a sad little city
For a long while I've wanted to post about the city where I currently live, and have lived for close to a year and a half now. I'd really like this post to include pictures, but I've not taken any myself yet, so unless I can find some web images, that part will have to wait for later.
For the sake of some preservation of anonymity, I'm not going to name this city. So if you don't know me in real life, for the sake of description, this is a small midwestern city that has seen better times. I had never lived anywhere like this before. First, as a Navy brat, growing up we never lived anywhere less than a fifteen minute drive from the ocean. And for the past 16 or so years, I lived only in major urban areas: San Francisco, New York, LA.
I was determined to look for the best here and to not make assumptions that I wouldn't like it. So I felt a little like crying when I would meet people here (locals) who would say to me: "Oh, you just moved here? I'm so sorry."
There are good things about this city: a wonderful park system, a great farmer's market, people who are much, much friendlier than in the big coastal cities where I've lived. I have to say I've gained a lot of affection for this little city, it's been good to me in many ways. I've found good friends, and my son was brought into the world the best way possible.
But it's a sad little city that has seen better days. I don't mean sad as in pathetic, I mean as in: I feel sad for it. This city boomed with the auto industry and before, but since we've moved here, there have been even more plant closings. So you can imagine - the economy continues to be decimated.
I had this false image, before I moved here, that all the old auto towns would just be bleak, ugly, flat. But this is not true. The inner parts of this city have some of the most beautiful urban areas I have ever seen. (This is where the pictures should come in.) There are blocks and blocks of old houses that take my breath away. Tree lined streets with all the fall colors. Yet the city keeps emptying out. There is a tiny movement towards revitalization, but it's swimming upstream. These beautiful blocks are dotted with boarded up houses. The city schools are said to be some of the worst in the nation. Meanwhile, the outer ring suburbs keep building up and up and out, mcmansion after mcmansion after strip mall after big box store, and the suburban part of the city becomes increasingly sprawling and de-centralized.
So it's an economic thing (plant closings) and a cultural thing. The cultural piece is the apparent coveting of the sprawl and the supposed ease of suburban living (although myself, I find it much more of a pain in the ass to climb in and out of a car all the time). And there is the fear and mythology built up around the urban parts, stemming from a lot of racism and classism, that makes revitalization slow if at all possible. It's a wasted potential, in my mind, and sometimes I feel quite infuriated by the building out and out and out while this beautiful historic core is laid to waste. Unfortunately, from what I read, this sad little dying city is not alone.
For the sake of some preservation of anonymity, I'm not going to name this city. So if you don't know me in real life, for the sake of description, this is a small midwestern city that has seen better times. I had never lived anywhere like this before. First, as a Navy brat, growing up we never lived anywhere less than a fifteen minute drive from the ocean. And for the past 16 or so years, I lived only in major urban areas: San Francisco, New York, LA.
I was determined to look for the best here and to not make assumptions that I wouldn't like it. So I felt a little like crying when I would meet people here (locals) who would say to me: "Oh, you just moved here? I'm so sorry."
There are good things about this city: a wonderful park system, a great farmer's market, people who are much, much friendlier than in the big coastal cities where I've lived. I have to say I've gained a lot of affection for this little city, it's been good to me in many ways. I've found good friends, and my son was brought into the world the best way possible.
But it's a sad little city that has seen better days. I don't mean sad as in pathetic, I mean as in: I feel sad for it. This city boomed with the auto industry and before, but since we've moved here, there have been even more plant closings. So you can imagine - the economy continues to be decimated.
I had this false image, before I moved here, that all the old auto towns would just be bleak, ugly, flat. But this is not true. The inner parts of this city have some of the most beautiful urban areas I have ever seen. (This is where the pictures should come in.) There are blocks and blocks of old houses that take my breath away. Tree lined streets with all the fall colors. Yet the city keeps emptying out. There is a tiny movement towards revitalization, but it's swimming upstream. These beautiful blocks are dotted with boarded up houses. The city schools are said to be some of the worst in the nation. Meanwhile, the outer ring suburbs keep building up and up and out, mcmansion after mcmansion after strip mall after big box store, and the suburban part of the city becomes increasingly sprawling and de-centralized.
So it's an economic thing (plant closings) and a cultural thing. The cultural piece is the apparent coveting of the sprawl and the supposed ease of suburban living (although myself, I find it much more of a pain in the ass to climb in and out of a car all the time). And there is the fear and mythology built up around the urban parts, stemming from a lot of racism and classism, that makes revitalization slow if at all possible. It's a wasted potential, in my mind, and sometimes I feel quite infuriated by the building out and out and out while this beautiful historic core is laid to waste. Unfortunately, from what I read, this sad little dying city is not alone.
posted by Melissa at 3:30 PM
1 Comments:
That IS sad. I've felt that way about towns before, so I know exactly what you mean.
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