I was cleaning
out some cupboards a few weeks ago, and I came across a little notebook from
the summer of 2005. I lived in Atlanta for a few months, working for a
service-learning program and experiencing city life for the first time. One of
the pages of this notebook offered the beginnings of a top ten list that I
never finished: Things That Wouldn’t Happen In Newton, Kansas. One item: being
late to work because the street is closed for a Braves game and you have to
take a detour. Another: getting hit on by the man bagging groceries at the
local store.
I spent a lot of time that summer in awe of the urban setting – people everywhere, public transit, diversity of many kinds, an abundance of restaurant options. The parking lot of the church where I was staying filled up for a couple of days with trailers and equipment used for a big screen movie that was filming nearby. I learned why side-view mirrors are important while driving a mini-van in multiple lanes of traffic. I had to think about things like locking the door and traveling in groups and paying attention to smog alerts.
Now I live in Chicago and many of those things that were shocking, awe-inspiring, or exciting have become commonplace. When I go back to Newton and my mom runs into several people she knows at the grocery store, I am surprised. When I think about how my road bike would never work on the gravel, how quiet it is without the constant noise of city traffic and sirens, and how soil contamination is not a concern when planting a garden…these are the things that are shocking, awe-inspiring, and exciting to me now.
On one hand, I want to use these reflections to draw big conclusions about human malleability and the de-sensitizing effects of exposure to new things. On the other hand, I am reminded of the importance of taking notice. I can see the Willis (formerly Sears) Tower from the living room window that I am looking out as I write. A Mexican man pushing an ice cream cart just walked by on the sidewalk outside. If I open the windows, I will hear the Ashland bus announcing its stop half a block down. Commonplace. Special. Some of both.
I spent a lot of time that summer in awe of the urban setting – people everywhere, public transit, diversity of many kinds, an abundance of restaurant options. The parking lot of the church where I was staying filled up for a couple of days with trailers and equipment used for a big screen movie that was filming nearby. I learned why side-view mirrors are important while driving a mini-van in multiple lanes of traffic. I had to think about things like locking the door and traveling in groups and paying attention to smog alerts.
Now I live in Chicago and many of those things that were shocking, awe-inspiring, or exciting have become commonplace. When I go back to Newton and my mom runs into several people she knows at the grocery store, I am surprised. When I think about how my road bike would never work on the gravel, how quiet it is without the constant noise of city traffic and sirens, and how soil contamination is not a concern when planting a garden…these are the things that are shocking, awe-inspiring, and exciting to me now.
On one hand, I want to use these reflections to draw big conclusions about human malleability and the de-sensitizing effects of exposure to new things. On the other hand, I am reminded of the importance of taking notice. I can see the Willis (formerly Sears) Tower from the living room window that I am looking out as I write. A Mexican man pushing an ice cream cart just walked by on the sidewalk outside. If I open the windows, I will hear the Ashland bus announcing its stop half a block down. Commonplace. Special. Some of both.
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