So here’s the thing. When I started this occasional series of rants back in 2002 (!), the title was a play on “My So-Called Life” and a statement of life in a near-the-city suburb, not quite urban, not quite suburban. Other than a pleasant neighborhood close to a little lake, it was life in an unwalkable world, a land without sidewalks. We were just blocks from the school, but our kids had to get on buses. Milk, groceries, the post office, they all required getting into a car. Most of our social life took place across the river, or up it, in Albany or Troy.
But that’s changing, and soon. We’re moving to a town that is essentially Bedford Falls, moving from a corner lot colonial with a two-car garage to a downtown rowhouse a block from the main street. We’ll be a short walk from the library, the park, the post office. We’ll be three minutes’ walk from the little historic movie house and a slew of sidewalk cafés. Minutes from the bike path. And not so far from a major city that can’t seem to get enough of its pretzels.
Decidedly, utterly urban. Perhaps even super-urban. My Super-Urban Life?