For as long as I’ve kept this blog, I’ve tried to find some positive way to put a bow on the milestones of my life, including the end of the year.
I have tried my hardest to look back over this year and find some unifying narrative of hope, of growth, of betterment in my life or the world around me.
I haven’t been able to find it.
2017 has been far more struggling with the dark than it has been responding to the light.
In the fleeting memories of my childhood, there’s one moment that strikes me as weirdly formative.
It was a family reunion on my Dad’s side; I was maybe 12 years old. The collective – my parents, my Dad’s four siblings and their spouses, and an excessive number of my cousins – were grabbing breakfast at some forgettable restaurant.
As the meal ended, the adults got into a heated argument over who was going to pay the bill. There was a weird source of pride among the family about grabbing the bill, with an outright refusal to let anyone split it, to the point where it would nearly turn into a fist fight. Cards were drawn, cash was readied, fingers were pointed demanding others stand down. It was equal parts tense and hilarious.
The server came by, and someone asked for the check. And then, the punchline: my 80 year old grandmother had gotten up at the beginning of the meal and slipped the server her card, trumping everyone else.
If behavior has to be inherited from your family, there are worse ones to pick up than wanting to grab the check. As I rolled into adulthood, this became the ongoing game with my parents, for both me and Katie. She once proudly blindsided my parents by grabbing the bill in the same way as my grandmother – forever after referred to as “pulling a Dickinson”.
This method has also proven somewhat useful when I’m out with friends, as years of being the Designated Bill Splitter when out in large groups has made me despise the practice. It’s easier/nicer to just pick up everything and tell everyone not to worry about it. (This goes doubly when I’ve picked the spot we’re hanging at, as sometimes my picks are not the most wallet conscious.)
There’s a roadblock, though: I’m not the only one who tries to do this. For the segment of my friends that want to do the same, or take offense at being told that everything’s cool, it can be considered an dick move. And so we start getting into battles about who’s grabbing the next check, or trying to keep a running total in the name of balance – and that sucks too.
So after some consideration and refinement, I’ve come up with what I will dub The Dickinson Bill Method 2.0. It greatly simplifies settling the bill, allows for acceptable contributions from those who want to contribute, and leaves everyone feeling reasonably good.
Life’s too short to fight with your friends over money.
The Dickinson Method 2.0
One member of the party will pick up the bill, in full, including tip. We will refer to this person as the Payer.
Other members of the party (The Party) are told that while the bill has been covered, they can contribute what they feel comfortable giving and/or what they think they owe to the Payer.
Members of the Party are not allowed to look at the bill, either in sum or in detail, to try and crunch an exact amount they owe. Contributions must be made off gut feeling.
Because contributions are optional and made off of gut feeling, the Payer may not indicate that a contribution is “too low” or “too high”. No grudges may be held by any person over the size of a contribution.
Contributions can be made by whatever method is acceptable to the Payer. If using cash, $1 bills may not be exchanged. (No one wants a wallet full of singles.)
If the outing consists of multiple locations with multiple bills, the same Payer should pay for all stops, with contributions being made when the last bill for the outing arrives.
This is the latest in the continuing series of me saying goodbye to things I love.
Gothamist has been shut down. (DNAInfo, too.) You can read the statement or the NYT coverage. I’ve had a day to digest and I am still having trouble identifying a singular emotion. So instead, some free-form reflection:
There was no website more crucial to assimilating as a newcomer into NYC than Gothamist. It helped me feel like I understood the city in a way other news rarely did. (I actually tried reading the Times on the subway some mornings right after I moved here. The paper version. That didn’t help.)
Gothamist had a soul, an energy, and its own real voice. That was the amalgamation of a lot of really talented, really funny writers who connected in a shared love (and sometimes hate) of NYC. I was lucky to read their work, and luckier still to get to work with some of them.
Gothamist was a success story of “the blogging era”: a site that gradually grew from hobby to blog to major thing to outlet to longform news site. It lasted fifteen years, an eternity in Internet time.
Gothamist was how, either directly or indirectly, I made my longest lasting friends in NYC. Countless people I identify as friends have a traceable lineage through Gothamist. Many I met at social functions the site held. Two of my closest friendships are directly through my work with the site.
Gothamist was how I became a soccer journalist and why so many people care what I have to say about the sport, even two years after giving up. Without that platform, without that freedom, you wouldn’t have heard my voice. But the loss of the outlet that I wrote for feels less significant than the loss of the thing I relied on to navigate this crazy city.
Gothamist changed my life, was a part of my identity, and I ache now that it’s gone.
Every meeting between friends must end with a parting, and so, my friends, today we take our leave. This is life. None of us profits from ignoring or hiding from the facts, so why should we bother? Life is what it is, a gift that is given to us for a time – like a library book – that must eventually be returned. How should we treat this book? If we are able to remember that it is not ours to begin with – one that we’re entrusted with, to care for, to study and learn from – perhaps it would change the way we treat it while it’s in our possession. How do you treat a precious gift from a dear friend? This is a good question to ask, and today is a good time to ask it.