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Money doesn't buy happiness in Bronxville

My apologies for any Bronxville-ites who may be offended, this is absolutely a generalization.

Today, I had some change I wanted to cash in and I knew that there was a bank on Bronxville Road, right on the Bronxville/Yonkers border that had a change machine. I jumped in my car and headed south on White Plains Road over to main street. I headed down the hill around the funeral home onto Midland Ave. As I crossed over the threshold into Bronxville the scenery changed quite a bit. No moms or babysitters pushing baby carriages, no landscaping trucks or vans with ladders on them. Nope, we were in Bronxville. On the maybe half mile stretch from the corner of ICS to Bronxville High, I must have passed seven women, all above average in looks, and two men jogging. Mind you it was about 2:15, schools were getting out, it was well past lunch. So nine individuals, with nothing to do in the middle of the day, but jog. Nice life, I thought. As I approached the track, I saw another half dozen or so. Arms flapping as they got their daily cardio in. The scene changed quite abruptly as I got past Pondfield road and was greeted by Verizon workers and a hot dog truck. It was a like a brief oasis of carefree living wedged between the realities of life.

Another thing dawned on me. As I waited at the light, I saw a few people driving by, all in BMW's, Mercedes' or huge SUV's. All had one thing in common. A scowl. A look of absolute hatred of the world and all that was in it. Even the few people walking shared this look. Not a smile to be found. As I crossed into Yonkers I saw an old lady walking up a hill, using a stone wall to help pull herself closer to her destination. The people were less fashionable, but as I came closer to the Cross County overpass, I noticed a definite change in mood. Smiles or at least an impartial look covered the faces of everyone. As I pulled into the parking lot, two women joked about a sale at some store, I wish I had the money, was the punchline. I entered the bank to three smiling tellers, the change machine jammed and within seconds a woman was out to fix it and I returned to my business. As I left the bank I passed two more people, smiles abound. I stopped to let someone pass and a wave. As I pulled back into Bronxville, I stopped at a red light. No sooner had the light turned green, than the woman behind me in the Lexus SUV was on her horn, waving for me to go. Apparently, she thought she could make the turn before the oncoming traffic would catch her. I slowed down, just enough to make sure this didn't happen. I looked in the mirror to see an incensed woman screaming. Would she be miss the last sandwich at Lange's Deli? Would Sammy's Bistro close for the day? What could possibly be the rush that these extra 10 seconds had her so angry?

I rode back down Midland, a few jogger sitings added to the list and then headed down to Eastchester. Four town of Tuckahoe workers joking by the basketball courts. Down Marbledale to a few guys I know chatting outside a garage. Back up Fisher to three highschoolers outside Chubby's deli, enjoying a slice and some story-telling. I parked my car and thought about my travels. I just passed people who live in houses that cost more money than I have made in my entire life. They own cars that cost well over what I make in a year. Their biggest decision of the day is whether to jog down Midland or take their show to the school track. As I, sitting in my piece of shit car, wishing I was at work, wondering where I will come up with rent money or how to pay my credit cards I've been counting on for everything. I entered my tiny apartment, smiled, and resumed chatting with a friend online. How could it be that despite my woes, despite the hardships, my appearance never display the misery thes people showed. I guess in many ways it can, but I definitely believe that money, at least in Bronxville, can't buy you happiness.

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