One Year Later... A New Life In Virginia

In “The Book of Questions,” there’s a query that goes like this: “Which would you prefer: a wild, turbulent life filled with joy, sorrow, passion & adventure, intoxicating successes and stunning setbacks—or a happy, secure, predictable life without such wide swings of fortune and mood?”

It’s a question that has remained in my mind’s eye since I discovered the book in 1987. Ultimately, when I moved to New York City in 1995 for my dream job at Billboard magazine, I experienced the former. Life was crazy cool: so many highs amid a career that allowed me to prove my moxie as a writer in a forum that mattered—and apparently made a difference to the many artists I supported.

Among my roles there, my calling card was Singles Reviews Editor. I was the geeky pop guy that championed acts that seldom garnered kudos from the mainstream press. From Celine Dion and Jim Brickman to those 90s’ pop boom acts (‘N Sync, BSB, Jessica Simpson, 98 Degrees, Christina Aguilera, BBMak, Hanson), I became the de facto champion of “great melodies.”

I also had the opportunity (and the real estate) to amp newbie artists that deserved press from the industry’s “music Bible.” I recognized the power that BB’s team of veteran journalists possessed in an era when the mag still mattered—and man oh man, was it paid forward—through a lifetime’s worth of awesome memories (not to mention a robust Starfucker wall of grab & grin photos).

In 2009, when Nielsen was looking to sell the company, the recession presented an ideal excuse to excise Billboard’s veteran writers and lean up its bottom line. One by one, the talented scribes were laid off. March 25 was my D-Day. I was called in, fired—and yet had two interviews scheduled for the afternoon: a video

interview for billboard.com with Ashely Tisdale and a phoner with Lionel Richie.

Buck up, baby! I walked around Billboard’s East Village neighborhood for an hour after getting canned, shared the news with my work besties Kristina, Christa & Donna, whimpered a bit, and then put it aside to get on with business.

After the Lionel interview, I got an email from the label’s publicist that went something like this: “I don’t know what just happened, but Lionel said he had one of the best interviews of his career with you. Obviously, you got him—and he surely got you.” Well, then, a fitting finale.

The point of all this is to define life since then… and the details matter, because life was profoundly different in the years following. Suddenly, I was a “freelance journalist.” I know meeself: Give me an assignment and a deadline and I’ll deliver. I’m the ultimate minion. As a self-starter, um, not so much. I’m a fine writer but unfortunately, a less enterprising entrepreneur.

Thankfully, the U.S. Census came to my rescue. For nine months in 2010, I had the time of my life working with wickedly smart folks and learning to love my Brooklyn in a brand new way. I was there long enough to gambol through snowdrifts and then trod the streets with a summer flop sweat. Indelible. I also met Suzanne, a lifer friend.

In 2013, I finished renovating my Brooklyn Heights apartment. It took more than a decade and suddenly, I was… listless. Meanwhile, I tossed my own 50th birthday party the year before and recognized that… the times are a’changing.

Folks move on, lives change and friendships fade. Not to mention that NYC was no longer my bounty: no more wining & dining, free concerts, countless glamorous events or… most important… a concrete reason to be in the most expensive city in the nation. It didn’t help that my 10-year relationship came to a rather disastrous end in 2011.

And so: What the hell am I doing here?

In the summer of 2013, I began fantasizing about a new chapter. I sniffed out Las Vegas, Austin, San Diego, parts of Florida… I wanted warmth (the endless New York winters were exhausting) and space and a car and the ability to stretch out both arms without smacking a wall (in my 950 square foot apartment). I wanted my doggies Abby & Spencer to be able to RUN.

When I came to Hampton Roads that fall with life-long pal Trix in tow—staying with 20-year friends Bill & Mary—I was only “exploring” the area. I never expected to FIND MY FOREVER HOME. On September 13, 2013, I walked into this house in Norfolk and said: “I want to die here.”

On January 15, 2014, I began to LIVE here. That was one year ago today. And this is where I return to “The Book of Questions.” Highs and lows, indeed. First, this house is ridiculous… a 4,000sf mid-century modern “estate” that has maintained its aesthetic since it was built in 1962 (the year of my birth!). I am madly in love.

As soon as I hit Hampton Roads, I got busy: I’ve gutted two bathrooms, replaced all windows & sliding doors, installed a new HVAC system, ran a gas line, filled in a huge but sadly decrepit concrete pool… oh, and painted the front door red. That was among my only DIYs (I’ve learned over so many years to depend on the experts; I can’t cut a straight line with scissors).

I’ve worked the land, growing tomatoes, planting bulbs and harvesting sunflowers, I observe geese, seagulls, raccoons, squirrels, so many birds… and have witnessed sunrises & sunsets that foster a physical reaction that’s so warm & fuzzy you’d think I was experiencing my first kiss. Oh, yeah, and there’s that, too. I’ve even reignited that pitifully lacking aspect of my life (here in lil’ ole Norfolk). I've met new friends… and lost 25 pounds. (I’m particularly fond of the latter.)

Over the past year, there have also been challenges (here come the lows). Losing my beloved Schnauzers Abby & Spencer within three months, in August and October—with different illnesses—is the most difficult life event I have ever dealt with. I cannot understand it. My heart is still broken and I continue to cry.

In addition, when you’re 50, it’s not so easy to connect with newbies. And god knows when you work from home, it’s pretty much impossible to connect (duh). I’ve worked to put myself out there (I could do better, but couldn't we all?)—and there are a handful of wondrous new friends—but everybody has their established lives. I get it.

The good thing is that I am a writer. Is there any career that is more solitary? I think fellow journos will understand this: We are the ultimate extroverted introverts. Writing is wholly solitary. All of my life, that has been joyful. It’s just me and my beautiful words. We get along fine. And so… if I occasionally feel isolated in my new life here in Virginia, I step back and say to myself (not out loud… I haven’t reached that point yet)… “Damn, Chuck, you entertain the hell out of yourself.” So I guess we’re... uh... I’m happy enough. I happen to enjoy my own company immensely.

In all, ONE YEAR LATER, I am filled with joy each day to wake up with the sun rising through my bedroom window (drapes? hell, no!). Over coffee every morning (in the winter months), I open my iPhone weather App and compare Norfolk & NYC and utter a big “heeee.” Blissful weather!

Getting in a car on a whim and going anywhere… wheee!! Freedom! Taking a road trip to the Eastern Shore or Williamsburg… wowsah! Sniffing around Walmart, Dollar General, Big Lots, Dollar Tree and gargantuan grocery stores and paying next to nothing compared with $$$ in NYC... rah rah!! Even though I left NYC, I still live like a "depression baby."

And I have family here: my beloved Francie, and Mary & Bill, and that handful of new friends that I adore (more to come in 2015? I’m a fun guy, right?). My parents are now a 4-hour drive away.

Yes, I am fortunate to have this crazy cool home that I dig, indulge and truly treasure as a blessing. It's just plain fun. I know this is the kind of place that will "never be done," which, to me, is a beautiful thing. God knows I love a project. And right alongside, I am still in the midst of the grand evergoing project known as life. This still feels like a new beginning, with all hope for so much good to come. *

"Now my story has been told, time for the future to unfold..."—Junior Turner

The Sun Sets In DUMBO

I caught this quintessential view of the Manhattan Bridge in Brooklyn's DUMBO earlier this week, just as dusk peaked, casting a gold hue over the blue-green iron of the structure. Actually, the Empire State Building is positioned just in the center of the lower opening of the Bridge, but the sun was so bright, it's completely washed out... All the same, I likey. *

It's 9 O'Clock... Do You Know Where Your Storm Center Is?

The waiting continues, as Hurricane Sandy continues barreling Northeast, with "unheard of" winds already reaching 75 mph. The storm is moving 15 mph, and could make landfall anywhere between Sandy Hook, N.J., and Delaware. "Once it arrives, a high-pressure system will have the effect of a cork in a bottle, sealing the storm in the area so it can’t escape," reports CBS 2 meteorologist Lonnie Quinn.

Meanwhile, the Brooklyn Heights Promenade is eerily quiet and virtually deserted, while, the BQE Highway was spooky desolate as residents hunker down for predicted rains of 5-9" and sustained winds of 40 mph with gusts up to 80 mph, which could persist for up to 36 hours.

Inland areas may see downed trees, power outages, torrential downpours and possible tornadoes. Quinn says, "It's like giving this storm a Monster energy drink."

Last year, Hurricane Irene dumped 11 inches of rain over 3-7 hours, as opposed to Frankenstorm's exposure from 24 to 36 hours. *

Image Of The Day: Frankfurters In Downtown Brooklyn

A relic of the past... or not. This campy Hamburger/Frankfurter stand still exists in rapidly gentrifying Downtown Brooklyn... but for how long? I obviously gave it a 1960's digital redo. *

Vintage Victory! The Ambassador Double Burger & Sandwich Maker

As an ever-resourceful shopper, one of my favorite destinations is Unique Thrift Store in Downtown Brooklyn. Last week I gamboled around the premises for goodies and happened upon a vintage double burger cooker/sandwich maker that had to have been from the late 1970s.

When I opened the box, I was giddily amazed to discover that the item had never been used. All of the original packing was in place, it was pristine clean and even included the little recipe booklet. It was almost too good to be true. Perhaps the only thing better was the price: $7.99. Oh, come on, how could I resist?

Not only is the Ambassador "Burger & Sandwich Maker Double Size" capable of cooking burgers in one minute, but you can also make grilled cheese sandwiches and tuna melts, while using the "grill" to cook eggs, bacon and steaks. Eureka!

Once I brought my prize home, I searched the web for retro ads and any info I could find about the appliance... I found nothing, except one newspaper advert from a department store in 1978 offering the item on sale for $24.88.

On Friday, I cooked my first burger, and indeed it was better than any previous means I've used with modern technology. George Foreman Grill is a mess to try and clean, while a frying pan makes a spattered mess of the simple task. Of course, there are comparable devices made today, but every once in a while, they got it right way back when. And retro... even better. Delish! *

Atlantic Antic: Sunday Afternoon Along Brooklyn's Atlantic Avenue

The annual Brooklyn Atlantic Antic street fair makes other New York outdoor festivals look like mincemeat in comparison. The 38th-annual event, sponsored by the Atlantic Avenue Local Development Corporation, extends one full mile from noon-6 p.m. through four BK nabes, from the border of Brooklyn Heights along Atlantic Avenue at Hicks Street all the way to Park Slope at Fourth Avenue.

While it showered shortly after the festivities got underway on Sunday, by mid afternoon, the sun was shining amid cool early autumn temps... making it an idyllic day for a (long) stroll alongside thousands of Brooklynites, enjoying the more than 500 artists, craftspeople, musicians and merchants purveying a wonderfully ethnic variety of food, fun, dancing, booths and tons of music. God, I love my Brooklyn. *

Who Needs Manhattan? Downtown BK Renewal A Bona Fide Reality

When The New York Times pens a story on the revitalization of Downtown Brooklyn's Fulton Mall—just steps from my beloved Brooklyn Heights neighborhood, it heralds a watermark moment: sort of like, if the Times sniffs it as a reality, the revival has got to have credence. Its August 28 piece announced "National Retailers Discover a Brooklyn Mall."

I fell in love with DT BK while working for the U.S. Census Bureau in 2010, walking the mile-long stretch from the Heights through Fulton Mall nearly every day.

While I dug its seedy persona—with wig shops, pawn shops, cash-checking joints and low-cost clothing—you could smell change in the air... as one, then another national retail chain took a chance on what was once Brooklyn's premiere shopping district. Back then, it was distinctly racially divided; often, I was the only white dude walking down the street. That's certainly not the case anymore, as gentrification has meshed the color lines. Truly, two years later, I hardly recognize the place.

The Downtown Brooklyn Partnership's $300 million public improvements initiative to remake the flailing shopping mecca got the ball rolling at the beginning of the decade after 30 years of neglect, with newly paved streets and traffic patterns, wider sidewalks, contempo streetlights and shiny new bus stops that immediately gave the dingy streetwalk a glistening whitewash.

Much credit also has to go to Shake Shack, whose opening in December 2011 was perhaps the turning point, with a chain willing to take a chance on the promise of Fulton Mall. This year alone, the 17-block walkway has welcomed (or soon will): Gap Factory Outlet, Brooklyn Industries, Starbucks, Raymour & Flanigan, Victoria’s Secret, Express, Armani Exchange, Nordstrom Rack, H&M, TJ Maxx, Aeropostale, Seattle's Best, Century 21 and the mammoth City Point's 1.6 million square foot commercial, retail and residential project, due for completion in 2018. Add to that the development of Willoughby Square Park. Albee Square abutting City Point, new restaurants along Adams Street and the coming of the Downtown Tech Triangle... So are you paying attention Apple? Meanwhile, the ink keeps on flowing about Downtown Brooklyn's rejuvenation.

Racked posted a piece, "National Chains Are Still Racing to Open on Fulton Street," which discusses Raymour & Flanigan furniture store's 28,000 sf lease for the second floor of 490 Fulton Street, scheduled to open in February; and notes an undisclosed developer that's close to signing a 45,000sf lease with a major apparel retailer. In addition, The Real Deal wrote about "How Fulton Street is attracting national retailers," pointing out that Century 21 is the first department store to open in the nabe in some 50 years.

The Daily News noted the area's revolution, "long home to neon-lit sneaker shops, hot dog stands and cell phone stores" to its evolution as "state-of-the-art Brooklyn, complete with skyscraping condo towers and flowery landscaping along Flatbush Ave. Extension." Curbed remarked, "Fulton Street Mall Gets Popular," while The New York Observer profiled Michael Weiss, CEO of Express, which opened a new outlet in August at 490 Fulton Street. Even AP alerted its press members about the in-the-works story. And let's not forget one of the primary reasons for the area's boom: a revolution in Downtown highrise housing.

Brooklyn Heights residents are indeed eyewitnesses to a truly historic urban revival—just steps away from our homes—destined to forever change the texture of the neighborhood... literally week by week. Hey, who needs Manhattan, anyway? *

Civil Servant: My Day Of Serving Jury Duty

On Wednesday, I was called to offer due diligence as a civil servant of Kings County, N.Y.—for jury duty. This marks the third time I've been beckoned for the joyful task... once in the 1990s in Manhattan when I lived in Tribeca, and six or so years ago here in Brooklyn. In both cases, I was never so much as interviewed to be on a jury.

But this time was a little different. I came within a hyena's hair of being selected for a litigation trial that begins July 10. (Fortunately), it appears my big mouth and tendency to have an opinion about any & all likely kept me from duty.

I arrived at the Kings County Courthouse on Adams Street in Brooklyn Heights at 8:30 a.m., and joined at least 400 others in a large auditorium, which was actually quite modern, offering free wireless access and comfortable seating. After watching the requisite film about how important jury duty is blah blah, a gentleman explained the lay of the day. We were expected to sit until 5 p.m., waiting to be called for potential jury service by any number of trial attorneys.

If our name was called and we weren't present, we were punished by returning to the jury pool again. If we left before 5 p.m. or were late returning from lunch, shit outta luck.

I sat from 9 a.m. to 1 p.m. and scratched my butt, as dozens & dozens were called out... Finally, around 3:30 p.m., my name was called and I joined about 25 others in "Room 5." We sat in the sterile gray square box, as two attorneys representing opposing sides explained that they were involved in a litigation trial for personal injuries. Attorney 1 represented Plaintiff X, who had been "injured." Attorney 2 represented Port Authority, which oversees transportation between New York and New Jersey.

The case, which has been treading water for 4-1/2 years, would now go to trial to decide if the woman deserves a big-ass cash settlement from Port Authority, or whether she had either lied or exaggerated the extent of her injuries, and would thus receive nada.

All of us filled out one-sheet questionnaires, asking about education, the neighborhood you live in, where you were born, career, hobbies and whether you've been the victim of a crime, been convicted, served on a trial previously, work as a doctor, lawyer or in the insurance biz...

First, among the 25 or so of us, about 6 or 7 alleged they'd be on vacation and out of town when the trial is scheduled in July. While they thought they were clever enough to dodge duty, the attorneys then let them know they'd probably go back in the pool and their Wednesday duty wouldn't count on the books (oh, har har!).

From there, six of us were called to the front row to be grilled for 30+ minutes about our opinions regarding litigation cases. Yup, I was among them. One of the questions: "Do you feel like we are an over-litigated society?" That's when my gums started flapping. I said that I believe many New Yorkers actually hope they might trip on a sidewalk crack so they can sue the city: "People stump their toe and start sniffing for money." I also noted that every morning I hear ads on the radio for lawyers fishing for folks that have been injured, promising lucrative settlements.

The grilling continued, asking whether we had prejudice against folks with foreign accents, knowledge of the McDonald's hot coffee-granny case, whether we read the news media... on and on... We then took a break, returned and the attorneys informed us that the 15 or so who (were not taking vacation during the trial and) had been sitting quietly behind the in the front row were all dismissed... And that among we six that had been interviewed, four had been selected to be on the jury (among what will ultimately be a total of six jurors and two alternates).

The first name called was a barely audible painfully shy guy of Asian descent... Second was a barely audible shy young white American woman. Then a very intelligent, college-educated former Wall Street black woman from Barbados... And then (deep breath)... a well-spoken black 20-something American guy. The two omitted: ME and a woman who worked for the criminal justice system and had served as a witness in several trials.

With that, my duty was done and I returned to the auditorium to wait another 15-20 minutes until we were  released at 4:30 p.m. As I walked into the beautiful sunny late afternoon with my "Juror's Proof of Service Certification," good for eight years, I felt pretty invigorated. I soaked up an experience that is certainly far from any ordinary day. And I had done my duty, come out clean on the other side and now don't have to give this another thought until 2020.

I figure by then I'll be twice as opinionated... or barely capable of remembering my name or how to tie my shoes and zip my britches... so that no attorney would give me a second glance. Right? *