On Leaving

(Written early Sunday morning, posted Monday at work...)

I have this theory about New Yorkers. Every month and a half or so, we feel this overwhelming urge to leave. No real reason, no specific needs, just an incredibly persuasive, possibly Canadian voice whispering, “I need to get out of the city… I need to get out of the city.”

So I did. I took off work at the lab on Friday to meet my folks upstate; after years of describing my boyhood neighborhood in Buffalo as being “in or near the ghetto,” they’re looking to buy a second property. Weird. (Although, I swear there are shootings on my street. Well, a few blocks up. Um… why am I bragging about this?) I’m writing this from a single bedroom cottage in Austerlitz, New York, nursing a single malt McClelland, and watching Arrested Development circa season two. Dad’s upset because the Yanks lost in the 13th, Mom’s upset because she lost at Scrabble, and I’m trying not to gloat because I won and so did the Twins. Life… is… good. (To be fair, Mom had a four game winning streak going.)

Here’s a quick recap of the weekend. The first night in town, we stopped in for dinner at a Chatham, NY standby, the Blue Plate. Did you know you can put bacon on top of meatloaf? You can and it is awesome. Also, Mom’s “appetizer” of calamari was gigantic. (Hah. Like a giant squid. Gee, this scotch is good.) Then, we caught a summerstock performance of The Pajama Game at the Mac-Haydn Playhouse. The performance was slightly macabre, but in an enjoyable way. The dude playing Sid was like Craig Kilborn’s sleazy, brunette brother, the chorus was full of girls last seen as Patty Simcox in their senior year production of Grease, and the most convincing performance I saw all night was this Chloe Sevigny lookalike in the back row who literally swooned, hand on heart, during “There Once Was a Man.” A one person standing ovation is a baffling spectacle.

And… I no longer sound straight. Oh, Sammy Sosa hit his 600th homerun and the media response was surprisingly laudatory, despite allegations of steroid use. Meanwhile, fans of baseball and ethics alike shouted a collective expletive on Friday as Barry Bonds hit number 749. That puts him at seven round-trippers away from breaking Hank Aaron’s all-time homerun record. And today, Alex Rodriguez hit his 28th of the year, putting him at 492 on his career. A-Rod is 32 and if he plays another ten seasons and hits an average of 30 homeruns a year—entirely possible given contemporary training regimens—could surpass 800 homeruns. So, when you add it all up, what do you get? Apparently, a guy can cheat, but as long as he doesn’t break any records, he can be a comeback kid. Also, according to ESPN’s Skip Bayless, A-Rod’s alleged marital infidelity is evidence enough to call his baseball fidelity into question as well. Luckily for him, he’s only at the “Doesn’t he look bigger than he was when he was a rookie?” stage of suspicion, while Bonds has been in “I MEAN, COME ON—LOOK AT HIM” territory for years now. As for Bonds, here’s the stat of the weekend… RBIs from homeruns: 1. RBIs from being walked with the bases loaded: 2.

Graight, I sound straight again. Oh, we stopped by Pittsfield to see Herman Mellville’s house, too. Mom and Dad kind of hijacked the guided tour… the old docent dude was going on about Melville and Hawthorne being more than friends… pretty standard stuff. Standing at the desk where Moby-Dick was written was pretty humbling, though. From the upper room, there’s this terrific view of Mt. Greylock, which, if it’s winter and you’re Melville, apparently looks just like the white whale. It’s been a few years since I’ve reread it and I’m feeling due, if only for that incredible chapter on cetology. (I mean, it’s all incredible, but seriously… right in the middle, there’s like, twenty pages about whale biology. It’s fucking fascinating.)

Well… my scotch is done, my parents are asleep, and Baseball Tonight is on. Jesus… Karl Ravech just called Richie Sexson “Big Sexsie” and said of his two-run performance against the Reds that he was, “bringing sexy back.” NYC, I’ll be back by noon. In time for Gay Day and the rubber game of A-Rod v. Bonds. Getting away was wonderful–but the best thing about leaving New York is realizing why you can’t live without it.