Home Sweet Home

Sweet Home Chicago, or maybe Auckland

Reading Laurie Stone’s wonderful descriptive writing about the challenges of life in New York in Apartment part 2, got me thinking about ‘home’. Everywhere around the world, people will tell you there is no place like home. But home could be a houseboat in Holland, an apartment in Chicago, or a shelter in Kenya.

If you’ve read my previous posts, you will know I have a soft spot for Robert Johnson and enjoyed visiting with his granddaughter in Crystal Springs, Mississippi. I don’t have a song in my Top #500 Songs playlist for this Substack, so we’ll go with Robert.

Yet the differences between us all are huge. I live in a suburb called Torbay, on the outskirts of Auckland, in New Zealand. When I was a kid, I didn’t even know the suburb existed. My first visit was when I was invited to spend a weekend as a teenager, to stay in a batch that their parents owned, near Long Bay Beach.

The beach is a crowded hotspot in summer, and I steer clear of it on the weekends. But I can wander for hours in winter and enjoy the solitude. It’s blissful, and it’s just a peaceful 10-minute stroll, through a marshy trail to reach it from my place.

The beach offers a stunning view of Rangitoto Island, a sleeping giant of a volcano. It’s the newest and largest of Auckland’s 48 volcanic cones, and it last spewed fire and lava about 600 years ago. Taking a ferry to explore the island is a perfect way to spend a sunny day, especially when you can admire the city skyline from its summit. But what’s curious is that Rangitoto always looks the same, no matter where you are in Auckland. It’s such a familiar sight on the horizon that we often forget to appreciate its beauty and history.

For the last 5 or so years I have mostly worked from home, which has pros and cons.

Our home is a rare gem in a sea of concrete, a third of an acre of green paradise that we share with our friendly neighbours. On one side, we have a lush garden and a mini forest, where birds and bees sing and buzz. On the other side, we have enough space to park a dozen cars or host a circus. But with Auckland’s housing crisis, we are becoming an endangered species, as more and more people squeeze into tiny boxes with no room to breathe. They call it modern living, but we know better. We are living the Kiwi dream.

Even our first house in the notorious area of Ranui sat on a quarter of an acre, but the house itself had one and a half bedrooms. We had to walk through the kids’ bedroom to get to ours. I talked about it in my video series about mistakes people make when buying their first home.

I travelled a lot and things came to a head when there was a rape and murder of an elderly woman at one end of our street, and a person got killed in a road rage incident on the other end of the street, while I was away on business. This was the only area we could afford to dip our toes into home ownership, and we were paying 21% interest, which left us with enough money to have BBQs with our neighbours, for our social life. My point though was that we still had a wonderful large section with trees and big lawns for the kids to play on with their friends, and for outdoor entertaining.

I digress. My routine for the last 5 years has mostly been to wake up, have a shower, and go downstairs to my home office. I worked hard, often long hours and while I was surrounded by my musical instruments, my work ethic wouldn’t allow me to take time to enjoy them, while I was working. I had often imagined taking breaks to play guitar to break up the day.

My last fixed-term contract ended on 3 November and I am looking for my next work gig. I’d like to go back to writing, but since COVID-19 and with the advent of AI, people seem to be expecting a lot more output for very little money, and there are a huge number of people around the world, living in countries where the minimum wage wouldn’t cover my council rates bill, let alone allow me to live a modest life.

So my life hasn’t changed a great deal while I am looking for my next ‘job’. I get up, have a shower, and go downstairs to my office to start looking at the employment websites while having a Nespresso and a bowl of yoghurt and muesli. Then I will check my emails, maybe do some writing, like this post, and check my social media.

This last two weeks, I have reintroduced myself to my guitars and average at least a couple of hours a day trying to polish songs I have arranged but haven’t mastered. The tips of my fingers on my left hand are like the soles of your feet. They are tough and sans any sign of a fingerprint.

I’m currently working on arrangements in the style of Charlie Byrd, Corcovado is a track I am arranging for myself at the moment. It’s one that I have messed with from time to time, but never completely studied. It’s wonderful to get back into learning and practice mode.

Several times a week, I will go for a walk on the beach, or one of several bush walks which are only 5 minute’s walk from our suburban street.

I walk up the tight road, where cars are strewn on both sides like discarded toys. The space is so cramped that cars can only squeeze through one at a time. It’s a game of chicken, where the winner is the one who yields first. And sometimes, it’s hard to find a gracious player.

Every week, I have the joy of picking up our 5-year-old granddaughter from school and last week we had a special treat. We got to see her shine in kapa haka, a beautiful display of Maori songs and dances. The haka, a fierce and powerful war cry, is one of the most famous ones. You might have witnessed it when our legendary All Black rugby team faced their opponents in a test match. This video captures the kids embracing the rich culture of our nation, a sight that fills every school with pride and spirit.

Are there things where you live that you might take for granted, but are quite special?