I’ve got a NIMBY confession
We moved to the suburbs last winter, a week before the first “Snowpocalypse.” Since then, I’ve been acclimating. I do mourn certain aspects of city life that do not exist out here. I miss walking the dog and the baby to the grocery store, parking the dog outside, getting only enough food for dinner, then walking home after possibly another pit stop at the hardware store to give Brandine a drink of water. I miss all the eccentrics in my old neighborhood. I miss the community garden and the sociable trails in Rock Creek Park. I miss bringing Wren to the pool hall for dinner. But especially, I miss being able to say: I am an urbanite and I love it. Six months ago, I could tell a passerby where to get the best greeting cards and how to get there. (Pulp, Green Line to U Street.) Here in the burbs I can give driving directions (via a GPS Monty bought me) to a farm that sells cage free eggs. That’s very pleasant and locavore, but it’s not quite the same.
In a way, moving to the burbs is a farewell to my beautiful misspent youth. After Wren was born, Monty and I adapted to quiet nights in. Now, I don’t want to enter middle age pulling the same hedonistic stunts from the reckless olden days. But country life has had some serious effects on my mental framework. Which brings me to the title of this post: I have somehow transformed into a NIMBY.
Yesterday, I sent a message to my neighborhood listserv regarding some rumors of “rowdy” teenagers without “passes” causing “situations” at our community swimming pool. Really. From me. Long, long ago, my friends and I would sneak into apartment swimming pools at night and float around jugs of table wine. Now I’m concerned that normal excitable teens will disobey the noise rules. It’s so … incongruous. But you know what? I’ve got Wren now, and there’s no way I’m letting some millenial whippersnappers ruin her own beautiful youth.
–Penelope
Don’t panic. I’ve spent lots of years in suburbs, in small towns, in medium-sized cities and in large cities. Each type of place has its benefits and its drawbacks, and we can move to a new type of place when it better meets our needs. As we age, our needs change. It’s normal. Just make the best of wherever you are at the moment. And if that means making sure the pool is safe for that angel child of yours, so be it. We all made mistakes as teenagers but it is still probably a good idea for adults to crack down on teenagers at times! C’est la vie!
I wouldn’t worry yet. When you start writing indignant screeds about the bag tax or the “too salty” scallops at Safeway then you are officially “ornery.”