St. Patrick’s Day

St. Patrick’s Day has always been a favorite holiday of mine. I was lucky enough to have grown up with my great-grandparents still alive, and Great Grandpa Teddy was so round he always made me think of Humpty Dumpty with a brogue. He immigrated not long after his release from English prisons for his participation in the Easter Uprising, finding work on the railroads before opening up a Speakeasy in Hamilton Heights (then Harlem) during Prohibition. The Store was profitable enough for him to move the family up to Riverdale, where my Grandma Anne grew up and married fellow Riverdalian George. They lived in a few apartments in Riverdale before moving up to White Plains where my mom spent most of her childhood, but Riverdale still wasn’t on our radar when my husband and I started to look for houses in the NYC area.

We wanted a home off the subway, which was “not why people moved to Riverdale” according to the first broker we worked with, so we found a new one who located the perfect townhome <mile from the 1 train. The sense of home I’ve felt since moving up here must be generational, my children play in the same playground where my Aunt played on the swings while my infant mother slept. The neighborhood was predominantly Irish & Jewish in previous generations; the Jewish community still thrives and the Irish have been joined by more recent waves of immigrants from all over the world, creating the immaculate vibes of present-day Riverdale. While we grew our family and started to strain the townhome, my husband would occasionally send listings for larger homes in the surrounding areas, but I was adamant that I would never leave this exact neighborhood - where else would a local Dad create the world’s shortest St Patrick’s Day parade from Broadway & W 251st Street to Fieldston Terrace & W 252nd. My husband is an Aries born in the year of the Pig, so of course he found the perfect house still in my dream neighborhood, the inspiration for Last Stop. This house is our American dream - the idea that we can work hard, live well, and raise our children in a community which reflects our values. The only thing we found lacking in the area was an antiques shop, so here we are! Happy St. Patrick’s Day, to all of America’s immigrants.