kids how to read and write and continue being a journalist on my own time, at my own pace.

I think these days it takes a few more steps to get to where we’re going. Not too long ago, you went to college, got a degree and started a job in the field you paid to study. I’m just trying to find the balance of doing what I have to do and doing what I want.

Right now, I want to make a new life in a new place and if takes me a little longer to figure it out, I guess I’m okay with that.