Sold on North Street

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359 North Street, sold for $5.525 million. Built in 1903, it sold in 1999 for $4.9, and had been on the market since at least February 2019, when it started at $7.495. our historian readers can fill in the details and correct me, but I believe this was one of the homes built for “the three-sisters”— one right next door, the other up the road on the corner of Dingletown and North. The Dingletown home met the dumpster a few years ago, but the other is still standing, and looking grand.

Riverside Contract

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I’d meant to mention last week that Helen Maher’s listing at 40 Willowmere Circle, $3.850 million, went to contract after 59 DOM. Not, perhaps, my favorite house on the street, but Willowmere Circle is, to my mind, the Lucas Point of Riverside; good neighbors, (small) beach and a strong sense of community. And like Old Greenwich’s Lucas Point, people tend to come and stay, for decades. That’s a good sign.

Pending in Belle Haven (okay, on the Belle Haven Peninsula)

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6 acres, waterfront, lots of lawn; who needs more?

Sally Maloney, my favorite realtor and person in Greenwich (shhh! Don’t tell Gideon, and for God’s sake, don’t break the news to Barbieri!) has had 23 Smith Road on the market for two years now, when it began at the aspirational price of $39.5 million. It’s currently priced at a more manageable $29.9 million, and today she’s reported it as pending. Nice job, friend..

And a sale on Old MilI

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137 Old Mill, sold for $4.225 million. The listing expired a year ago January, 2020 at $3.9, and was brought back this past November at $4.8; this time, it found a buyer in just 30 days.

So that’s a good sign of market strength, but sellers, keep it realistic: this house was first listed for $11.5 million in 2015, and sat, forever. Buyers are certainly out there, but they’re not crazy.

Contract on Old Mill

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15 Old Mill, asking $3.750 million. The owners paid $4.1 for it in 1999, and have had it on the market since 2018, when they began at $4.795. (Part of it) dates back to 1715, and the market for antique homes in Greenwich has never been awfully strong; I’ve never figured that out — why do Fairfield and Westport buyers like old houses, while (many) Greenwich buyers shun them? Beats me.

Sorry, but it's war

Harvard vomit

Harvard vomit

The Left hates us — I’m happy to return their contempt

The LA Times: What do we do about the Trumpites next door?

Oh, heck no. The Trumpites next door to our pandemic getaway, who seem as devoted to the ex-president as you can get without being Q fans, just plowed our driveway without being asked and did a great job. 

How am I going to resist demands for unity in the face of this act of aggressive niceness?

Of course, on some level, I realize I owe them thanks — and, man, it really looks like the guy back-dragged the driveway like a pro — but how much thanks?

These neighbors are staunch partisans of blue lives, and there aren't a lot of anything other than white lives in neighborhood.

This is also kind of weird. Back in the city, people don’t sweep other people’s walkways for nothing.

[Because people in real, authentic neighborhoods help each other without demanding political solidarity, or even — here’s a shock — considering racial or gender/sexual preference, or economic status; we’re not your Brooklyn Heights, dear, though I’m happy to impose your own standards on Great White Invaders like you]

When someone helps you when you’re down, or snowed in, it’s almost impossible to regard them as a blight on the world. In fact, you’re more likely to be overwhelmed with gratitude and convinced of the person’s inherent goodness.

[Omitted obligatory paragraphs about Nazis here — Ed.]

What do we do about the Trumpites around us? Like Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (D-N.Y.), who spoke eloquently this week about her terrifying experience during the insurrection at the Capitol on Jan. 6, Americans are expected to forgive and forget before we’ve even stitched up our wounds. Or gotten our vaccines against the pandemic that former President Trump utterly failed to mitigate.

My neighbors supported a man who showed near-murderous contempt for the majority of Americans. They kept him in business with their support.

But the plowing.

On Jan. 6, after the insurrection, Sen. Ben Sasse (R-Neb.) issued an aw-shucks plea for all Americans to love their neighbors. The United States, he said, “isn’t Hatfields and McCoys, this blood feud forever.” And, he added, “You can’t hate someone who shovels your driveway.”

At the time, I seethed; the Capitol had just been desecrated. But maybe my neighbor heard Sasse and was determined to make a bid for reconciliation.

So here’s my response to my plowed driveway, for now. Politely, but not profusely, I’ll acknowledge the Sassian move. With a wave and a thanks, a minimal start on building back trust. I’m not ready to knock on the door with a covered dish yet.

I also can’t give my neighbors absolution; it’s not mine to give. Free driveway work, as nice as it is, is just not the same currency as justice and truth. To pretend it is would be to lie, and they probably aren’t looking for absolution anyway.

But I can offer a standing invitation to make amends. Not with a snowplow but by recognizing the truth about the Trump administration and, more important, by working for justice for all those whom the administration harmed. Only when we work shoulder to shoulder to repair the damage of the last four years will we even begin to dig out of this storm.

Rich, white, privileged liberal flees her urban home for the sanctuary of her mountain resort, but despises the people there. Well, honey, we return the feeling. You demand that we acknowledge our sins before you’ll readmit us into your society. We won’t do that, and don’t want your company; in fact, you’re the perfect target for a service boycott; change your own damn tire.*

UPDATE: A commentator at Instapundit has picked up this story. More effective writing can be found there. (Though I prefer my venom)


* Reference to a kinder, gentler time 50 years ago, when Merle Haggard could write “Okie from Muskogee”, and a long-hair from San Francisco could pen a loving response. Here’s that writer, Nick Gravenites (Big Brother and the Holding Company), and Kris Kristofferson, and Merle himself, singing away. Different times.