In Praise of the Suburbs

It’s almost impossible to watch anything on television without hearing someone slamming the suburbs and those who choose to live in them. It’s like death and taxes in Hollywood that the suburbs are where people go to die. It is always painted as a monument to a boring, cookie-cutter existence. The only real, authentic place to live is in the heart of the city. If you don’t hear sirens every night, you have sold out. Ok. I don’t begrudge anyone for choosing a downtown life. Go for it. But let me offer a different take on the particular suburb where I live, Wythe Trace.

Pam and I have lived here for the past 24 years. When we moved in the place was still being built, our street was still gravel. We are the only people ever to live in our house. Over the years we have had neighbors come and go. As they have done so they have gotten…younger and much more diverse. Our neighborhood is like the United Nations. We have found that there is an advantage to staying put in one place. The younger this neighborhood gets the younger we feel. We are surrounded by couples in their 30’s and early 40’s, all with several children. This means when I turn the corner on my way home from work I have to drive slowly because there are always a bunch of kids playing in the street. It is wonderful. 

Here’s something that happened earlier this week that convinced me that Pam and I have made the right decision by sticking around. I was walking down my driveway to get the mail when one of my young neighbors drives by, slows down for a second to chat. She is the mother of an adorable little girl and a brand new baby boy. Making small talk, I mentioned that I had just come from the back yard where I had prepared the grill to cook some burgers only to discover that my propane tank was empty. She immediately offered to loan me their’s since it was full, she practically insisted. I told her to not bother, we could always cook them on the stove inside…it was no big deal. We wrapped up our friendly chat and I was on my way. Five minutes later she rings our doorbell carrying her propane tank—which she had carried from two doors down! I couldn’t believe it. Sure enough, I hooked it up and cooked our burgers. The next day I let myself into their back yard and put the tank on their deck.

In our little culdesac in suburbia—that vast conformist wasteland—there are a dozen kids ages infant to 16. Along with all those kids there are bikes, skateboards, scooters, lemonade stands, frisbees, basketballs, trampolines, eight slobbering dogs, and lots of shrieking arguments and high pitched laughter, all the while their frantic parents are trying desperately to keep up. In other words, its exactly what our life used to be like. It is so nice to watch them without any of the pressure of actually having to do it anymore. Let me tell you city-living elitist out there, these parents are killing it.

So, here’s one unapologetic vote for the suburbs.