Mr. Gaelic sure knows how to rub it in. He's on a business trip to New York City and emailed me a picture he took from his hotel window. It's overlooking Times Square. Dammit all! Why am I not living in New York?
Many years ago at a parish retreat, there was an ice-breaker exercise. Using the entire ballroom as an imaginary map of the United States with one corner being Maine, another Florida, and so on, the priest told us to go stand, without talking to anyone except to question where they were, in the location that we would want to live if money were no object. I made my way up the east coast inquiring of people, "Where are you?"
"Newport, Rhode Island." "The eastern shore of Maryland." "Cape May, New Jersey." I finally placed myself where New York City would be and looked up to see Mr. Gaelic standing close by.
"Where are you?" I asked.
"New York. Where are you?"
Without conferring, we had both ended up at the same place.