I’ve moved from a town that appears perennially on the top ten list of bests… best place to retire, best place for small business, highest median income… best… best… best… to a town that is perennially on the list of worsts… worst crime… highest poverty rate… etc.
Was I a more superior person when I lived in the “best” place? Am I a loser now that I live in the “worst” place?
Maybe I am. Does it surprise you that I say that? Anyone who tries to convince you that “place” doesn’t matter is a con man. It matters where you live. It matters a lot. Every day, in my new locale, I face challenges I would not face in my former home: It’s harder to get your driver’s license, it’s harder to get a good education, it’s more difficult to get around town, you have to lock everything, you have to think about race, about class, about ticks, about heat, about a myriad of things you took for granted in a nicer place.
Do I work for change? Or do I work to get back to a nicer place? I’ve been through this before, and the answer is work to get back to a nicer place. This place ain’t going to change for the better. Sad to have to say that.
But, there’s this one spark of hope: There are some nice people who live here. There’s no excuse for not building relationships, even in a hell hole. For what it’s worth, that’s my truth for the day.