Fellow surbanites, no matter your state or zip code, can probably relate on some level to the restraining life that comes from living amid the urban sprawl. Strange how one of the catalysts for the outward bound growth of cities was, during the booming postwar 1950s, seen as the ticket to freedom: the family automobile. Now many of us are held prisoner in our vehicles as we commute to and from work, or drive miles and miles to get anywhere but here.
Modern suburban neighborhoods are claustrophobic-inducing developments, where looking out your window involves looking into someone else's. Where searching frantically for a parking space is often followed by standing in a long line. Where green space has to be engineered so that the overdeveloped suburbs don't resemble an airport tarmac. Where trees have to be preserved and legally protected before falling to the overzealous profiteer's axe.
Urban visitors, and even those from overseas sometimes marvel at how much space there is here. There is a sense of open space, mostly relative I imagine. The sky is at least mostly blue and open across the mostly flat prairie. But it's closing up fast.
At least in my part of Texas, a few minutes in the right direction can land you just south of the middle of nowhere. It takes longer than it used to, but the trip is possible. The "country" is now just an extension of the city, crammed with homogenous, quickly built homes surrounded by postage-stamp yards with a chicken in every microwave and an SUV (or two) in every driveway. New strips of ubiquitous retail delight are replacing former farmland or beautiful expanses of nature that blissfully broke up the monotony. Now the monotony is growing, and when finished will be one long, 1,000-mile strip mall with the same nail salons, pizzarias and dentist's offices you passed about five minutes ago.
With the revitalization of many cities and particularly some of their crumbling, forgotten spaces, there's a reversing trend with well-to-do surbanites shelling out big bucks to trade their manicured lawns for bright, shiny contemporary loft apartments carved out of abandoned warehouses. The brownstone trend is moving west into the more affluent suburbs in Texas, tempering some of the strip-center circus with an east-coast sensibility and price tag.
Before I dig myself into a hopelessly philosophical hole (and some more incredibly long sentences), let me backtrack and say I like it here. Like a recent post, the suburbs can offer the best of both worlds: security of your own property, a sense of the country life if not the real thing, and then a hop into the exciting urban rhythms pulsing through a vibrant downtown. There is culture. There is education. There is some beauty, one that strains the beholder's eyes at times, but it's there. There is relaxation. When things get really bad, there's the airport and its winged promises of escape, albeit temporary. Or there's the gray ribbon of road travel reaching out its outstretched arms to jostle you from your commute and send you flying down the back roads to sights unseen.
For those of you living the urban life, if it suits you then soak it up. There is a freedom that comes from not needing to have a car, especially when it comes to parking it in a large city. Fuhgettabowtit. There is a well-established, somewhat reliable network of public transportation. There is the convenience of having services just a phone call or stroll away. There's the fast-paced life that lets you get things done. There are the people, oh so many people, that create a constant buzz that can't be silenced.
Maybe the only hope we surbanites have is to look up at the big, wide blue sky and let that free us. Until the light turns green, that is.
What you describe is just like what my home town and surrounding area was like. Of course, I come from a town of 450...hundred. That's it. Now the town has no population sign...so it's less. But, I loved it. It signifies peace. And you know what else I love about Illinois. The flatness...it provides a sense of freedom like nothing else.
I live in Portland, OR now, AKA the most over populated city in the country or so it seems to me, and I miss the flat. The windy curvy roads make me feel chlosterphobic for sure.
I'm with you all the way on this one ! :)
I live in the country. When I say country I mean my closest neighbors are about 3 miles up the road. I LOVE it. Every time I drive to the DFW metroplex I lose my friggin mind in the traffic. From where I stand, the suburbs are no different than the urban city these days.
But *sigh* there has been a lot of farms selling to city slickers that are moving out here these days. Boy do they build some mansions!!! :-)