YES!

 I didn’t care who saw me. Today I stood on Myrtle Avenue, threw my fists in the air, shouted, “YES!” and did a little happy dance, all by myself. 

You may know how it feels when you accomplish something you never thought you could ever do, and it took everything you had, but you couldn’t quit because the only way around it was through it. It would have been so easy to give up, but you pressed on and were victorious. It’s in that moment that you know life is good and you’re damn good! YES!

When I was a kid, this seemed to be a normal part of my life. It mostly happened when I was facing something new, and I didn’t think I could do it, like learning to skateboard or ride a bike, when I tied my own shoes or climbed to the tippy top of a tree. I knew in those moments that I could “do anything if I put my mind to it.” (Was anyone else raised to believe this total poppycock about themselves?) 

Such moments of triumph have been rare for me as an adult. It happened when I defended my dissertation, and I left the room while my committee conferred before calling me back and announcing, “Congratulations, Doctor Kraft.” How did I survive running that never-ending gauntlet? How did I persevere when every step of the way I was ready to throw in the towel? Because I was amazing, that’s how! YES! 

This week I was determined to take care of all my DMV stuff. First, I needed to get a NY driver’s license. I was advised to go to Long Island for this, which is what I did. The whole way there I kept having flashbacks of the time I waited for hours at the DMV in North Carolina only to be told I didn’t have the correct paperwork. This time I brought a stack of papers with me. I was prepared for any possibility. Of course, then I had too many papers to sort through when the time came, but the woman who helped me was a gem. Still, the drive was long and included a number of scary moments and jams along the way. It took up most of my day. 

I spent the balance of the day on the phone getting New York car insurance, which became effective today. So, I was determined that this is the day when I would have NY plates on my car. 

This time I opted to stay in the city, and I can only say that for this out-of-stater, it was the most harrowing experience I’ve had behind the wheel of a car since I drove down a mountain alone at night during a blizzard. (Am I really going to get used to this?) I left at 9:30 am for a 10:15 appointment. My phone told me it took 25 minutes to get there. I arrived at 11:00. (90 minutes to drive 8 miles. Isn’t that less than 10 mph?) And my GPS was worthless. I realized this while I was sitting in a complete gridlock. Suddenly my phone was taking me to a highway, not an address, the Van Wyck Expressway, which I was on at the time—multiple lanes going each way and feeder roads beside them… all at a complete standstill. No matter what I did, my GPS wasn’t going to get me there. I actually had to stop and ask for directions. (Can’t remember the last time I’ve resorted to that. A tip of the hat to the parking lot attendant at the New York Times who helped me.) I still don’t know how I got there. Well, after waiting for an hour, they finally called my number and I had all the necessary paperwork, so I left with plates in hand. 

Next, I found a garage in the neighborhood to do my inspection. This is when the story turns from terrible to terrific for me. I love the garage owner and have decided this is the one I’ll be going to in the future.  After leaving the car off, I walked home and made a stop at a place that’s already become a favorite for me. Every day they make homemade honey ginger tea that tingles my tongue in the best possible way. About an hour later, when I returned for my car, it had NY plates and the inspection sticker in my window. 

The next step was mailing my old plates back to Maryland. It turns out the Glendale post office was just around the corner, so my garage guy said I could leave my car parked at his place while I walked the plates over. This was the first time for me at this little post office. I prepared myself to wait in yet another line and discovered I was the only customer in there! I mailed the plates, made my exit, and that’s where it happened. I stepped onto the sidewalk, threw my hands in the air and… “YES!” I am becoming a bad-ass New Yorker.

Update on my new life

I’ve been in my new home for just about a month now, working my way through many layers of adjustment. After 25 years of living solo, suddenly I’m living with four other people. School started after Labor Day and we’re figuring out a routine for getting the boys to and from school, sharing meals a few times a week, and throwing in an occasional adventure.

I expected that adapting to life in NY would be challenging, and it is certainly that. People who have spent their entire life in the City have no idea just how different things are here. In many respects, it feels like I’m living in a different country. For one thing, in Queens, I never know if the person I meet on the street speaks English. I’m also learning whole new ways of dealing with trash, thinking through how much space I have in my home before I buy items at the grocery, and pretty much obsessing over parking spaces and the hours when they’re available. (I’ve seen more than one car towed in my neighborhood.)

Driving is always an adventure. Dodging cars double and triple parked, people skateboarding in the street, remembering not to turn right on red, and quickly turning left on a green light before the oncoming traffic gets started—all of this is new to me. Overall, New York drivers seem to be cooperative and understand the give-and-take of navigating the narrow, car-lined streets. They are especially helpful when they immediately alert  me at the exact moment a traffic light changes from red to green, in the off chance I might be driving while blind. Fortunately, I can get to a lot of stuff on foot. Just a couple of blocks and I find pert near everything I need plus lots of cool places to explore. 

There were so many times when I had looked forward to retirement and wondered if I’d ever even want to step inside a church again. I. Was. Done. But after taking a couple months off from anything having to do with Church, settling into life in New York, I found myself yearning for the community I have experienced through the Church. The past couple of weeks I’ve preached at a church not far from where I live. Every congregation has its own personality, and I’m getting to know theirs. They are warm and gracious to this foreigner. Occasionally, I have trouble understanding them, as they’re all died-in-the-wool New Yorkers and they speak the part. But they also struggle to decipher my Buckeye accent, and it’s all received in good humor. This week I had the occasion to meet some colleagues at a meeting with the bishop. They were so welcoming and kind that it was easy for me to feel a part of my new synod. I didn’t realize how much I needed that sense of connection to the church. I'm surprised, but it's good to know.

I wake up every morning to the sound of feet running across the floor above me. My son-in-law wonders if they should add some insulation so it’s not so loud for me. Maybe someday, but not yet. It’s still a sound that fills me with gratitude. Along with hearing all about how their day in school was, and watching them play at the park, and those times when they appear in my space just to say “Hi, Nana”, and give me a hug. Often over the past few years, especially during the pandemic, I have longed to be with them so much that I feared it would never really happen. Now I sometimes wonder if I’m just dreaming it. And then I hear the feet running across the floor above me, and I smile.

I think I'm going to survive this move, but I say this with a bit of reservation. Next week I expect to encounter my biggest challenge so far... the DMV. Please pray for me.