A version of this column was originally published in 2008, in the first issue of C.O.D, an  “alternative” local newspaper.  I will be adding more essays soon.
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Welcome Back Codder

It was the late 90’s and I was at work at the House of Blues in Cambridge, engaged in small talk with a high-school acquaintance when I told her I was moving back to the Cape. Her horrified reaction said enough, but she went further and verbally offered her sympathies. For many people, I was beginning to understand, moving back to the town in which you grew up was an unfortunate state of affairs. In many respects, however, I was quite ready to move out of the city. No longer did I have to spend freezing winter days waiting for the bus, drive blocks endlessly just looking for parking, or stare out my exorbitantly priced basement apartment windows at the cemented world above.

Living in the Allston/Brighton area, you could  enjoy the best parts of city life. My boyfriend and I often popped down a few blocks to catch bands at the Paradise and when friends came to town we checked out art exhibits. In general, we simply basked in the overall diversity in language and color of people from all over the world. Our neighborhood was peppered with Brazilian flags, a Russian grocery shop, an Asian Vegan restaurant. It’d be a lie to say that moving back to the Cape wasn’t a re-adjustment.

The fact that my fiancé and I moved to the Cape in January compounded our culture shock. Our first Monday night, we went to grab some pizza and headed to first one, then another, then another of our favorite shops only to find that they were all closed. Another night, we headed out for beers at a bar downtown. The floor was dirt, the wood stove was crackling and the few patrons were enjoying a pot-luck before they closed for the season. Homegrown fresh eggs were being sold from behind the bar, several dogs were running free and a man was serving himself then his dog, himself then his dog, all from the same spoon. Though our local bar in the city was often the un-trendy Silhouette, this scene made us feel like we had moved to the edges of the earth. It was a firm welcome back handshake to the off-season on Cape Cod.

These days we occasionally roadtrip down to DC, and I commute once a week to Boston. I am always amazed at the amount of young people I encounter, enjoying something I once knew called “nightlife.” It’s then that I begin to pine for a coffee shop open past 7 p.m. or long to hear international accents. When I am in “the city,” I grab the free papers to peruse upcoming live music or art events. At the same time, when I drive I-95, I can’t help but feel relieved that I do not live in the congested city, suburban sprawl, near stretches of factories or between strip malls. I don’t miss waiting in lines wherever I go.

And now, whenever I return from somewhere “off-Cape” and smell anew the fresh ocean air, I can’t imagine having anywhere else for a home base. Arriving at the Falmouth bus depot after a day in the city and making the short drive down to Quissett to catch a softball game in a field with a gorgeous view of Vineyard Sound, well- you really can’t beat that. I walk my dog in the cranberry bogs across the street from the house we built with the help of friends and family, and I see bunnies, coyotes, foxes, red-tailed hawks, swans, ducks or turkey vultures. I feel fortunate to be able to live in such a beautiful place. I enjoy the fact that the landfill seems to be the one of the main social meeting places, and that I run into people I know just about any place I go.  This isn’t unusual in cities, but it’s a lot more common in a small town.  Sure, there’s a statistical abundance of “seniors” but that doesn’t mean there aren’t an equal number of interesting, creative, talented, accomplished characters around (including the seniors!).

When I am at my local artists group, walking the beach or local woods, enjoying a pint at my local bar or coffee at my local coffeeshop, I sometimes think back to the horrified look on the face of my acquaintance. I smile to myself because I am convinced this person is missing out. Perhaps it’s elitist to think that living on the Cape is so special. It’s certainly not perfect, but it does seem to be perfect for me.

A version of this column was originally published in 2008, in the second issue of C.O.D, an  “alternative” local newspaper.
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No Kidding!

After 7 years of marriage, most people have stopped asking when we are going to have children.  But, a friend’s recent vasectomy and the fact that we’ve met a lot of new people lately has brought the topic back with a vengeance! The question has now morphed into why we don’t have/want children.

Interestingly, it’s a question in the negative which means I have some defending to do, sort of like trying to prove I didn’t steal the cookie from the cookie jar.

Explicitly addressing that phrasing is the “child-free” movement, though that doesn’t sit perfectly well with me, either. Though the term strives to make a positive statement, it is still a definition based on the lack of something. While it aims for the upbeat, it is based on a standard that having children is the norm, and the phrase itself, by its inclusion of the word child, only underscores an “alternative” status. I don’t feel I’ve made a radical choice, this is simply who I am. Not to mention, it carries an eerie echo of advertising slogans: fat-free! Zero emissions!

Some of the “child-free” websites can be useful resources however, and it is comforting to read that I am not alone. Other women also use my favorite example. Since there is no arguing with all the wonderful reasons (I’ve heard them all) that it’s great to have kids, I offer up what I call the food analogy: Do you want chicken or pizza for dinner? Maybe you had veggies all week and you want some meat, so you go for the chicken. Or maybe you are craving the salty, cheesy goodness that is pizza.

Now, most people will frown upon comparing kids to dinner but it’s the most accurate explanation I’ve come up with. The thing is, all the descriptions and why you want it are intellectual constructs for something you just feel. When it comes down to it, you just feel like having pizza (you do, don’t you!). If the question really were about chicken or pizza a simple “I didn’t feel like it” would suffice. Everyone has to decide on dinner and dinner doesn’t strike a deep biological and emotional chord.

I’ve come to the conclusion that what makes kids different is that it is a nearly universal desire to want children. In the U.S., it is the norm, and most people apparently can’t wrap their brains around a notion other than their own. Those who don’t have kids have many valid reasons, but the simple truth for me is merely that I just never wanted them. But in my mind, this topic doesn’t have the negative connotation of “not” wanting something that I am forced to express when challenged by others to explain.

Children have been not been bested by other things from the top of my list, neither are there things that I feel kids would deprive me of. I feel the world is a progressive enough place that we can create our own happy realities with or without kids. People who know me know that I love kids, nor am I selfish (an idea that has only recently come to my attention in this regard) so I don’t feel that I am perceived as a bitchy post-feminist female. I have however, become keenly aware that, especially as a woman, I am, deep-down, at least considered rather odd by most people.

I know this because the only thing I’ve heard more than the initial question of, “Why?” is that I will change my mind, could change my mind, am still young enough to change my mind, and shouldn’t be so rigid as to not change my mind. What people who say these things do not understand is that this is not a “decision” I have made, it is just how I am. There are a few people who accept that not everyone is the same and that this is completely natural. I just wonder why everyone else isn’t lobbying harder for me to eat more pizza.