After making the decision in 2002 to go from renting an apartment to owning a home together in Midtown, JB was adamant about one thing: he didn't want to live in a high-rise. I teased about how strange it was that a flight attendant would be afraid of heights. But he explained it was a matter of convenience. He didn't want to park his car and still be five minutes away from home.
I guess that made sense. Not to mention the obligatory expense of a non-astronomical telescope.
While I thought it would be neat to have an expansive city view, it wasn't a main concern. I wanted to be as close to the park as we could afford. I could pretend it was my own back yard which I magnanimously chose to share with the entire city.
When we settled on our close-to-the-ground condo, I did worry a little about feeling closed in. Like living in the bottom of a canyon, with not much of a view to speak of. Not that it would matter during most of the year when the trees around us are in full foliage.
But when the leaves fall, I have to say I really like our view. I just have to remember to wear pants.
I think it was a good choice. While an impressive view can certainly add value, it's not guaranteed to last in this neighborhood. Just ask our friend who lives in the building next door. We used to have drinks on his tenth-floor balcony and envy his 180º vista of Downtown Atlanta. One day we noticed they were knocking down all the old houses below him. Eight months later all he can see from his window is someone else's big-screen TV.
If you want to buy his telescope, it's on Craig's List.