The City or the Country?

That is the question...

Indonesian Wedding on the Bayridge Promenade. Brooklyn, NY

Greetings, folks,

It finally happened. That’s right. I’ve reached that stage in life when I’m starting to think about whether I should stay in the city after I retire (six more years to go) or hide out in the country. It’s the kind of decision that has me flipping back and forth like a scared cat on a hot tin roof in Springfield, Ohio.

Upstate New York or the backwoods of Vermont, with its fresh air, rolling hills, and the kind of peace that makes you wonder if time has actually slowed down, would be a paradise on earth if it weren’t for mosquitoes, cow dung hanging off mailboxes, and folks who can only speak one language.

Crystal Lake. Sunset. Callicoon, NY

But then there’s the city. The city! Where the energy pulses through the streets, and you can feel it humming in your bones. The subway clatters above and below, a symphony of metal and momentum, reminding you that you’re part of something bigger.

Waiting For the Train

Waiting for Love

Plus, the people—mostly from Uzbekistan, Pakistan, and Absurdistan (also known as Russia), at least in my neighborhood. Sure, sometimes they laugh at me for wearing Keds at my age and not having a single gold tooth in my mouth. But where else can you witness a guy in a panda suit and a turban playing “I Left My Heart in San Francisco” on the accordion on a random Tuesday? The city is jazz; it’s messy, unpredictable, and somehow makes you feel more alive.

Muslim Women & Hassidic Men

I’ve amassed a collection of photos from both realms —

— snapshots of serene landscapes, where the sky is so blue it looks like it’s been photoshopped, and fields that roll out like an endless emerald carpet. On the flip side, I’ve got gritty, black-and-white images of subway cars and winding streets, where the eclectic cast of characters makes each frame feel like a scene from Brazil or The Lobster. Each photo tugs at my heartstrings in its own way: the country shots hum a gentle tune, “Come here, breathe,” while the city snaps belt out a boisterous anthem, “Stay here, live it up!”

The truth is, I don’t know what I’ll choose. Maybe I’m just not ready to choose at all. “Why not embrace the indecision?” says my neighbor Khalil. “Why can’t you ride two camels with one ass?”

Perhaps he’s right. Who says I can’t have both? I could be a city mouse during the week, soaking up the hustle and bustle, then escape to the country on weekends to recharge my batteries while my wife daydreams, swims in an algae-covered lake, and does some organic gardening. Or maybe I’ll just keep torturing myself with this dilemma until one day I realize the perfect place was somewhere in between all along—wherever I am, camera in hand, capturing the beauty of both worlds.

I’ll keep you posted… if I’m still on this side of the rainbow at 67.

Thanks for reading and being a subscriber.

‘Til next time,

ak