Yesterday, the condo unit where I lived and worked in Hackensack, NJ, once-upon-a-time, was sold. I’ve written about this building before because it holds so many memories for me, especially now living such a very different life far from a place that is still very special to me.
I purchased that one-bedroom unit with my parents in the early 80s as an investment. It was also a place where I might live at some point. Before I would eventually reside there several years later, I lived in another unit in that building with my late sister, Manette, and her son, Zac, who has also since passed.
In the early 90s, when my tenant in the unit I owned moved out, I decided it would be nice to live alone and I finally claimed that space for myself. I would spend some time commuting to my office in mid-town Manhattan when I was employed by HBO. By age 30, however, deciding corporate life wasn’t for me, I pursued an art career.
That condo unit was a good-sized space with lots of natural light. I placed a futon just off the living room and turned the bedroom into my art studio. Those were very creative and productive years. I was exhibiting my work at art events nearly every weekend, taking commissions, and working with shops and galleries.
It was also where I lived when I met Rich. We’d been introduced through a mutual friend through the art show network. He picked me up for our first date there. We enjoyed our time in North Jersey, however, as Rich lived in a beautiful little Jersey Shore town over an hour’s drive away, we began to favor that location. With our subsequent engagement, and wedding, and because of his job, we chose to call that part of New Jersey home, and my one-bedroom unit became a haven for a number of happy tenants over the course of three decades, until this past May when a long term tenant moved out as I prepared for its sale.
Those years bring back so many happy memories. I enjoyed living in my hometown with family nearby and being so close to New York City. Back then, I’d hop in my car, often accompanied by my sister, drive through the Lincoln Tunnel, and head to wherever friends were gathering.
When my parents passed recently, I became their executrix and stand-in landlord for their properties. I was always (and still am) a good landlord. My mom taught me that, and in turn, my tenant experience had, and still is, very positive. It can be a win-win situation as I’ve been on both ends of a rental agreement.
It’s been a bittersweet process. Each of the houses my parent’s owned holds a special archived memory. Each provided a good home for all of my family members at some point, and many holidays and celebrations were hosted there. These aren’t just walls, floors and roofs; they are the keepers of Good Times, Memories and Milestones.
I didn’t think I’d have such an emotional response when this day finally came, when the last physical connection to my hometown would be gone. I wish the new tenants many happy memories of their own, and I’m content to think that my parents are proud of the way I’ve handled their legacy.
I know I’ve been fortunate to have these places, filled with people who still hold a very special place in my heart , and are still very much alive for me, but missed every day.
