I’m flying to New York bright and early on Saturday morning. It will probably be my last weekend there for a while, which is definitely bittersweet. On one hand, i’m so thrilled JAM is moving down and will be close enough to see on a regular basis. On the other hand, I’m sad that I won’t have an excuse to fly up there whenever.

What are my plans? I have no idea right now. For me, being in New York is enough. Some of my favorite memories from there have stemmed from being in the right place at the right time. One Friday I was up there for job interviews and ended up having time to walk through the Gates exhibit and photograph people with their dogs with a Holga I picked up at the ICP. Another time, jon and I were up there over our spring break in college, and got up early enough on gray sunday morning to ice skate in Central Park with no one else out there. I remember randomly running into people I knew and having impromptu coffees, or meeting at Cosmic after work for what may be the best Sangria I’ve ever had.

Part of living in New York were these random experiences that helped my view of the city and myself constantly evolve. I was so lucky to live in a great neighborhood, and lucky to live four floors above Max, a radio DJ for about a hundred years, who had lived in the Village since the 40s. I enjoyed meeting people like Ned Otter, whose Father, Robert Otter, was a photographer and for fun photographed the Village during the 60s. Once he photographed Salvador Dali’s bathtub after the artist had dumped various paints in it, then perceived that as beautiful. He also captured Vietnam and Civil Rights protest in Washington Square Park, people picking up bread and cheese from the Bleecker Street Shops, and kids playing in fire hydrants. His work is fantastic and I’m so glad his son now reprints the negatives.

Hopefully we’ll spend a lot of time walking the city this weekend, maybe hitting up some Lower East Side places. I spent most of my time in the city on the West side, unless I was up town, and will be glad to see something new. It feels like a farewell. Even though I know it iwll be there the next time I head up there, it feels like a different chapter of my life is opening up.

Remembering Mr. Wright – City

One of the most important people in Chapel Hill died last week. Frank Taylor Wright was as much a fixture on Franklin Street as Sutton’s Drug Store or the Varsity. He was an unbelievable 90 years old. While I was pretty sure that he was well on up there, I had no clue that he was approaching 100 years old.

I remember his fabulous outfits, and I mean outfits that that would put any NYC designer to shame. He coordinated everything carefully. He was up at 5 a.m. every morning except Sunday, dressed in a suit that matched, and caught the 7 a.m. bus to Chapel Hill. Here he would walk the streets, parading in a way. Students would talk to him, and if you spoke to him long enough he would show you his portfolio. He had it done many years ago, by a student who wanted him to show off his collection.

I loved speaking to Mr. Wright. I really did, and it’s not just because I love talking to older people. He was a really nice man who remembered everything about Chapel Hill. If you couldn’t remember the name of the place that had been in a space before, he could. It was as if Franklin Street was imprinted on his mind even if he wasn’t imprinted on its history. Until two years ago, when someone did a mural in the Bank of America building on the way to Goldie’s. Sure enough, there was Mr. Wright, sitting on a bench, smiling broadly and wearing his famous aubergine suit. I loved that suit. And loved him.

Sometimes I worry that the character of Chapel Hill is being lost as quickly as it was developed. We are losing people who remember it before Qdoba occupied the corner of Franklin and Columbia, and before Aveda took over the space once reserved for the Michael Jordan Steakhouse- 23. Does anyone besides me even remember that? Changes are a constant on Franklin. This year alone a bakery is coming into a space that once sold Greek attire, and Julian’s opened up across the street. Kerr Drugs closed and that space remains empty.

It’s hard to let go of what is at once familiar. It’s hard to admit that things change, that people’s tastes change. I remember being very upset when the Visart down Franklin (it’s now Chipotle) closed. They couldn’t compete with other video sources, such as Netflix. And yet, I didn’t go there every weekend. Only when I really wanted to rent a movie. I just hope that CHapel Hill can take a second to stop and think about what is great about this place. And hold onto it. And I hope we all remember Mr. Wright.

“I have to believe people were born for something, and I was born to dress.” -Mr. Frank Taylor Wright

Yes, I had a small accident. My first in seven years, to be exact. And hopefully my last. Since the repair shop completely underestimated when i would be retrieving my own vehicle I was forced to deal with the reality of living in Small Town America again: The Rental Car. Which meant I had to deal with another reality- who was going to pay for this rental car? I try to budget 40 dollars a week for food.

That meant having to call the parents and say, “mom, you want to pay for my rental car?” Fortunately I am a Southern girl and they said yes, as long as I promised not to wreck it. So I called Enterprise and now have a very bright red Nissan Versa with unlimited mileage. And it’s an automatic. Which, if you’re used to a stick, can be complicated. I keep wanting to drive with two feet. And it does something weird when I park it.

At the same time, it’s kind of fun. I never get to drive other cars (since I have had the same one for a while and plan on keeping it) and it makes me feel like a different person for some reason. It might be good for us to switch cars sometimes and see what it feels like to be driving a convertible or a Volvo or a Vespa. I think it actually makes us drive differently.

The good news is that my car is ready now and I’m turning in the rental in the morning. And I do miss the Jetta. Will keep you updated on how my driving is affected. What I HATE is having to explain to people why I have a “new” car.