I don't do much cross-country traveling. Everywhere in this country is pretty much the same as everywhere else in this country, as far as my observations have gone (malls, strip malls, fast-food joints, suburbs, interstates, eight-lane highways, the same movies in identical theaters, the same TV networks, the same motels and city parks, etc., etc.)... Until gas prices got too high, I did take lots of regional road trips to visit with family and friends -- or just to say I did it (Nebraska, South Dakota, Wyoming, Montana, and, on rare occasions, Colorado).
Kathleen replied:
You have to get off the major arteries of a city to find the things that aren't like every other city. I fear that franchises are killing the things that make each city unique.I decided to reply to her final reply with this full-fledged blog entry:
There's Really Not That Much Variety
I agree completely with the franchise comment, so I shall let that go. As for this nation's major arteries, avoiding them is my favorite part of traveling (whether in the city or in the country). I enjoy sightseeing in the original business districts of any city or town (unless it has become the bad part of town; sorry, Kathleen). I love comparing what was once there to what is now there. However, even when I "find the things" in one city "that aren't like every other city," I realize those differences are only cosmetic. Underneath those historic exteriors, the vast majority of American public life is still geared toward the buying and selling of "stuff," or staring at trendy museum displays, or attending the same old "artistic" functions (in whatever format they are presented), or going to sporting events, or going to the same old bars and restaurants. Those are the only real choices in most American cities. Some people (obviously not all people) can indulge in those pastimes for only so long before they grow tired of them. After about fifteen years of endless indulgence in most of those pastimes, I finally became completely sick of them. In spite of that, I continued to go through the motions for several more years.
Why?
Because what else is there to do?
Question
When one grows sick of doing the same old "window shopping" and other "cultural pastimes," no matter how affordable, or exciting, or "avant garde" or inspirational they may be, what is one to do? Should I see a psychiatrist because I no longer like doing the same few things that most other people like to do? If so, then one must first assume that most people have it right, while I have it wrong. I'm not ready to do that yet.
I'll Try to Lighten Up
I didn't write this entry to be completely negative, though. All hope is not lost (yet). I believe there are still two "pastimes" in this country that are worth "an effort": Nature and friends.
Nature
Nature is a major exception to the lack-of-variety rule in the United States. There are very few countries on earth with such an incredibly wide variety of awe-inspiring landscapes, from the melodramatic (the Grand Canyon, for instance) to the very subtle (the Bad River valley of South Dakota, for instance).
As inspiring as landscapes are, though, they are not really a lot of fun to visit alone after the first two or three times. In my opinion, such experiences are meant to be shared.
Friends
I always judge any place I go by the friendliness of the people who live there. My family moved to this location when I was 15. The residents here were (are) generally distant and unfriendly toward newcomers / strangers. My negative reception at such an impressionable age had a profound and lasting effect on me (I wouldn't be writing this blog entry three decades later -- almost to the exact month -- if it weren't true).
Let's say there is a city in the United States that offers a wide variety of retail, entertainment and cultural opportunities. A resident of said city could conceivably remain active almost all the time. If most of the inhabitants of that city are unfriendly, I, for one, couldn't care less how many fun pastimes there are, because I would be very lonely living there. On the other hand, try to imagine, if you can, a town in which there is almost nothing to do except stay home or go to the local "bar and grill" and count the number of tumbleweeds that roll down main street past the bar's picture window -- yet the people are as friendly as one could imagine, and have formed a close-knit, all-inclusive society. I would gladly spend the rest of my life there, if I had a tolerable job at which to earn a respectable living.
In Conclusion
One of my favorite quotes comes from the TV series China Beach (1988-1991). In one episode, Nurse Laurette Barber has reached the end of her tour of duty in Vietnam. She is scheduled to return to the United States. At the last minute, she astounds the other nurses and doctors (her best friends) by deciding to stay. When asked why she has chosen to stay in that hell hole instead of going home, she gives her definition of the concept of home: "Home isn't a place. It's anywhere the people like you, and you love 'em back."
That's what I'm trying to say.
