Tag Archives: cities

In the City, Part 1:  Initiation

It’s not as hard as you might think, living in a city. You were blissful in the university town where you loved your studies and made many friends, but you were all kicked out en masse after you finished your degrees.

 You donned a smart dress, or a suit (it was the age of suits), flats instead of walking shoes, flew to a strange city, took a taxi, and finally ended up in a headmaster’s office for the interview.  We chatted about whatever popped into this charming man’s mind. (Hint: it wasn’t movies! He had never heard of Half Moon Street, Slapshot, or the screwball comedy classic, The More the Merrier.)  The assistant head plied me with tea in a china cup and saucer, and gave me two Pepperidge Farm cookies.  And then they hired me for the job. 

In this beautiful city, I went to art museums, saw Aristophanes’ The Birds at a theater, frequented a bookstore and record shop near my apartment and nerdily attended a lecture on Hesiod.

Anyway, my husband (then boyfriend) found a job in another city, where we could live more cheaply. After we got married by a Justice of the Peace – it was moving, because it was just us and the words – we drove the Ryder truck to our new home.

Having lived in cities for many years, my husband was pragmatic about the ups and downs.  At that time, the supermarkets were closed on Sunday. This was, indeed, a strange custom for a city.

 I took the optimistic view of life in this city.  “Well, it’s gray.  I like gray.  Do you suppose it’s like Seattle?”  My husband roared with laughter.  “Good one!” He may have thought I was joking…

And then I decided to get tough about it. “At least all the s___ is on the surface,”  I said daringly.

He put a wrestler’s hold on me before turning it into a hug.”Well, I would say there are sewers, too.”

Everything was perfect at first.  We loved our duplex,  were able to walk to the grocery store, and the lake was only a mile away.

And then the alley took on a new life.

Every night, night after night, people partied in the alley and took drugs.   I have trouble sleeping anyway, and the parties kept me awake. I got up one night while my husband slept to ask if they could take the party elsewhere.

I’ve always been a peaceful person. but there are limits. I started to cry as I made my request.

A thin, careworn man with dilated eyes muttered, “Sorry, dear.  You look like you could use some sleep.” They duly left their “camp” and went somewhere else. Whenever I saw him afterwards, we nodded Hello. One day, we sat together on the bus, and told each other our stories. He was an emergency room doctor. “It pays well and no one wants to work there.” And then he looked at my tired eyes. “I advise you to get more sleep.’

He was right. Sleep matters! My job was exhausting. I loved the work, but felt I did nothing but commute back and forth (two trains, a bus, and a brisk walk),. 

And things changed: I found other work that I loved. That is the key to happiness at certain stages of life, and I look back at that time fondly.

Safety’s Just Another Word…

The new neighbor from Rhode Island or New Hampshire – a two-name state anyway – gushes about the charms of our city. 

 “I love it here. It’s so quaint. And as long as I’ve got Target and Starbucks I’m okay,” she confesses.  “And It’s so safe here.  You have no idea what that means to us.”

Don’t I? “It is a nice neighborhood. And I love Target and Starbucks too.”  

I don’t address the safety issues.  Poor soul! It’s not Nirvana. But one thing we can all agree on is that we want to be safe.

There are degrees of safety in our neighborhood.  You don’t have to pack heat when you take a walk. (“Lay down your weapon NOW.” – Jack Bauer in 24, Brenda in The Closer)  Most of the neighborhood streets are safe, but pedestrians need to take a few detours.  

Stop and turn around in the middle of the block on X Street because those lively people in the church parking lot are drug dealers.  You say, I have a wild imagination. But in fact, I’m NOT wrong.  You intuit degrees of safety in a city, with all a city’s problems. 

Pedestrians beware! There is an extremely dangerous intersection at the corners of Audubon and Turkey Vulture Streets. A small parking lot on this corner has NO barriers, no curbs, NOTHING between the parking lot and the sidewalk. Some geniuses park right on the sidewalk!

I don’t mean it’s NOT safe here, but it has a city’s advantages and disadvantages. Grew up in a small town, then moved to another idyllic small town – in retrospect I wish I had stayed.  But it has been my fate to move to the city for the sake of work and family. That’s life in the 21st century.

The Age of Uprooting: Alienation, Cities, and High Tech

“However we dissect it, though, I believe that the heart of the crisis that is enveloping so much of the world today – cultural, ecological, and spiritual – is this ongoing process of mass uprooting.” – – Against the Machine:  On the Unmaking of Humanity by Paul Kingsnorth

In Paul Kingsnorth’s fascinating new book, Against the Machine:  On the Unmaking of Humanity, he writes about spiritual and emotional alienation in our age of high tech, climate change, and capitalism.  He believes “the Machine” is destroying humanity through increased state control, the growth of cities, the rise of AI, the internet and cell phones.

Kingsnorth talks about “roots,” often literally, in terms of his relationship to the land.  He tells a charming story about planting a field of wildflowers in Ireland and waking up the next day to find the birds had eaten all the seeds. (He is philosophical: farmers can’t control nature.) One day he tires of mowing with a scythe (a scythe! Good God!), and discovers that the hardware store now sells robotic lawnmowers.

Kingsnorth fascinates but he sometimes irritates.  “He’s not wrong,” I’d mutter to myself. “But there are other points of view.”

For instance, he rants against cities.  He lives with his family in the west of Ireland, and thinks it would be better if we all lived in villages, or small towns, or the country, closer to nature, which is good for human nature.

Well, I’m not much of a gardener, but I am a city-dweller by choice.  I was taught that living in a city is ecologically sound, especially if you live in a proper city, where you can take mass transit, walk, or bicycle, drive less or not at all, and pollute the air less.  It is the “uprooting,” the flight to the suburbs and the ex-urbs, that “drives” air pollution. (Driving cars and other light vehicles accounts for about 28% of the emission of greenhouse gases, according to the EPA.)

But, as Kingsnorth says, roots are important.

It took me years to put down roots. For years I felt my roots were still in my charming hometown. It was almost magical, its streets lined with elm trees, and a neighborhood grocery store on every corner. Alas, in the late ’70s many historical buildings were razed in the name of “urban renewal.”

Urban renewal was expensive:  it cost the town a department store, Woolworth’s and many shops and restaurants.  The town’s best bookstore went out of business because the owners could not afford the high rent of the prefab temporary building where they were relocated. And urban sprawl accelerated after urban renewal.  The new pedestrian mall became a bar-and-restaurant district.   People deserted downtown and went to the malls.

 Well, I have been a city dweller for most of my life. One city was old and beautiful, and had a lot of culture, but it was too expensive; another had some culture but was “visually challenging”:  flat, grim, polluted, gray, cold, and, to be brutally honest, ugly. We put down roots in one neighborhood, but, alas, it “went down,” as they say, rapidly, all of a sudden.  ALL THE NEIGHBORHOOD SHOPS CLOSED. And all of us moved out of our apartment house.  The turning point was the day we had to step over the drunken, passed-out john of our new neighbor, a prostitute with a thriving business,

Now we live in a very pretty city, which has a (partially) viable downtown, lots of trees, a few charming bookshops, independent theaters, rivers, lakes, and parks. I wouldn’t have thought of it without the prodding of Kingsnorth’s book, but I do have roots.  I’m no longer “unrooted.”

By the way, Kingsnorth’s book also deals with religion (a former Wiccan, he is now a Christian), our emotional alienation, and the history of mass culture.  His political roots are in the green movement, which he says has lost integrity.  (He explains this in detail.)

And, fascinatingly, he is also a novelist and poet:  his novel The Wake was longlisted for the Booker Prize.

So here’s to being rooted!