I eschew suburbia. The more I think of it, the less I find of it that is redeeming. Unless it is pulsing, breathing, teeming with people it should not be considered a viable option for community.
People who hear me say this think that I live in the city. I do not. Some of those who actually know where I live have considered my surroundings to be quite urban. I'm less inclined to disagree with them and more apt to remind them that the concentration that exists in my environment is a result of urban spread, the aftereffect of suburban sprawl. I'd like to move closer to the heart of the city when location, resources and logistics permit.
I grew up in the country. Coming from the town (pop. <500) limits, my house was the first house on the left side of the road. This confused city folk because my house was more than a mile from that intersection. It was also shaded by tall trees and brush, making it not immediately noticeable. I spent my days riding my bike in circles around our yard, reading on a blanket under the trees, making hideouts under the back porch. I loved my environment but longed for human interaction. When the opportunity came, I moved toward the city. I met friends and neighbors, but still lived within a quiet community that largely kept to itself.
In 2004, Fru and I relocated to South Korea. For the first time, I came to know what city living meant. It meant close quarters, with overlap between private, public and shared space. It meant required--not optional--interaction with people I crossed; dealing with compatibilities and incompatibilities that had nowhere to go but right out in the open. It meant activities every weekend, every weeknight. And, thanks to certain measures made (albeit in an ethically questionable manner), the beauty of my childhood was never far away. In many cases that farmland/woodland area could be reached even by public transport.
A few days in Tokyo brought an epiphany in the form of urban nature--the outside that could be brought inside, the fusion of nature and society. I was entranced by the beauty and flow that seemed to blend what in my mind had been competing entities into a harmonious tapestry.
Returning to the US, in this respect, has been nothing but suffering. I live in a place that people call "city" but is miles from the city center and train station, has mediocre bus access (about eight routes within a 1/2-mile radius but only coming every 30 minutes at best) and minimal pedestrian attention. Privatized transportation companies and airports are convenient to the city center but not to the individual; the whole society is built around the car--not people.
On a weeknight, it's rare to see a spontaneous activity. And rightly so; it would require leaving your house, getting in your car, traversing the highway just to see a face. In contrast, an evening activity required a bus or train jaunt to the city center at worst; in many cases it merely required a five-minute walk down the street.
I think that people have forgotten about people. We live in our big suburban quarters (which are compartmentalized by personalized rooms where we can "express our individuality), not even knowing our neighbors, driving individually to work with our iPods plugged to the stereo, sit in cubicles all day, eat lunch at a chain restaurant that makes the dish the same way, everyday, no matter which location we order from. Our children, and especially teens, have no afterschool outlets for developing social interaction skills except an occasional community playground and or local strip mall/shopping center, provided they can find a ride there. We have separated ourselves to a point that the differences in siblings seem diverse. We have no world view because, in truth, we live in our own worlds.
If I injure my ankle, I will feel discomfort when using it. But if I avoid using it because of the discomfort, eventually it will just get weaker and weaker until it no longer is useful at all. The muscles will atrophy and its effectiveness will vanish. In comparison, there are many societal ills that are more than just discomforting. To date, our solution has been to run away to a more conducive environment. Suburbia is the attempt to make a new better place rather than to improve the existing. It is a way to avoid uncomfortable choices that we need to face. I don't know about you, but any choices that I have purposely avoided have never left me feeling anything but cowardly.
People need to understand that there are ramifications to their choices. Consequences that impact not just the environment but also their own families, their own perspectives. Maybe they won't end up sharing my hatred for the suburbs (I'm currently wrestling with the potential that lies in planned suburban communities), but they can help to develop a remedy for the maladies our current plan is causing.
