Daily Archives: March 23, 2009

I really like where we live, but the New York Metro area is a killer for my contentment.

I’m generally a pretty content person. I don’t say this from pride or false humility; I just know me. While living in Bosnia, I was perfectly happy to have no running water and a bedroom with no windows, but dozens of enormous spiders. I didn’t care that I bathed only twice a week or that we swam in the same river that graciously received our sewage. While living in the ghetto of Philadelphia, I never once complained about needing bars on our windows or having to take the train to school. I didn’t even mind (terribly) the smell of urine in the subway. That’s just the way it was, and I was okay with that.

The difference between then and now is the semblance of equality. I didn’t mind those situations because everyone around me was generally in the same boat. No one had excessively different circumstances than anyone else. Yes, I knew that all the world did not live this way; I saw long-distance friends living drastically “better” lives, but those I interacted with on a daily basis all shared the same basic standard of living. I made a cognitive choice to live with less knowing that’s where I wanted to be and that was what was expected and normal for that place.

I can’t say the same for here. It is extremely expensive to live here and the means of those in this area vary enormously.

Now, before I go any further, let me squelch the whole cost of living argument some of you already have stuck in your throats. I’ve lived on the East Coast for fifteen years. I lived in the Midwest for seventeen years. (Most of my family still lives there.) I have also lived in Europe. Whenever I start talking about the expense of living in this area, people who don’t live here immediately pummel me with their convictions that, yes, it is more expensive, but salaries are equally higher because of cost of living allowances. This is not true. Don’t believe me? Check this out.

A physical therapist in New York makes approximately the same as a physical therapist in Pennsylvania or Kentucky. (I know because I have a number of friends who are physical therapists, all living in different states but all bringing home similar paychecks.) Now consider this: a 4-bedroom, 2 1/2 bath farm house on 5 1/2 acres in Indiana currently lists at $135K. The house immediately behind us — a 2-bedroom, 1 bath Cape Cod style home on 1/10 of an acre — just sold for $225K. You can get more than FIFTY TIMES the land for $90K less! And a house that’s twice as big plus the barn and stables and everything else you need to run a ranch. The minuscule pay raise cannot compensate. Pay is simply disproportionate to the higher cost of living.

But not everyone works as a physical therapist. Some jobs indeed pay more here than in other places. You all watch the news. You know the salaries of top executives, traders, bankers and the like. As I take our kids around town — to the park, ballet, the doctor, wherever — I hear other moms talk about their housekeepers, their gardeners, their remodeling projects, their weekly ski trips and more. ”Can you believe they listed their house for one-point-three? I expected them to get at least two million for it.”  “We’re hiring a decorator for the summer house again. We’ve had the same decor for almost three years!” “I don’t know if we’ll keep Savannah in ballet. She’s excelling at tennis and gymnastics; I really want her to take sailing lessons this year, too.” “Do you like my new handbag? It was only $400! I would have bought two, but they only had it in this color.”

I’m not jealous. It’s not about that. Really. I don’t want my kids run ragged from this to that or raised by a nanny and tutors. I love my life! I like our house! I would be terrified (and guilt-ridden) to walk around with a handbag that cost more than thirty bucks. That’s just not me, and it’s not what I want for my family.

It’s just difficult not to compare.

After a morning of being ignored by the snooty rich moms, I spend the afternoon browsing real estate listings online, dreaming about what life would be like if I lived in a place like that or had the money for someone else to clean my house and do my laundry. Then I wander over to the job listings to explore the possibilities of living elsewhere. After an hour or so of my futile scheming, God reminds me that He has us here for a reason. I’m not always sure what that reason is, but He knows. And He’s in charge.