5 things that I never expected would happen when moving from Boca Raton, Florida, with 50% of it’s population 45 and over, to Boston, one of the cities with the youngest populations in the US:
1. I would use much more of my Yiddish vocabulary. Apparently I had to make up for the lack of my Jewish grandparents’ presence by sprinkling schvitzing and yenta into every sentence possible.
2. I would still be hot… all the time. Everyone loves the Florida heat and sun, but having said that, everyone knows what they’re getting into. Whenever I told someone I was going up north for college, the first thing out of their mouths was that I was going to freeze my Floridian butt off and that I NEEDED to bring a good coat, warm boots and plenty of layers. Things they didn’t tell me to bring: a fan, another fan, and an air conditioner. Apparently even in Boston summers, falls and springs are still hot, who knew?
3. I would sorely miss a Sunday bagel and lox, a good Cuban sandwich and even gefilte fish. I’m not saying I don’t love the Autumn harvest foods, I hadn’t eaten a bite of acorn squash until coming here, but sometimes I just need a good Toojay’s sandwich, some boiled yucca or a Floridian orange.
4. I would still have my early bird special at 5 pm. Granted, now this is just my late lunch, but I like to imagine the two for one deals that Dewick would have to get the older crowd in for the week night eggplant parmesan specials.
5. I would look forward to staying home and knitting. So far I’ve made 5 scarves, a Viking helmet, half of a baby hat and a blarf, a blanket that I accidentally made too long so is now the coziest misshapen shmatte you’ve ever seen.
All's well that ends well. I miss some of Boca's charm, but I'll take being the older soul in a young town any day.