Big City, Small Town

I’ve spent most of my life living in big cities, but am transitioning into a small town for the first time. I was born in Houston, Texas, population nearing 6 million in 2010 [about 2 million when I was born there]. That’s just the county I grew up in. I’m about to move to a state where the whole population is just over 1 million, and the town we’re living in has less than 20,000. 

This is going to be a big shift.

I’ve had about a year and a half to prepare myself for this change. I’ve had lots of different thoughts coursing through my mind. Having spent several years expecting to spend my life in urban areas, there was the initial freak out. But once we really decided to make this commitment, I also started fantasizing about some of the more romantic aspects of small town life.

Not living in a big city, I know from past experience that I will actually miss freeways, skyscrapers, the white noise of traffic/trains/rapid transit/buses.

I am looking forward to being able to walk most places in town, being surrounded by old New England architecture, and nature making more noise than machines.

I think I might miss the freedom of anonymity, but love the familiarity of acquaintance.

I’ll miss the bustle and buzz of a big city, but look forward to simplicity and peace of a small town.

I will miss the breadth of dining and entertainment options. But I also look forward to actually being able to know every restaurant in town and not have a list hanging over my head of places I need to try. 

I will miss having so many choices for everything (shopping, schools, parks, grocery stores). I will love having less decisions to worry over.

I’m going to miss the ethnic diversity and internationality of big cities, but look forward to seeing more economic diversity amongst neighbors. 

We’ve been thinking lately about how both in inner cities and suburban neighborhoods, most people have to “get out” in order to work at good jobs. It creates this spatial disconnect between family and work. While I can see some advantages to having these things separated, I am looking forward to our children growing up in the same space where all the adults in their lives work. They’ll be able to see their parents’ offices and colleagues and get a sense for what having a career looks like on a more intimate level than maybe just a once/year “take your kid to work day.” 

Help me out, Lobsters. What are some of the other pros/cons of big cities and small towns? Here's one guy's research-based thoughts. What am I forgetting to miss and what do I not know to look forward to? What are some of the cons of small town life I should be preparing myself for?

Homesick

When I face big transitions – graduating from college, getting married, having a baby, moving – I get homesick. With a baby in my arms and being in the midst of packing for yet another move, the sickness is creeping back in. but I’m not sure where to be homesick for this time.

Home has been Houston, Texas; Santa Barbara, California; Berkeley, California; and it’s about to be in Maine. 


My parents transformed my first home from a one bedroom red-brown bungalow in a city smaller than 10 blocks into an incredible, cozy house for a family of four. That house has been torn down. My happy place used to be my grandfather’s ranch in Conroe, “Little Creek Hollow,” which was an adorable little farm house with a fireplace and a loft with a tiny window looking out on the creek, forest, and cow pasture surrounding it. The trees were cut for lumber, the property was sold, and I’m told the land is now littered with trailer homes instead. My first apartment with my husband was condemned, torn down, and built over. My grandmother’s house, a place of discovery, comforting food, stimulating conversation, and presents, was one of the last places that I still had left from my childhood that I could still return to. It has just been sold to new owners. I feel like my past is being erased behind me the more I move forward.

So I just described several places, actual physical structures. And you might say, “it’s not the place that matters, it’s the people.” To that I say, a) I think place actually does matter to some extent. And b) yes, you’re right. But I’ve noticed even my facebook newsfeed favors my friends that are local. It is just easier to be in relationship with people that are nearby most of the time. There are plenty of people who really only function this one way. So in a sense, people and place are often inextricable.

Often, the people you love in your life are so tied to place, that as you leave that place, most of those relationships fade. BUT – some of them do not. Some of them actually come alive in a whole new way.

I think I’ve just realized that one thing that knits my identity together, that preserves a sense of home that can not be erased, is the fact that I have dear long distance friends that have been with me through all of these transitions.

For example, take my friend Libby [a faithful commenter on this blog and writer of her own blog]. 
We’ve been friends since our very early teens. She knew me when I still lived in my little bungalow, she’s been in my grandmother’s house, I got to visit her college dorm multiple times. We went on a double date with our boyfriends who both turned into husbands. She was the one friend around to attend my Texas bridal shower. Our pregnancies overlapped, and I’m right behind her in the journey of having a husband enter academia. We’ve seen each other through many transitions of place and identity. And as much as I am a “different person” today from who I was way back when in the 90’s! I still have Libby for a friend. And that truth does something to unite the pieces of me that have fallen off, gotten erased, and grown throughout that journey. What a dear comfort!  

Thank goodness Libby is one of a lovely bouquet of such friends. A beautiful arrangement I can bring with me into my new home, where I do not know a soul. This way I can still be comfortable in being me, and be patient for the new friendships to develop and build on who I will become. Thank you Libby. Thank you long distance friends. The more I think on you, the more grateful I am for the essential roles you play in my life!

The Movers I Won’t Be Hiring.

Lobsters, did you know that this summer anticipates the busiest volume of moves in the US in ten years? That means it is a mover’s market. That means that if you are hiring a moving company to take your belongings across country for the first time, you’re in trouble. Seeing as how that would be me, I’ve been doing my homework.

I learned it is important to have them do a visual, in-home assessment of all of your belongings to get a “not to exceed price” quote for your move. I learned you should get several quotes. I learned that I needed to make sure they are Better Business Bureau approved, and ideally approved by the American Moving and Storage Association so you avoid all the funny business of dudes with trucks just looking to make a buck. I did my homework. [Now you don’t have to. You’re welcome.]

Doing all this homework means I’ve interacted with a whole slew of interesting people. It has been a stressful headache, but some of these people [unintentionally] helped provide a little comic relief. Here are a few profiles of the movers I won’t be hiring. Names have been changed to protect the innocent.

Dude number one: “Anxiety Attack Al”

When I explained my complicated moving situation, I soon became concerned that this man was going to have a heart attack right there in my apartment. I was nervous about the move, but this guy was having an anxiety attack over how complicated it was. This did not calm me down at all. After assessing my belongings and pulling his hair out a bit, he comes up with an estimate. He looks at his screen, he looks at me, “oh no,” he looks at his screen, and back at me, “you’re going to flip, this is so much money” he tells me. I did not flip; I did not do a summersault either. Five days later when he finally called back to discuss part two of my move, he tells me he can not do it because I don’t meet his minimum pound requirement, so he wants to know what I want to do. This conversation also stresses him out. Three other movers seem to have found a way to help me do it, so I tell him we’ll just go in a different direction. He flips. And then he hangs up on me.

Dude number two: “Too cool for school Sean”

Dude number one had come in carrying a briefcase, a laptop, a portable printer, a clipboard, etc. etc. etc. Dude number two walks in with nothing but his smart phone. I don’t think that guy even carried a wallet. Sharply dressed, hair gelled, he was fifteen minutes late but ready to hit the ground running. He was suave. He was confident. And then he mistyped my email address. Smooth, Sean, smooth.

Dude number three: “Keepin’ it chill Charlie”

In all honesty, I really liked this guy. Fellow parent, quite friendly, totally recognized what a trial I had before me, he bent over backwards to try to make me feel relaxed and calm about it all. But perhaps he got a bit too relaxed when I told him of my concern about getting our mattress box springs out of the 3^rd floor apartment. Our stairwell is horribly narrow. No matter how we turned that box spring, it would not fit. Keepin’ it chill Charlie asks me, “how did you move it in?” I tell him, my brother-in-law overcame his fear of heights to play superman for the day. He climbed on top of our moving truck, slid it over our 2^nd floor neighbors’ balcony, through their apartment to the courtyard below our front door, up over that balcony, and into our apartment.  It was a feat! Charlie says, “cool, can we just do that again?” Nope. I was kinda lookin’ to hire movers that were better equipped than my in-laws. Thanks for playing.

I’m hoping the guys I am hiring work out and we make it across the country in one piece. I’m going to have to leave you on a cliff-hanger though, stay tuned to find out how it all pans out!

Any Lobsters out there have any moving advice for me?