Family Man™: A Moving Experience

By Gregory Keer

Driving home one night in June, I made a fatal mistake. I mentioned to my wife that if she wanted to rekindle her hobby of looking for a bigger house I would not object.

“You’re sure about this,” she asked, her long-simmering passion for home hunting rising within her.

I paused. A summer of playing with the kids, going on impromptu road trips – of keeping a balanced budget – all raced through my mind before I said, “I’m absolutely terrified, but now may be a good time to do this.”

There are occasions on which it is painfully evident that I am not a smart man. This was definitely one of them. If having a pregnant wife (whose hormones were understandably yet aggressively imbalanced), a 2-1/2-year-old heading to preschool, a 6-year-old preparing for first grade, and my own new teaching gig on the horizon made it a good time to move, then I was living a life straight out of a Steve Martin movie.

Still, the house we had spent the last five years in was directly across from a busy shopping center, and traffic on our street was increasing each day. Burger-joint trash was constantly strewn on our front lawn and there were no safe paths for our kids to ride bikes. We never got to know our neighbors because few hung around outside for many reasons, not the least of which were the two suspected bomb threats (complete with middle-of-the-night police evacuations) in the shopping center parking lot. It was time.

In midsummer, we found the right house. Situated in a less expensive neighborhood with quieter streets and loads of young families, we were drawn to the remodeled ’50s residence as a place that could be our home forever. Aside from all the family pluses, there was a detached office, where I would be able to write and dream in complete independence.