Wherever I travel I try to discover how the region truly plays-out their lives: how they work, what are they proud of, in what are they housed, what are the community routines, what do they eat, where are the bars?
You get my point.
When I was a child, the lines between the three divisions of ‘lifestyles’: Urban, Suburban,
Rural Country, were very clear.
Sooty, crowded, vibrant, anything-might-happen, Saks Fifth Avenue CITY verses tar & chip, 1/2 acre plots, cookie-cutter post WWII housing SUBURBAN verses clean air, wheat fields, dirt roads, Biker bar COUNTRY.
Very easy. Life was d-e-l-i-n-e-a-t-e-d.
The COUNTRY fed the SUBURBAN and CITY.
The SUBURBAN supplied the workforce for the CITY.
And the CITY was where you went to go Christmas shopping, and cheat on your wife.
Living was clear to me.
As a child of the SUBURBS I moved easily between my neighbors to each side, having a true knack for milking cows while draped in my mother’s fur coat.
Let’s just say I was always ready for whatever the day brought.
And the other day (while cruising Columbus, Ohio, assisting the Princess on her search for
affordable appropriate housing as she enters Veterinary School at Ohio State), I was ready to delight in the fusion of disparate cultures that is now the norm: Move over boring, super-sized, asphalt gorged, crumbling, sliced bread, my-way-or-the-highway communities. There’s more RURAL goodness in the CITY then there’s ever been…
And Suburbs suck.