Hello from NYC

...and nutty stuff I found while moving

Hi Everyone,

This isn’t so much a formal piece as it is a little note to say hello and let you know that we’ve arrived in NYC.

As I will expound upon in next week’s post, I relocated myself a lot in the past. But in comparison to this one, those geographic changes were like throwing my socks and CD’s into a duffel bag and hopping a Southwest flight, thus moving myself about the country. This year, we have bought/sold three residential properties, earned our kids a place at two different, very good schools, sold or gave away 75% of our belongings, and transferred the rest 881 miles north to the Upper West Side. It has been…a lot.

This was emotional (and yes, the yard needs to be watered).

But we are here and getting settled. In the past three days, I’ve spent probably five hours with our internet provider service people and we’re still awaiting delivery of half of our new furniture. Today, I’m going to tour some podcast studios and meet with some comedy folks, so it’s starting. Slowly, but for real.

In the meantime, I thought I’d share with you some funny things I ran across during the move. No matter how much de-cluttering you think you’ve done—and really, you cannot do enough—you’re going to run across some odd memories and nostalgic items when you pack up. Here are a few of mine…

The Liquid Paper change to my Year Average grade in Social Studies merits a Senate investigation.

My mother saved all of my report cards from first grade through high school. Somehow, these made the cut in all of her and my dad’s multiple down-sizings during the last years of their lives. Since then, I just didn’t have the heart to throw them out. Until now. No one has inquired as to my GPA since internship interviews in 1995 when it became clear that I would become neither a consultant nor an investment banker. But for the record, the A’s and B’s above were earned in a time before grade inflation. Just FYI, McKinsey.

Memphis and Shelby County Health Department certification for “Preparation, Storage, and Serving of Food.”

The summer after my junior year at Rhodes College, I stayed in Memphis, lived in a squalid apartment, and waited tables at the Peabody Hotel (which is pronounced “peeee'-body,” not “pibbiddy,” you Boston morons). Apparently, they needed a certain percentage of employees to be government-certified in food handling, and they figured I could navigate the coursework. It wasn’t terribly difficult, and I always found the formality of this recognition to be hilarious. I framed it and had it hanging next to my college BA and Dartmouth MBA sheepskins. This kind of hilarious juxtaposition is tolerated when you have a basement the size of a football field, but not so much when you radically downsize. Adios, ironic diploma.

The inscription on the portrait reads “Best Fishes”

To me, Steve Martin is the John Lennon of comedy - an absolute original of style and substance. I recall this 45 of his earliest hits being in our house since the late ‘70s. I no longer have a turntable—sorry, I’m just not cool enough—and this doesn’t make for great wall art when you’re 55. But every time I see these items, they make me smile. I hope their new owner enjoys them.

I have a very warm feeling for the time I spent at LAUNCH and Yahoo! from 1997-2005. I met incredible people and established friendships that endure to this day (some of you are reading this now. Hello!). But perhaps the motivation for hanging onto this ID from 2002 was to document the hair that would soon abandon me. Note the fax line and lack of a mobile number on the LAUNCH business card. Damn we’re old.

Similar to my food handling certification, it’s hilarious to see that former Georgia Governor Joe Frank Harris testified to my completion of “Alcohol and Drug Awareness Program,” when I was in eight grade. This was full-on Nancy Reagan / Just Say No era, and it must have worked because just a few years later in college, I certainly proved my awareness of drugs and alcohol. Thanks, Joe Frank!

If you know, you know. If you don’t, no amount of explaining will convert you. I probably acquired this Beavis & Butthead toilet paper in the late ‘90s. I kept it around because it made me laugh every time I saw it, and perhaps because I thought it would appreciate in value someday. However, the more-than-adequate supply on eBay indicates there are myriad other silly, middle-aged men-children out there who shared my delusion. Thanks for the memories, Cornholio.

That’s it for now. If you want to hear more insights into why we made this move, I share lots of them in this week’s episode of the Crazy Money podcast, which you can listen to here.

Until next time…