Re-Org

In which we make room for an oak tree

We peered down into a cardboard box, balanced gently on a small ledge, containing some musty books and a broken tennis racket.

“I don’t need stuff from a stranger’s dank BASEMENT.” 

The two of us were strolling in Park Slope, where it’s common to find unwanted items set out on stoops, free for the taking. An immediate rejoinder came from within the darkness behind the cracked window at our feet; a curmudgeonly voice bellowed: “It’s the GARDEN LEVEL, asshole.”

The duality of man (on the garden level)

Ah, yes, in New York City, it’s called the  “garden level.” Most everywhere else, it’s a “basement.” We’re lucky to have a sprawling one in the home we share with our 10-month-old son. It’s a single cavernous space with several distinct zones: our offices, a music studio, crafting table, workout space, a guest bed, a sitting area with the only television in the house.

There’s an old Manhattan Mini-Storage billboard that has stuck in Amrita’s mind: “Raising a baby in a NYC apartment is like growing an oak tree in a thimble.” We are lucky to have a rather oversized thimble here in Flatbush, but there are only enough bedrooms for the two adults. The baby moves between rooms during daytime naps and sleeps the night in a nook that blocks access to the coat closet.

Proof, from 2014! Credit: Paul Sableman, CC BY 2.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0>, via Wikimedia Commons

And so, the time has come to put the baby in the basement! Which is to say: we must carve out yet another space. On a recent rainy Saturday afternoon, we resigned ourselves to this task; playing 3D tetris, shoving furniture across cold basement tiles.

What makes sense? What is the sensible thing to do? 

Like the sensible people that we are, we first thought, let’s make sure our offices are set up for maximal productivity. Less distraction, more deep focus. This idea was discarded immediately. A cloistered desk area takes up too big of a footprint, monopolizing precious corner space. And for what? “Productivity?” With a flare of Marxist righteousness, this idea dies.

What if we try to make the guest area into more of a proper bedroom? 

Hmm. Okay, but then the piano is just kind of floating in the middle of the room.

The living room could move to the back! 

We agree that the back area is prime real estate. But then the TV is centered on the back wall and becomes the focal point of the entire basement…we’re not those people. We barely use the TV communally at all.

And so…

We twist and turn the pieces but they won’t fit. We huff and puff. Andrew makes a snack. Amrita sketches out a poorly proportioned floorplan on scrap paper. Our son dutifully crawls the room, collecting every bit of newly uncovered dust and dirt on the little knees of his dinosaur-print pants. 

Then, a spark. Andrew says: you think the back wall would make a nice stage? There’s a thought. There’s a natural ledge for the fog machine right there. We sit up straighter. The mic stands frame the back windows nicely, right? The harmonium can sit over here, without anyone drunkenly tripping on it anymore. So, the premium real estate goes into expanding our music space — now, it seems, into more of a performance space.

From there everything clicks. Let’s face the piano sideways, so that the pianist’s back isn’t to the audience. Of course. Do we need this stool back here? Obviously! Where else is the bass player going to sit? Cool. Can you help me grab this dulcimer? Our son watches bemusedly.

We step back to admire our efforts before slowly turning around to survey the rest of the space. Our frequent (and beloved!) guests must now sleep wedged between Andrew’s desk and a sewing machine. Amrita’s office floats in the middle of the room, facing the bathroom. And the baby, of course, gets a cozy little nook under the stairs, a sweet little Boy Who Lived.

Common wisdom dictates: in order to make space in your life for a baby, you have to shrink the other things that take up space. Parental self-denial is the name of the game. MAKE ROOM FOR THE OAK TREE. LOSE YOURSELF. We won’t say there haven’t been things to rearrange, bits and pieces to consolidate. Things to push around, decenter. But the happiest thimble for three is one with room for everyone’s joy. In our case, that comes in the very tangible form of: an amp, a billowing fog machine, and a live band that’s right in the pocket. 🤘🏾🎤

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Musical note: our weekly radio show, Assisted Living, was on re-runs this week as we attended a friend’s wedding. In lieu of a brand-new radio show playlist, we will offer our tips and tricks for designing the PERFECT wedding reception playlist, sans DJ:

1. Do not rely on shuffle. Shuffle will re-start and repeat whenever you stop the playlist. Song transitions will whiplash from Smokey Robinson to Busta Rhymes. This must be a playlist that goes in order.

2. Use time chronology as the spine. Songs from the 50’s or 60’s go at the beginning, when the great-aunties still have a pep in their step for the dance floor. Ease into the 70’s-90’s for when the party is humming. Move through the decades as older folks peel off for the night progressively. Leave the sweaty stuff for the end of the night when only the bridal party is still kicking. Plastered, but kicking. Bing bang boom

3. Incorporate requests from the couple, even if disparate. Bride needs global beats? Groom loves The Eagles & Billy Joel? No problem

4. If it’s just an after-party playlist? Same principle, faster progression thru the decades.