Dirty Jerz

 New Jersey is toxic and I'm afraid it's going to kill my baby.

Now, it's no big secret that New Jersey and I have 

a love/hate relationship; since moving here a decade ago, 

my stress levels have increased as much as 

my cost of living: both have grown exponentially.

I want my daughter to grow up footloose and Prada free

but at the same time, I want her to have tennis lessons 

and a pony.  And yes, I also want her to spend 

part of her summers here because the stories my college 

roommate told of her summers are ones 

I want my daughter to replicate as her own.

The other portions of Bebe's summers will be spent

with us, traveling the world and visiting 

family in Great Britain, of course.

Her Scottish aunties and godmother will just eat her up.

But will all that be possible if we remain in New Jersey?

Will we be able to afford a lifestyle that affords our

daughter a life of humble privilege? Or will I end up

with an entitled Sammi the Sweetheart on my hands?

I worry about the life I'm bringing BeBe in to

and struggle daily with how it's going to affect her.

Traffic, pollution, lack of open space, poor air quality,

tens of thousands of pounds of chromium buried 

under golf courses and residential communities,

 political corruption and the fear that the educational

system is going to collapse under the weight of Trenton

are just a sampling of issues I have with the Garden State.

I'm not saying that I want to raise my daughter 

far from the madding crowd, either.  I've grown

accustomed to city life and enjoy many of its perks.

I just wish that NYC's urban planners of old would have

taken some time to think about the rest of us to come.

Would it have been so difficult to follow models

across the pond?  In 15 minutes, one can leave London

and be in a lovely village along a gorgeous river, 

resplendent with swans and long boats, waterside

pubs and gorgeous walking paths: 

a true respite from city life.

A place a child can grow up not knowing 

there even is a city within stones' throw.

A place with fabulous train lines that would

allow a child to never experience the 

death threats of the NJ Turnpike.

Those places exist.

I know, I've been there.