Another Hometown?

I used to really look forward to out of town trips. I didn't get to travel much as a child or adolescent, so in my 20s I leapt at opportunities to blow town. Get away from humidity and palm trees, the very thing so many others were seeking. I would go to places like Carrolton, GA or Ogunquit, ME for various reasons, always encountering disbelief from residents when I stated how refreshing it was to be out of FL. It's all about the weather. So much of this country shivers while we here in the tropic zone don short pants yet again, even as we're hanging candy canes on pine trees. I've seen the envy in their eyes, from coast to coast.

After years of out-of-towners, I reverted to being content with my home base. It is a beautiful place, and I am very fortunate, even on my knees in thanksgiving. These days, I'm reverting yet again. Years of oppressive heat and unpleasant people (not everyone, of course) has had me thinking outside our fair state's border, again. Somewhere with seasons, for starters. A place where perhaps the spirit of being neighborly is more prevelent. I'm just as guilty of being closed off, so I include myself in my chastisement. I've ducked in public places when not wanting to be recognized, even by dear friends! For shame.

On this very blog I've described the strong connections I've felt in certain cities: Atlanta, Denver, Minneapolis. Not just preferable climate but just a more generous, communal feel. South Florida, comparatively, is a very odd place. It seemed quite normal to me as I grew up, but I knew nothing else. I lived in NYC until I was 4, but otherwise, I'm a West Palm Beach native. Over the years, people would settle here and move away, illustrating how transitory this place is. Many would wonder aloud why people acted so strangely. The sense of entitlement, the neuroticism, the sociopathy. As I get older, I'm beginning to think that having summer all year 'round (more or less) has created some sort of warped perspective. You may well disagree, but having seasons creates some sort of well grounded order, a sense of when to do things, when to move on. Having favorable climate all year just murks it all up. That's my take.

So, my wife and I had occasion to travel to Ft. Wayne, Indiana, last weekend. The purpose: my wife's cousin was getting married. They are Indian, the bride's family residing in this NE Indiana town. I had no idea that such a population was so large there. Someone at the reception informed us that there were about 500 families of this culture in Ft. Wayne, and most knew each other and had regular weekend get-togethers. Ah..

The wedding was amazing, but we'll talk about that elsewhere. In between events, we walked through a nearly deserted downtown area. We arrived on a Friday afternoon. The high for that day? 39 degrees Farenheit! Maybe that's why we were mostly alone in our wanderings. It was apparently the first real cold of the fall; in fact, our shuttle driver informed us that some tiny flurries had been visible that very morning. Chili from a nearby Wendy's never tasted better.

Across the street from our Hilton was the Botanical Conservatory, an indoor/outdoor collection of gardens and artwork that provided a very pleasant Sunday afternoon. A talking oak tree greets you as you pass the kiddie area. One garden was lush with greenery and poinsettias; another was a replica of a Southwestern desert landscape, with children's artwork strewn amongst the cactii. Christmas music was playing in the first garden. A current exhibit also showcased several of the notable downtown structures. A very worthwhile way to spend an hour or so.

The day before we explored the Conservatory, we had stopped at its front desk to get some info. Jane was on duty, and what a panic she was. We asked her what the cost of living was in Ft. Wayne. "It's the cheapest place to live in the world," she exclaimed, citing a news source. She then unfolded a city map and proceeded to circle sections of town, explaining which areas were "old chic" and "new chic", where and what to avoid. She brought her finger down on a spot a bit north of the center where "some gays really beautified the neighborhood." But her best bit? After a lengthy rant on how poor the public school system is in Indiana (and the U.S.), she elucidated: "It's modeled on the German system. Kindergarten and all. It's designed to train kids to be good little prols!" Proletariats, I assume.

Our downtown wanderings also led us to a very old looking spot called Power's. We were gazing at a government building when some savory scents wafted towards us. Smelled like some good burgers were being cooked up. Once inside, you have yourself very tight quarters, with a wraparound counter, one booth, and a few other spots to chomp your burger by the front windows. Also, one of those old plastic Pepsi Cola boards with the slide-on letters announcing all the grub. Three haggard looking women commandeered the joint. I had a cheeseburger with extra onions. It was mighty good. I've learned that Power's has been in this very spot for many decades, and looks it. That's why it caught my eye.

Cindy's, another old-timely looking dining establishment, also caught my eye, but we didn't get there. We saw this after our trip through the Trinity English Lutheran Church on West Wayne Street, across from the library. The church is over 150 years old, the first English-speaking congregation in town (Trinity English was a branching out from the German-speaking St. Paul's Lutheran closeby). An usher led us through the main sanctuary, a gorgeous masonry filled with stained glass and pipe organ. The most interesting aspect of the architecture: additional wings were added onto the existing structure, without compromising any of the original fascade. Yes, you walk out of the old sanctuary into a newer room, the wall being comprised of stone and even the original gutters! You are standing in what was once a parking lot! I'd never seen anyone do this before.

What struck me on these chilly, nearly deserted walks was this sense of community, proximity. It has long been a goal of mine to have everything within walking distance: work, church, grocery store. I have almost achieved this in WPB these days. A few years back, it was quite different. I worked in Boca Raton, went to school in Ft. Lauderdale, church in Palm Beach Gardens, and lived in Greeancres! Ridiculous! You should've seen my fuel bills! For you non-locals, there're a lot of miles in there. I was in commuting hell most of the time. I'm what you call a non-fan of sprawl.

Ft. Wayne, at least its downtown area, struck me as a place where I could participate in a neighborhood, a real-life community. One of my earliest memories was living in Brooklyn, enjoying what was called a "block party." The entire block would come out, share food, hang out on the stoop, communicate. Not behind some swinging metal gate or wooden arm, either. That sounds pretty good to me.

Ft. Wayne also struck me as being a good place to have grown up. Being a Florida boy, I feel as if I missed out on a lot of things so many others had. Not just snowmen, either.