Moving Up and Moving On

Two years ago today I interviewed for the position I now hold at the UCSF Library (during my presentation I said that librarians needed to be like jazz musicians rather than orchestra composers, advice that makes me smile today.)  Helen had already been accepted to the MBA program at Haas, so we knew we were moving in any case.  I'm grateful that I landed in a job I really like and care about.

While I was interviewing, Helen was across the bridge in Berkeley scouting out apartments.  That morning she saw the posting on Craig's List for the place we eventually took, at 2491 Ellsworth in Berkeley.  This was in the Picardo Arms, a building name that seemed appropriate for Niles Crane on Frasier.

I loved that apartment, more than any I've ever lived in.  You could see glimpses of the Bay and a broad sweep of SF on the other side.  There was an ironing board in the kitchen wall, and an old fashioned phone with two clanging bells (it didn't work) on the wall in the tiny foyer.   Other features: a sink that was perpetually dirty, pipes that often didn't work (when I'd complain, Helen would remind me that this is what it meaned to live in a building with "character"), and a nice walk in closet with a built in dresser.

I've been living in San Francisco permanently since April, but still had keys to the old place and my name was still on the lease.  Helen moved out yesterday, at the end of May.  So I was back in Berkeley a lot this weekend--on Saturday to decide what I wanted to take over to SF; Sunday morning, with a Penske truck and the excellent aid of Uri and John to help me move; and Sunday afternoon and early evening to help Helen with the final clean up and apartment inspection.  (She's now living in Berkeley with friends, before moving to London later this month.)

In every move previous to this we'd faithfully moved many possessions, literally across the country.  But now there were many things I didn't want, and Helen has to travel light since she's moving abroad.  So we threw away whatever couldn't be sold, or left it in the basement for the neighbors if we thought it could be useful.  It felt surreal to casually dispose of so many possessions that had gathered over the years.

As we were packing, Helen set aside a corner for final things I could take back to the Mission (some more artwork, sandwich bags...a true hodgepodge.)  The apartment inspection was done around 7:30 pm.  Then I went to dinner at Mario la Fiesta on Telegraph--on what turned out to be its final day at that location--before returning to the apartment to collect that hodgepodge.  I handed in the keys just before 9:00 pm, and the Berkeley years were officially over.

I've now realized that Helen and I were never the same after we came to the Bay.  We used to be so much better at making time for each other and at keeping up the rituals and traditions that sustained us.  It hasn't been two years of misery since we came here by any means, but it was a relationship that wasn't operating at its best.  Earning an MBA from such a great school stimulated Helen's natural independence and ambition to see the world, just at the time I wanted to make something of my career and start a family. 

These were "irreconcilable differences" indeed.

Since we decided to get a divorce, Helen has been extremely firm and very reluctant to engage in any looking back.  I've looked back constantly, but by this point know for sure that we'll both be happier apart than we would have been together.  I have  no illusions that we'll get back together, and no desire to do so.  All I want now is recognition that we had something special for a very long time.

That came today, as Helen started going through the greeting cards I'd given her over the years (at one  point, I singlehandedly kept Hallmark in business.)  She sent me an email describing some of the cards and explaining her reasons for wanting to split up.  This was the first time she'd ever done this since the night we decided to get a divorce, and her reasons mapped to mine very well. 

Helen closed by saying that she believes that good things--"really good things"--don't last forever.  Sometimes this is true, sometimes it's not.  But either way whatever came first was a really good thing.  That's what we had, and I'm very touched that Helen knows it.  

Comments

[Jeff]

Hi Marcus, that bit about your apartment reminds me of the house that I grew up in, and where Thom and I live now; built in the mid-1950s, the kitchen has a built-in ironing board that drops down from a thin cabinet in the wall, and a hard-wired rotary phone with bells (though that's from the '70s or '80s). The hallway has a phone niche, where we keep our cordless phone and DSL modem/router.

Hope you're doing well. Take care and thanks for sharing.

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Marcus

Really good things are shift changers I believe. Sometimes after they circle around they are not recocognized as the same as their beginnings. They are in disguise if you will.. Their origins may travel incognito.

Here is what I know for sure. This was never a trivial reltionship. It was something
really good for a long time and always under the rifts of shifts that will be true.
Linda