Vehicles Whizzing By

I composed the following post while in the ATL area over the holidays:

ZWAM! ZWISH! ZWOWWW!

Anybody familiar with the Atlanta area can immediately recognize these onomatopoeias as the collective sound of cars whizzing by at speeds that don't care for pedestrians. I mean, I admit that we're on their turf just by virtue of being within a thirty - no, fifty - mile radius of ATL. We seem to have been on foot but near fast cars a lot this trip.

That's probably because we spent a lot of time exploring Decatur and Druid Hills on foot. Now I have enough familiarity to see a location on a map and relate it to my sparse Atlanta knowledge. The area right around Emory is amazing. For those unfamiliar with Druid Hills, Candler Park, Inman Park, and Decatur - they're full of immaculately-maintained homes that are as well proportioned and often as well maintained now as they were in their heyday. The scale seems intentional as opposed to slap-dash. It's close to the culture centers in Atlanta. The Emory area seems like a great place to live if you can afford it.

We attended church in Druid Hills and went to lunch afterward with friends. We Did Christmas Eve with Richie's extended family, which was A Hoot. What a sweet crowd! Highlights include seeing that Richie's Uncle Billy, who has recently begun chemo for lung cancer, remains spunky and sweet as ever and seeing Cousin ("Uncle" according to Mazie and Vivian) Randy who visited from Indiana.

Additionally, Richie and I got to celebrate the 8th anniversary of our first date at a Waffle House (American Hibachi) near the one we actually ate at on that first date. And, wouldn't you know it, Waffle House seems to be exempt from GA's smoking ordinance! No patrons were smoking, but copious smoke wafted from the "bunker" (since the food prep area is right out front, there's no other explanation for the enclave in back). Some institutions will never change. It's slightly comforting in a persistence-of-culture-over-ordinance sort of way. But I hate smoke and I happened to welcome the ordinance.

Today we went to Pigeon Hill to visit with some old friends and get into the outdoors. On the way back we got turned around and ended up at the infamous Barrett Parkway exit, home to every chain restaurant and mega store imaginable. When I moved to Kennesaw in 1991, Town Center Mall had just been built. Now it's grimy and gray and has had to be terraced to accomodate the explosion of Chili's and Jared Galleria and grownup playgrounds that has mushroomed since then. At first it was amazing, then it got irritating. Now it's dirty and difficult to navigate. One of the difficult things about Metro Atlanta is that its economy is retail-based. I realize that Atlanta proper is a seat of government, of media, and of commerce. However, it seems the chief product of this place is the amalgam of retail cornucopias that devastate a landscape and, I would argue, add little lasting value to the people who patronize them. Then people need houses with extra space for stuff that people got at Jared and Haverty's and Bed Bath & Beyond (and, in my case, REI and Barnes and Noble and (most embarrassing and I'm really biting the bullet and being honest here) J.Crew)).

Now I want to go ahead and confess that there are things I want - embarrassing things like new lip gloss and a certain cut of jeans. I'd love one of those Kitchen Aid mixers that come in rockin' colors and mix your stuff while you scurry around the kitchen doing other things. I have to wage inner battles with myself to snap back to awareness that stuff doesn't matter and my good old mixer and same old jeans will be fine. Having had these conversations with myself, having protected myself from many types of advertising, I feel wary about shopping. Nevertheless, I totally swung by KB Toys and got some sweet deals on plastic horse sets and plush dinosaurs this week. Heck, Richie and I got as close as we get to a spending spree at Hobby Lobby - so in ecstasy were we over the types of paints, yarns, fabrics, and doo dads - all 30% off.

I forget what it's like here until I come back. There's more shaking here than in Williamsburg. Anybody surprised?

More importantly, I can't afford to wag my finger at retail culture when I participate. However, I would welcome and would gladly participate in a shift in America's economy toward lasting products that create lasting value. A widespread public rail system, initiatives to relocalize food production, and old-fashioned American manufacturing come to mind. Green energy production and infrastucture also seem like excellent places to spend our effort.

I have been devoutly, if not vocally, anti-consumer for a long time. This has meant trying to squeeze the most ethical purchasing choices possible out of a modest income. So we do the green cleaning product thing, we buy in bulk, we try to make Christmas gifts, we used cloth diapers, and we buy 80% of our clothing from the thrift stores in town. (BTW, If you don't do these things, that's okay; I point no fingers. The choices we've made against the mainstream have been difficult to varying degrees. Conversely, if there's something you'd like to see on that little list, then I'm sorry, but we may get to it later. Please don't judge us and we won't judge you). Unfortunately, my anti-consumerism has manifested primarily as feeling guilty. And for a long time I've wished that we Americans would suddenly realize that spending more than we earn on non-durable goods doesn't make much sense for anyone.

It has only been since the economy has turned south that I realized that the vast momentum of the economy requires massive restructuring in order to turn any corners at all, let alone execute the U-turn I imagine. Furthermore, I hadn't realized the economic spasm financial institutions, retailers, and chains of support would be thrown into by such profound shifts. I'm not suggesting that curtailed shopping is responsible for the economic downturn; I know it's only a symptom of the larger mess. I'm only saying that even a healthy economy would have a difficult time shifting from producing a million apparel choices to producing state-of-the-art grain mills.

I am well aware that practically everyone else on earth besides me would prefer apparel over grain mills. Consumer choice is the blindfolded mechanic that's built the colicky juggernaut that is our economy. That's way too much awkward metaphor for one sentence, so I'll quit before I commit any more crimes of composition. Just know that these things are on my mind. I consider purchases carefully (partly in thanks to the ever-honest PearBudget.com). Finally, one challenge of Atlanta culture is its half-crazed embrace of the consumer economy.