The Apartment

In the hall this evening, I smelled Sunday dinner cooking behind closed doors. It took me back to my girlhood, to the Sundays when we'd go to the Bronx to have dinner at Uncle A and Aunt C's.

Apartment living was foreign to me, starting with having to find a spot on the street, continuing with a view from the terrace. I was fascinated by the incinerator. I'd go with Uncle A. to drop the trash and you could see a real fire down there. How strange that seems now.

They'd make roast chicken with carrots and potatoes, or pasta with red sauce. Aunt C's specialty was chocolate-cream pie; my mother and I loved it.

Romanticizing Apartments
Lots of the TV shows I was weaned on were based in apartments, especially "I Love Lucy," "That Girl," and "The Mary Tyler Moore Show." Those apartments were great. Who needed a house? Not Lucy and Ricky, at least not until they moved to the country with Fred and Ethel.

I also adore the portrayal of New York apartment living in Hitchcock's Rear Window.

Real Life
But in my life, I've only lived in an apartment during senior year in college--campus housing, the Henderson Apartments. We had three bedrooms, five women.

My apartment at the Jersey shore was one of five in a converted house, so that didn't feel very apartmenty. I liked the charm of H.'s apartment in Park Slope, with a big window to hang his Christmas wreath in, and a mantel with marble hearth. I didn't like the sound of mice scurrying when the lights went out.

I liked my oldest brother's apartment on Mulberry Street, where we spent many a Christmas. The intercom, the elevator, the view of the walled churchyard across the street. I loved Sis's on East 82nd Street between Second and Third--I spent many a night there and went for many a party. I could still describe it perfectly to you, from the mailboxes to the fire escape.

My Irish grandparents lived in a "garden apartment" in Dumont for years....I could also draw that floor plan for you at a moment's notice. See the bedroom and kitchen windows looking out over Sunnyside Avenue? See that old washboard built into the sink? See the stairs I'd walk up, and my grandfather leaning over the banister to say hello in his Irish brogue?

My Italian grandma had an apartment in the Bronx. I remember visiting her neighbor, Mrs. Bouto. I remember my family packing up my grandma's things from her bedroom after she died. I don't really remember much else, because I was younger.

Apartment Compartments
Our friends Celia and Greg live in a really nice apartment in NYC, and I love to visit them. H.'s old friend Dan always has a cool apartment. My brother Will and Kelly live in an apartment they've decorated with pretty colors and nice decor.

I think what I like best about living like this is a place for everything and everything in its place. You can't fill it up to the roof with belongings and junk. The living is pared-down and streamlined, and that makes everyone calmer.

At least until tomorrow, when we really have to dive into packing up the possessions in our home.