A New Gang In Town

Moving from Queens was difficult for me. I loved our tiny second story apartment next to the Triborough Bridge, our Greek/Italian neighborhood, our ward, our friends, even the grouchy Greek owners of our neighborhood laundromat where I could never follow "laundry protocol" exactly to their liking. I was anxious for a fresh start but I also felt like we were falling into a stereotype that I had wanted to avoid -- yet another young family from the West who had moved to NYC to get ahead, and now that we had, were moving to the suburbs to live large (although really, how could any of us confine our NYC experience to such a narrow stereotype?)

We definitely aren't living large, but by Queens standards, the town we live in now feels like a country club. We spend our summers kicking back at the neighborhood pools and lakes, our winters at the town center drinking hot chocolate and ice skating. I took a tour of our neighborhood school last week and I wanted to cry out in joy to the public school gods. I couldn't have thought up a better school for my kids - a diversified student body, a strong arts and science focus. The kids were busy, happy and learning.

Yet I still feel twinges of guilt when I use my shiny new appliances, when I shop at clean stores with plenty of aisle space for my cart, when I drive my car for that matter....usually unlocked. "You are such a sellout, " I tell myself. Living in New York, that lifestyle we loved to hate....that felt real. This life...it feels more like an extended resort vacation.

Well, it turns out my little East Coast Camelot isn't perfect. I have uncovered a gang problem of sorts in my town and its members are extremely territorial and prone to violence. In fact, I have been attacked twice in the past two weeks.

Let me explain....since winter has lifted, I have spotted tons of geese around town. At first, it was a fun game for me and the boys. Spot a goose, count the geese....anything to keep them busy during our errands around town. Then I started riding my bike into work (I work 2-3 times a week teaching SAT prep classes) and noticed geese not just near water sources, but hanging out on street corners at busy intersections. Both of my "attacks" occurred at busy intersections that a goose had claimed as its own.

My first attack, I was woefully naive of the danger at hand. I remember thinking how cute it looked....like an overgrown duck. When the goose saw me approach, arched its neck, flapped its wings, started squawking in that half-crazed way and headed my direction, I was so stunned I actually stopped my bike. When the goose kept coming towards me, I decided I'd better get away, but not before feeling a couple of sharp nips from its beak on my ankle.

The second attack, the following week, was much like the first. This time, however, I tried to fake out the goose by changing directions on my bike, like a basketball player penetrating toward the hoop. I avoided bites the second time around, but the memories are still fresh wounds.

As I told my younger sister on the phone the other day....now here's something that would never happen to me in New York!