Soon after I moved to New York City at the end of 1997, it became clear I wanted to remain here long term.

The friends who preceded me here – and encouraged me to take a shot at living in the big city – are all gone now. They cited the cost of living and the state of the public school system as factors for leaving.

For me, the monthly rent loomed as the only threat to me staying. What saved me up until now was a lucky break with the studio apartment I’ve been at in Jackson Heights, Queens for the last sixteen years. It was listed in the Times real estate section back in late 2002. I responded to the ad, looked at the place and paid the guy repping the apartment’s owner first and last month’s rent, security deposit, a big broker’s fee and the cost of a credit check.

I lived on the first floor of a six-story co-op building and loved the neighborhood. My commute to LaGuardia was ridiculously easy – and it became even more so a few years ago when the MTA initiated express bus service to the airport from Jackson Heights via the Q70.

My rent was $850 in 2003. It has gradually climbed to what I’m paying now: $1350 a month. My landlord has been fair. I’ve never personally met her. I just send the check to her PO box. Only twice in sixteen years did I call her seeking help. Once for bed bugs and once for a protracted months-long cooking gas outage. On both occasions, I got little more than lip service and worked through the problems on my own. But on balance, I never got sour about my living situation because I loved the apartment so much. It was perfect – or nearly so.

The wood floors, shower head, kitchen appliances and radiator all worked to perfection. I was a ten-minute walk to the subway station which would whisk me into midtown in another ten minutes.

I was so close to the Mets ballpark, I could get home in time after the game to listen to the post-game wrap-up.

It’s only in the last two or three years that I began getting concerned that I wouldn’t be able to stay forever. There was an obvious and dramatic influx of people with money. In my building. In my immediate neighborhood. At my train stop.

This invasion was really noticeable on my Sunday morning visits to the nearby greenmarket. People were openly discussing co-op unit sales figures and parading their rare breed dogs and fancy strollers while clogging the market’s pathways.

In my building, brand new residents didn’t wait to flex their muscle. They sought to rally pressure on local elected leaders to stop airplane noise (good luck with that). And they moved formally via board action with backing from building management to isolate and embarass longtime Russian occupants who smoke cigarettes in the outdoor common spaces.

My lease was year-to-year with no protection from either ouster or significant rent increases. While my landlord offered renewal each autumn with tolerable, incremental hikes, I didn’t have the slightest read on her long-term intentions. Her letterhead indicates she’s in the real estate business. About six or seven years ago, she intervened on my behalf legally to stave off an effort by my building’s co-op board to get rid of sub-tenants – or residents who did not own their units. Eventually, the composition of that board changed such that the building adopted a more tolerant position toward sub-tenants.

The real fear I had came while seeing neighbohood real estate listings with rent and sales numbers for units similar to those of my size and quality. Since there was no meaningful bond with the owner of my apartment, why would she continue settling for substantially less than what the market would bear?

Concurrent with my feeling of insecurity was a progressive push by the city’s current mayor to force builders to set aside a substantial portion of new development projects for “affordable housing.” It is now a condition of most new construction in the city to earmark a percentage of units at below market rents to people in qualifying income brackets.

Via a web-based lottery system, I put my name in the hat for nearly every opportunity in all of the city’s boroughs except Staten Island. A different mail-in effort landed me on the waiting list for a building at 110th and Amsterdam. Unfortunately, for reasons unknown to me, my position on that list stalled hopelessly in recent years.

I started getting nibbles late in Bill deBlasio’s first term via the Housing Connect site. There was a fifth-floor walkup in Harlem that I got cold feet on because of the stairs. And then a brand new building on the ocean in Rockaway (across the street from Rippers). I nearly acted on the Rockaway chance but then did a few practice commutes and decided I couldn’t handle the really long bus ride to work every day.

Last year, I had a fitful interaction off an invite to advance in the process for an apartment in a new high-rise in downtown Jamaica (Queens), but a series of blunders by the management company handling that tenant search ultimately left my application in limbo. That experience – along with another badly-hosted interview for a building on the west side of Manhattan left me cold on the whole process. I started to feel like the game was rigged. I had decided about midway through last year that my fallback position was readiness for a move to market-rate spots in further-flung neighborhoods with perhaps lesser quality living arrangements. Amazon’s announcement late last year sent further shivers through the renters’ psyche – especially in Jackson Heights which has become front and center as an emerging neighborhood after years of what felt like a best kept secret.

In late October of last year, I had another interview – this time for a new building on the lower east side of Manhattan. The woman who conducted the interview was warm and encouraging about my chances. She noted my longevity at the airline and offered suggestions about how best to present information on certain parts of the application.

A couple months went by and the same friendly woman from the interview called seeking supplementary documentation. My application was now in the hands of city government which makes final inquiries and approvals on tenant selection. During the period from just before Christmas until around New Year’s Day, there were further questions about my finances. And then out of the blue – on the 4th of January – a woman from the real estate management company offered me an apartment. I would be allowed to see it on January 7th but would have to decide on the spot whether to take it – or leave it. If I took it, I’d need bank checks for first month’s rent, a month security and one for $25 for the carbon monoxide detector.

All of a sudden, I had four days to decide whether to make a move with significant implications on all life’s fronts.

My income put me in two categories of contention for a studio apartment and the one I was offered was in the much higher cost tier. The rent is $1967 a month! My annual income is on the flat bottom to qualify. More ideally, I would have been offered the same apartment sitting near the top of a lower income tier but that didn’t happen.

So, I looked at the apartment on that Tuesday. It’s small but new and has a view that will never get old. I said “YES,” signed a lease effective immediately and started sleeping here on the 22nd of January.

I handed off the keys of my cleaned-out old apartment in Jackson Heights on the Tuesday after the Super Bowl. The landlord was totally cool about the hasty exit. She graciously accepted my explanation for leaving and my offer to forfeit a good chunk of change on the way out the door.

With little time between the job and all the detail work associated with the move, the last six weeks or so have been a blur.

The new rent number is an imposing one for sure but the key to this decision is that the rent is “stablized,” which provides government-imposed protection on the level of future increases.

Set aside the fact that I’m now living on the lower east side of Manhattan. The way rents are going all across the city means the market will make my rent look more and more “affordable” as time goes by.

$1967 is a lot now. And it will be a lot in five years for an hourly airport worker. But at least there’s some form of a harness on it which I didn’t have at the market rate apartment.

I only got the internet hooked up last week and have started to sleep a little better now that I’m settling in.

I’ve always wanted to live in Manhattan and now I’m here. I’m very excited about learning and living and seeing and experiencing the old streets and businesses and people who comprise the Lower East Side.

I can’t stop looking out my window.

Much more to come on this new chapter…

There’s no recency here but the end of the calendar year prompts a little reflection and so I’ll start by mentioning a few noteworthy music or sports venues I visited for the first time in the latter part of 2018.

1 I won’t say the name of this off-the-books music venue to keep it outside the purview of search engines but it’s in Bed-Stuy and it rhymes with love. I saw Bethlehem Steel play there three weeks ago on a Sunday night. It’s a short walk from the Kosciuszko J train stop on a quiet street off Broadway. You wouldn’t know it’s a music venue looking at it from the outside, but the first of four bands had gone on when I arrived so I just followed the vibration. Up a steep stairwell with a loose handrail, the main room holds no more than 75 people. It was a little smoky. I didn’t venture into the adjoining rooms and corridors people were moving in and out of but it appeared that tall boys and booze were being sold in a spot behind the stage. The sound was excellent. This venue’s survival up against what must be all sorts of obstacles is very inspiring and the bands who play here deserve credit for keeping the ever-changing but still dynamic DIY scene alive in a city that seems to be driving out artists faster than we can bring them in.

2 On a December visit to Kansas City to see Michelle, I saw the stunningly gorgeous and relatively new Kauffman Center (opened in 2011). Helzberg Hall (pictured above) is the facility’s crown jewel. We attended an evening performance of the KC Symphony’s annual Christmas Festival. The narrow venue somehow manages to hold up to 1600 because of the depth and steepness of the seating setup. The staff is welcoming and the sound is superb. The night before, I saw the UMKC men’s hoop team tip-off against non-conference foe McNeese State at venerable Municipal Auditorium. The beautiful, tightly-configured upward trajectory of the seating reminds me a bit of Alumni Hall in Chicago but Municipal is a bit larger – with about 7500 seats. There were only a couple hundred fans on hand for the game I attended but I imagined what it must have been like full when the place hosted nine final fours between 1940 and 1964. Old architectural charm has survived recent renovation touch-ups including bathroom fixtures from a distant past. The building is smack in the heart of downtown and you hope it can remain viable given what seems to be a shortage of meaningful, revenue-producing tenants. It’s clear the city of Kansas City is spending money to keep the place in good shape. It’s a throwback and it was a thrill to see. One aside: UMKC plays in the Western Athletic Conference which has nine member schools playing men’s hoops. It’s an odd and disparate collection of schools from far away spots like Bakersfield CA, Brownsville TX, Greeley CO and Las Cruces, NM. The travel budget must be huge and the logistics brutal for a student athlete based in KC but the school is probably seeing that automatic Big Dance bid light up in the distance.

3 Long a fan of major championship golf and the Ryder Cup competition, I saw day one of the 2018 Ryder Cup at Le Golf National in Guyancourt, France on the last Friday of September. The Americans took three of four points in the morning four-ball session. I sat on a hill with a cup of coffee overlooking the eighth hole as Euro fans sang and clapped for the home team. Every part of the fan experience: the transportation, the concessions, the bathrooms, the signage, the hospitality were nailed successfully by the French hosts. The course had what felt like an unforgiving Scottish setup. The sun came out in the afternoon. I switched to red wine. Voices around me were speaking German, French, Swedish and thick-as-could-be Irish and Scottish accented English. The Euros swept the afternoon foursomes to break the American backs. The history books will forever recall this Euro rout with Tommy Fleetwood front and center – and the whining of Phil and Patrick Reed as exhibit A on why the Ryder Cup is not won by teams stacked with the most individual talent. It’s a team competition that’s typically won by a squad of players who like each other and have fun playing with a partner.

4 Five consecutive Autumn visits to Toulouse have included stops at many of the city’s sports and music venues. I added a new one in 2018 and really enjoyed it. L’usine a Musique is about 20 minutes northwest of city center on the Salvador Dali-bound L1 bus. A Tuesday night Goon Sax show staged by the arts collective La Chatte a la Voisine drew a big crowd with lots of familiar faces. The bar was really nice and the Picon biere went down great. The band was a little cranky but played a full set showcasing their 2018 release We’re Not Talking. La Chatte’s biggest challenge after settling with an act to stop in Toulouse is finding a cool venue that doesn’t break the bank. L’usine’s distance from downtown did not scare off visitors on this night – so maybe we’ll see the place become more prominent going forward.

5 There was a time about 20 years ago when my Dad and I were on a mission to see all the major league ballparks but then they started building new ones quicker than we could get to them. We’re not chasing as hard any more but we did check a nice one off the list in August. On a two night stay, we caught two games at Target Field in downtown Minneapolis. We got the cheapest available tickets and snuck into box seats for both contests. The outfield facade quirks and open concourse are great. So is the view of downtown Minnie at night. The organization uses the vast outdoor plaza spaces to honor its history to great effect. My Dad was able to see a remembrance photo of the late Twins player, manager and broadcaster Frank Quilici who he knew as a young man. We also got a chance to see Joe Mauer and that sweet swing of his one last time.

-Favorite records of 2018? The new ones from Human People, Justin Sullivan’s Night Shop and Remember Sports. The Durham, England band Martha put out a single late in the year offering great hope their next LP will be fantastic. And of course we wait on the edge of the seat for new material from Kevin Morby and maybe but perhaps not likely Jeremy and Woods? The aforementioned Bethlehem Steel has been playing new songs at shows which signal a new full length. And I hope along with the French rock and rollers that Justin tours in support of In the Break beyond one-man-band select stops in an opening slot like the endeavor he undertook just after the record came out.

-New York State’s scaled-down version of a high school basketball tournament feels like an afterthought given the unique complexities of the public/parochial split – and the complete NYC / upstate postseason disconnect but at least the  New York State Federation of Secondary School Athletic Associations (NYSFSSAA) are taking a stab at breathing some new life into it. The Federation’s Executive Committee announced last week that it will move the tournament to Rose Hill Gym in the Bronx starting the last weekend in March of 2020. The three-day tourney has been staged in the small town of Glens Falls, NY (about 200 miles north) for all but a few of the last thirty years. Most of the top medium to big high school programs are in NYC and on Long Island . It made for an untenable road trip for many supporters of the city schools and lots of empty seats in Glens Falls. It’s about time this tournament ended up in the five boroughs and what better venue than Rose Hill? With a capacity of 3200 and a feeling of intimacy and intensity unrivalled except for perhaps a packed Carnesecca – it is a great decision to locate the state’s so-called “finals” at a historic venue in New York City. Now, if only the Federation could unify the associations on the matter of playing a true statewide hoops championship similar to the formats in most midwestern states. Fans in this state need a single-elimination tournament (school size based) with a huge bracket and broad participation that ends with a champion which defeated teams other than the ones they played the duration of the regular season. The PSAL for example would have to compress or eliminate its lengthy separate borough and city-wide playoff formats. In return, they’d meet public and Catholic schools on the Island and in the suburbs north of the city. Those matchups would be rich in drama. For now, I view the three-year move to Fordham a good start in spicing up a tournament that for many years nobody here in the city cared about much.

-On September 17, I hit 500 miles for my career on the blue bike. My routine is the same pretty much every time. Grab a bike outside Stuyvesant High School. Ride it up to Riverside Park in the 80’s. Get on a crosstown bus at 86th Street. Watch the city pass me by until I get out at Second Avenue. Say hello to the Lou Reed mural before getting on a downtown Q to a Queens-bound F. I enjoy every second of this regimen on the off day and hope I can keep doing it for a long time.

-Favorite food moment of 2018: Discovery of the Polenta Sourdough loaf made by She Wolf Bakery. Nothing like it warmed with a little butter and a cup of strong coffee.

Happy New Year.