Tag: Apartment

Keys

We All Carry Keys – Are they the Keys to One’s Heart, Memories, Your Residence or Car?

A Set of Keys No Longer Needed

When you think of keys, the first that probably comes to mind are keys to your house or apartment. Maybe for those of us who own cars, you think of your car keys. Of course, these days cars and many homes open electronically. 

Perhaps you think of the keys to opening the heart of the woman you like, and she’d date you. I doubt you think of the character Keys, played by Peter Coyote in “E.T. – The Extra Terrestrial.”  There are better characters to think of, such as Gertie.

I would think we all own a few sets of house keys in our lifetime. I remember when I got my first set of keys. I was about 8 or 9, and they were for the house my parents, sister, and I lived in on Staten Island. Eventually, I got the car keys to my first car. It was my father’s Caddy. It became mine. I loved that vehicle. It was fun to cruise Staten Island while playing the Cure or Depeche Mode. When I took it to college, it was easy to make friends when you were on campus with a car. I drove everyone around. I played the same music.

I got residence hall and off-campus apartment keys at SUNY-New Paltz, and eventually keys to the apartments I rented and the one I now own. I own it. But currently, the bank owns me. Soon enough, it won’t. 

Years ago, after my father died, I had the keys to his Plant City, Fla., home. I sold it. The keys are gone. I don’t have the keys to my mom’s house anymore. I used to for many years after I moved out. Eventually, she got new doors that required different locks. At one point, I had the keys to my sister’s first apartment. We basically lived next to each other.  Nor do I have the keys to my prior dwellings.  Why would I keep them? They wouldn’t open any doors.

In addition to the Caddy, I have had two Nissan Sentras. I remember selling the third one. I still have one of the keys. Why? I have no idea. I doubt the car is still running. It was 2002. But maybe. I kept my second car from 1992 to 2002. It was in six figures in mileage.

There are the keys to opening the hearts of the people I like. Those keys do not fit the lock—nothing more to say.

I remember when my grandmother gave me the keys to her Brooklyn apartment. She kept giving me sets of keys. Eventually, one of the sets worked. She told me one might have been my grandfather’s set. He’s been gone for a while. Too long. One might have been the set she gave to a friend, and the list goes on. Eventually, I got the keys to her building and apartment. 

Of course, half the time I visited her, I never remembered them. I had to call her when I got there to be buzzed in. She can’t really hear. So, I had to call a few times. A few weeks ago, she went into the home (nursing home). She is now 99 years old. I’ve visited. It is hard to see her there. My mom, my aunt, and my uncle cleaned out her apartment. It was a rent-stabilized unit. She’s been there since before I was born. I figure the building will put it on the market. When the apartment was empty, my mom returned the keys to the super. My sets are in my kitchen—doubt they’d open the door anymore. Weeks ago, while she was still living there and we knew she was leaving, I mentioned to my mom that I guess I could toss the keys into the incinerator. She said not yet. Sadly, I think the time has come. But still holding on to them.

While I may no longer have the physical keys to my cars, dwellings, or whomever it is I like, I will always carry the vaulted memories of what they opened or could have opened.

Gadgets and the Kitchen Counter

Do You Have Enough Counter Space?

By Mitchell Slepian

Counter Space

If you live in a standard NYC apartment— be it in the city or the boroughs —you’re lucky if you have any counter space. My grandmother is the master of complaining about this. Her apartment has none. I have had three apartments. My current dwelling has a decent amount. The others had less. But more than grandma has. She has complained about that since I’ve known her. One of the first things she noticed and talked about when she visited my place was how much more counter space I had than she did.

She then made my grandfather count his steps as he walked through it. She was trying to figure out the square footage.  Unless you live in a beautiful Upper East or West Side apartment with a stunning kitchen with an island in the center to eat on and formal dining room, you have an eat-in kitchen and/or a tiny dining room. I have both. However, the area that could be used as a dining room is currently used for other purposes. My dad once said I should set one up for when you entertain. I said Who am I entertaining? Except for the maintenance staff, no one has been in my apartment in over three years. I am not unhappy about this situation. I prefer it because it keeps dirt out. My grandmother wondered if I really lived there. The place looks sterile. I wish it really were.

Now jumping back to my counter space. Like most of we have many things residing on them. For example, I have a crock pot. You can make more than just meatballs in it. My mom got one when I was young. All she ever made in it were meatballs. We used to joke around and say that’s all it can cook. Truth be told, you can make tons of things in it, and most of the time the food is lish (Lish is a summer camp term for delicious). Next to the crockpot is a steamer and an air fryer. Opposite the main counter is another one. It has various items chilling on it.

Next to the cooking equipment are my iPhone and Amazon Fire Tablet, along with their respective chargers. Sometimes my portable phone charger is there. It usually chills in the cabinet on my wine fridge’s table. I also have an Atari game player loaded with the games we played on the 2600 in the 1980s. No matter how much better the tech is today, those games are still the best. I’ll take Asteroids or Centipede over anything we have today.

By the sink are Dawn, a dish towel, and, of course, the utensil holder and cutting board. With all the junk we place on our counters. It is a wonder we can prep and cook our meals. Then there are the mistakes we make due to having too many gadgets.

The other day, I filled the crockpot with stew meat, barbecue sauce, celery, and carrots. I put it on high and walked away. A little while later, I walked past it. I was bewildered as to why it didn’t feel hot and heard no sounds of the sauce starting to cook. I spent a few minutes studying the situation. Then it hit me. I plugged the Fire Tablet’s cable into the outlet and walked away. I thought I had plugged in the crockpot. I made the switch. This is not the first time it has happened. Then there was the time that I nearly marinated the meat with Dawn, rather than Worcestershire sauce.

If only I still lived in an apartment with a small terrace and grill. I never had these issues when grilling. It ruled. You could throw steaks on the grill. Sit back and crank The Cure with a nice glass of wine or beer. Well, for the long-term future, that’s out of the question. So, I will either place all my electronic devices and chargers further away from my cooking equipment. Or hope that my Amazon or iPhone charger will power the air fryer, crockpot, or steamer. Dream on.