From the Vault: Bi-Coastal Living
It’s been almost three years since John and I first visited Los Angeles on what was, as I chronicled at the time, our first vacation in over fifteen years. It’s been about a year
and a half since we decided to investigate the possibility of relocating to Los Angeles, and a little over a year that we’ve been commuting between urban homes in LA and New York City. We decided to commute between the two rather than engaging
full scale relocation because there were both uncertainty and practical
implications to consider. Some of these were the career and finance
considerations that anyone would expect and that demand practicality. These
were not exactly simple to figure out, but their practical quality was a
blessing because it can be responded to in kind. More challenging was the fundamental
emotional conflict of choosing one place you love over another place you love. We
love New York City, we love Los Angeles, and it wasn’t easy to choose between
the two.
As sometimes happens, the universe manifested a change to the situation that forced a decision: John got a job offer on the west coast. If it seemed that made the answer clear – go west, young men – we also had to consider that, for my work, I needed to remain based on the east coast. It turned out that, if John took the new gig, we could actually swing living in both places, but the compromise was that we’d have to live apart for long stretches at a time. So, as I wrote about in the first column of 2012, that's what we did: John lived in Los Angeles, I lived in New York City, and one or the other of us commuted cross country as often as circumstances allowed.
Among the things we were to learn during a year of living bi-coastally, none was more difficult to endure than simple loneliness as a result of being apart. John and I had been together twenty-one years when we engaged this year of living separately for long stretches of time, two plus decades during which we had been separated fewer than a dozen times total, and never longer than a week. It is a testament to our partnership that we could not only withstand the periods apart, but that the partnership grew stronger through them, even because of them. In fact, it strengthened so much that, on top of everything else, 2012 was the year that, in the single best day of my life, John and I were legally married.
One thing that one can learn through a period of separation is that even if one is lonely, one is not alone. Separation by distance and circumstance is not uncommon. People find themselves separated by time zone from their loved ones for every reason from health issues to family obligations, from job assignments to military service. On our nightly phone calls and weekly video chats, John and I always acknowledged how fortunate we were, because in our situation we were living the results of a choice that we made, that we were fortunate to be able to make. In retrospect, I think that gratitude is one of the reasons we prevailed during the difficult periods of the year of living bi-coastally.
For me, living bi-coastally presented not just challenges but opportunities, and both of these were invaluable to my growth. During times apart, I reconnected with things about New York City that I hadn’t always remembered to partake in. One spring afternoon in 2012 I went through the Whitney Biennial with a friend, capped off with an evening of sake and sushi. Her focus and wisdom reminded me of my own possibilities. One Friday evening that autumn, I was treated to an off-Broadway show with a friend, which we then rehashed over dinner at a local diner. His vitality and wisdom reminded me of my own possibilities.
I am so grateful to have these two great people in my life, as I am for my incredible family of friends in both cities: who gathered for Thanksgiving and welcome parties and welcome back parties, who gave us career advice and support, who buttressed me when my fear of flying nearly paralyzed me and then watched our apartment when I was away. Who included me in their Saturday nights despite their own demands that included everything from kids and careers to their own travels – often to their own second homes. Who watched out for John on the opposite coast. And everyone who wished us well at our wedding, and participated in the event to make sure it was everything we wanted it to be.
Professionally, living bi-coastally provided an unforeseen but invaluable benefit, for it gave me another dimension of daily living to write about in Urban Home Blog. Anyone who’s taken the people mover past the historic mid-century tilework at LAX has been greeted at the end of the ride with a wait at a baggage carousel, the welcome sight of palm trees and sunshine through the glass doors, and a frieze with a welcoming message from the mayor that refers to Los Angeles as “the creative city.” Anyone who done me the honor of reading my writing knows that, as it has been for so many, as it always will be, New York City saw the ascension of my creative life, but I have to say that Los Angeles reinvigorated that with a force that I never expected. In LA, my creative self -- which had never exactly been stagnant – reasserted itself with an intensity I hadn’t experienced since my earliest days of finding inspiration on the streets of Greenwich Village. The Village still inspired me – still inspires me – but my new inspiration is Hollywood.
There was a lot to learn about living in California, and when there’s anything to learn, there’s something to write about. I had written an early column about California cooking – Cobb Salad, still a column I am proud of for its allusions to golden era Hollywood – but there was much to investigate about this pivotal Americancuisine. I learned about the history and preparation of California cooking and then shared that with readers, from San Francisco sourdough to Chinatown stir fry, from the salad bowl to the strawberry field, from old-fashioned date nut bread to how to season and cook the steak you’re grilling on your patio. Our weekend trips to wine country yielded not just tweets and check-ins at favorite central coast locales, but columns on rose sangria, California Pinot Noirs, wine country gifts, and roast beef with Cabernet Sauvignon. Setting up a second home inspired columns on kitchen electrics and gadgets and home electronics – to date, some of the most popular content I’ve published. Setting up the second home also inspired last autumn’s annual, and always well-received (thank you), column on home decorating.
The best way to learn a new neighborhood is to get out and explore it, and as I wrote in last autumn's columns about my favorites in New York and LA, I often start with the local bookstore. One afternoon last summer, a stop by my favorite lounge in LA and an impromptu turn behind the bar resulted in one of my favorite Urban Bar columns: the Negroni. In June, what I thought would be a simple column on City Parks surprised me by being grabbed by some national services. I am proud of this accomplishment not just for myself but on behalf of the citizens, from human to herbaceous, of these vital areas for communities. And learning a new way of life by exploring the environs inspired what may be my favorite of the pieces I published last year: a column about county fairs and their connection to the wonderful, ancient celebration of Harvest Home.
I returned to Los Angeles last December so that John and I could spend Christmas together. Christmas became New Year’s and New Year’s led to my birthday. Though I was due to return east at the end of January, as readers of the previous column may have divined, I chose to stay in southern California. We still maintain an urban home in New York City, but it is clear to me that the paths of the last few years have arrived in Los Angeles. I will always love New York City and I will return to it – I still have to face the task of finalizing a country-wide move – but for now, I am reluctant to abandon the sunshine. I have blond streaks and a tan, and I don’t remember the last time I wore a suit. I am noticed at the Abbey and I am a regular at the Formosa. John and I are happy. We drink wine by fire pits and nibble mezzes on patios. We have a rock wall, and it is anchored by bromeliads and baby palm trees and overseen by a towering laurel. A tangerine grove perfumes the air coming through the bedroom window. We are still officially bi-coastal, and we will always be New Yorkers, but we have become Los Angelinos.
As sometimes happens, the universe manifested a change to the situation that forced a decision: John got a job offer on the west coast. If it seemed that made the answer clear – go west, young men – we also had to consider that, for my work, I needed to remain based on the east coast. It turned out that, if John took the new gig, we could actually swing living in both places, but the compromise was that we’d have to live apart for long stretches at a time. So, as I wrote about in the first column of 2012, that's what we did: John lived in Los Angeles, I lived in New York City, and one or the other of us commuted cross country as often as circumstances allowed.
Among the things we were to learn during a year of living bi-coastally, none was more difficult to endure than simple loneliness as a result of being apart. John and I had been together twenty-one years when we engaged this year of living separately for long stretches of time, two plus decades during which we had been separated fewer than a dozen times total, and never longer than a week. It is a testament to our partnership that we could not only withstand the periods apart, but that the partnership grew stronger through them, even because of them. In fact, it strengthened so much that, on top of everything else, 2012 was the year that, in the single best day of my life, John and I were legally married.
One thing that one can learn through a period of separation is that even if one is lonely, one is not alone. Separation by distance and circumstance is not uncommon. People find themselves separated by time zone from their loved ones for every reason from health issues to family obligations, from job assignments to military service. On our nightly phone calls and weekly video chats, John and I always acknowledged how fortunate we were, because in our situation we were living the results of a choice that we made, that we were fortunate to be able to make. In retrospect, I think that gratitude is one of the reasons we prevailed during the difficult periods of the year of living bi-coastally.
For me, living bi-coastally presented not just challenges but opportunities, and both of these were invaluable to my growth. During times apart, I reconnected with things about New York City that I hadn’t always remembered to partake in. One spring afternoon in 2012 I went through the Whitney Biennial with a friend, capped off with an evening of sake and sushi. Her focus and wisdom reminded me of my own possibilities. One Friday evening that autumn, I was treated to an off-Broadway show with a friend, which we then rehashed over dinner at a local diner. His vitality and wisdom reminded me of my own possibilities.
I am so grateful to have these two great people in my life, as I am for my incredible family of friends in both cities: who gathered for Thanksgiving and welcome parties and welcome back parties, who gave us career advice and support, who buttressed me when my fear of flying nearly paralyzed me and then watched our apartment when I was away. Who included me in their Saturday nights despite their own demands that included everything from kids and careers to their own travels – often to their own second homes. Who watched out for John on the opposite coast. And everyone who wished us well at our wedding, and participated in the event to make sure it was everything we wanted it to be.
Professionally, living bi-coastally provided an unforeseen but invaluable benefit, for it gave me another dimension of daily living to write about in Urban Home Blog. Anyone who’s taken the people mover past the historic mid-century tilework at LAX has been greeted at the end of the ride with a wait at a baggage carousel, the welcome sight of palm trees and sunshine through the glass doors, and a frieze with a welcoming message from the mayor that refers to Los Angeles as “the creative city.” Anyone who done me the honor of reading my writing knows that, as it has been for so many, as it always will be, New York City saw the ascension of my creative life, but I have to say that Los Angeles reinvigorated that with a force that I never expected. In LA, my creative self -- which had never exactly been stagnant – reasserted itself with an intensity I hadn’t experienced since my earliest days of finding inspiration on the streets of Greenwich Village. The Village still inspired me – still inspires me – but my new inspiration is Hollywood.
There was a lot to learn about living in California, and when there’s anything to learn, there’s something to write about. I had written an early column about California cooking – Cobb Salad, still a column I am proud of for its allusions to golden era Hollywood – but there was much to investigate about this pivotal Americancuisine. I learned about the history and preparation of California cooking and then shared that with readers, from San Francisco sourdough to Chinatown stir fry, from the salad bowl to the strawberry field, from old-fashioned date nut bread to how to season and cook the steak you’re grilling on your patio. Our weekend trips to wine country yielded not just tweets and check-ins at favorite central coast locales, but columns on rose sangria, California Pinot Noirs, wine country gifts, and roast beef with Cabernet Sauvignon. Setting up a second home inspired columns on kitchen electrics and gadgets and home electronics – to date, some of the most popular content I’ve published. Setting up the second home also inspired last autumn’s annual, and always well-received (thank you), column on home decorating.
The best way to learn a new neighborhood is to get out and explore it, and as I wrote in last autumn's columns about my favorites in New York and LA, I often start with the local bookstore. One afternoon last summer, a stop by my favorite lounge in LA and an impromptu turn behind the bar resulted in one of my favorite Urban Bar columns: the Negroni. In June, what I thought would be a simple column on City Parks surprised me by being grabbed by some national services. I am proud of this accomplishment not just for myself but on behalf of the citizens, from human to herbaceous, of these vital areas for communities. And learning a new way of life by exploring the environs inspired what may be my favorite of the pieces I published last year: a column about county fairs and their connection to the wonderful, ancient celebration of Harvest Home.
I returned to Los Angeles last December so that John and I could spend Christmas together. Christmas became New Year’s and New Year’s led to my birthday. Though I was due to return east at the end of January, as readers of the previous column may have divined, I chose to stay in southern California. We still maintain an urban home in New York City, but it is clear to me that the paths of the last few years have arrived in Los Angeles. I will always love New York City and I will return to it – I still have to face the task of finalizing a country-wide move – but for now, I am reluctant to abandon the sunshine. I have blond streaks and a tan, and I don’t remember the last time I wore a suit. I am noticed at the Abbey and I am a regular at the Formosa. John and I are happy. We drink wine by fire pits and nibble mezzes on patios. We have a rock wall, and it is anchored by bromeliads and baby palm trees and overseen by a towering laurel. A tangerine grove perfumes the air coming through the bedroom window. We are still officially bi-coastal, and we will always be New Yorkers, but we have become Los Angelinos.
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