An Overview of Our Town From Local Journalists Across the United States
Sunday, January 14, 2007
On the grounds that others often see us more clearly than we see ourselves, Close to Home asked some local newspaper columnists from around the country to tell us, briefly, what the words "Washington, D.C." mean to them and their communities.
Oregon: It's What's Lit Up at Night
Let's begin with the obvious: the wince, the weary shake of the head, the sigh of cynicism. Washington? That Washington? An Oregonian recalls his most recent trip to the nation's capital, hearing the pimps and hookers bicker and barter on the street outside his hotel. Others see the jagged divides -- rich and poor, black and white -- and the District's apparent inability to heal itself."
Power and glory and crack houses. Kids starving. An American metaphor if there ever was one," a local college magazine editor told me the other day. Washington is still Jack Abramoff's town: Someone is always gaming the system, mocking our sense of urgency, taking their K Street cut.
But just when you wonder if all hope is lost, a little optimism, a little Jimmy Stewart, bubbles to the surface. Not because anyone in the Northwest expects Washington to solve our problems, much less take the hint and allow Oregon to solve Washington's. (Seriously, folks, what part of "vote by mail" don't you understand?) No, it's the meaning of the stuff that's lit up at night. That still sticks in our throat. That's why we want our sixth-graders to climb the marble steps at the west end of the Mall and walk beside us along the Wall.
That's why we wince. Even the White House looks like it stands for something from a distance."
I can't allow myself to believe the system is beyond repair," a Portlander told me inside Powell's Books. He is savoring the election, hope, the threat of change. "Let me just enjoy this feeling of optimism."
- Steve Duin
Portland
Michigan: A Bad Case of Metro Envy
Washington is 500 miles away, but we think of you whenever we step onto the Detroit subway.
Hey, wait a minute. We don't have a subway! Or a high-speed el, or dedicated bus lanes, or any mass-transit system to speak of. Nothing we'd recommend to a visitor from out of town, anyway.
Not that we're bitter. It's just that Michigan is one of those Midwestern donor states that ship you a whole lot more in federal taxes than you return to us in federal spending -- about a buck out the door for every 85 cents we reel back in.
When we're balancing year-end accounts, there really isn't enough left over to subsidize a sleek rapid transit system -- or even, most years, to patch the potholes on our critically overcrowded freeways.
So when those of us who've visited our nation's capital think of Washington, it's with a peculiar combination of pride and resentment, the way you might think about an especially well-turned-out deadbeat dad.
But we do think of you -- you and your spotless Metro, delivering you from the heated bowels of the center city to the suburban parking lots, where your imports wait to convey you the last mile of your commutes.
Not, as I say, that we're bitter.
- Brian Dickerson
Detroit
The writer is a columnist at the Detroit Free Press.
Kentucky: 'I Wouldn't Want to Live There'
Though I've lived in Louisville for 22 years, I'm still perceived as carpetbagger from up North, New York City, who doesn't know diddly about the Bluegrass.
Still, I'll risk saying that if the average Kentuckian were asked what he or she thinks of Washington, the response would be: "Wouldn't mind seeing the White House and all the monuments, but I wouldn't want to live there.
"Why? Corrupt politicians. Crime. Bad schools. Racial tension. Immigration-related tension. Terrible traffic. Mayor Whatshisname, the one who was using drugs.
Perceptions about Washington, unfortunately, are shaped largely by the mainstream media. And I believe that it's fair to say that, other than the political stuff, D.C. is covered in the media much as the Third World is. It's almost always bad news.
And vice versa. If Washingtonians were asked to imagine Kentucky, they'd probably mention hillbillies and, lately, the home of a Miss USA gone wild.
- Betty Winston Baye
Louisville
The writer is a columnist and an editorial writer at the Courier-Journal.
Texas: Huachinton, Can You Hear Us?
In bilingual South Texas, Washington, or Huachinton, is a faraway place disconnected from our realities.
Most South Texans, I'm quite certain, have never been to D.C. Or they have spent only a few bewildering days there, taking cabs because the Metro system seemed to work for everyone but them.
To them, Washington means the federal government, political blowhards and misspent tax money.
Some older South Texans wistfully recall when Texans were among Washington's powerful, and federal money built dams and brought electricity and potable water to then-small towns. Many black and Latino Texans recall that it took World War II spending and the GI Bill to open up the middle class to them. They also recall Washington's distant hand ending Texas's poll tax and forcing the state to open its colleges and public schools to all.
But Washington's good deeds and Texans' D.C. clout began to wane in the 1970s. And the two-way disconnect grew as fast as Texas's population.
Now that three of the nation's 10 largest cities and the second-largest congressional delegation are in Texas, and a Texan is president, you might think that Washington's interest in us would be renewed. You might expect that Texans would moderate such hateful measures as building walls to keep our neighbors out. And, by the way, prevent border ranchers from watering cattle from the Rio Grande.
But today the Washington that was once a capital of reasoned and often humorous debate has been overtaken by shrill voices mouthing carefully crafted rhetoric to divert attention from the reality that special interests matter more than the needs of Americans -- and especially the needs of those who call it Huachinton.--
Carlos Guerra
San Antonio
The writer is a columnist at the San Antonio Express-News.
Ohio: 4 Letters, 3 Vowels, 0 Pretensions
One of the first things I learned about Washington is that total strangers will say it's good to see you because they're afraid they met you before and don't remember the privilege. Everywhere I go, I stick my hand out to greet someone I've never before laid eyes on, and immediately they tell me it's nice to be in their line of vision again.
I want to assure them I have no influence worth wooing, so why don't we just relax and have a little chat. By then, though, they're already looking over my shoulder for someone else they can be glad to see.
You don't get away with that in Ohio. We assume we aren't memorable, which explains why so many of us grab your hand and say, "You don't remember me, do you?" If you pull that good-to-see-you stunt, chances are the hand you're holding will tighten just a tad and you'll be asked to name the date of that previous encounter. We're Midwesterners. You're supposed to mean what you say.
Speaking of the Midwest, I'd like to point out something we have in common with every last one of you. We live in the same time zone. No kidding. I've lost count of how many times I've had to explain on the phone that, yes, it's 4 o'clock here, too, and you must be thinking of Iowa. We both have four letters, three vowels and a passion for potlucks, but we're hundreds of miles from each other, and we're a whole lot closer to you. In fact, you can barely buckle your seat belt before the flight attendant tells you it's time to set yourself upright for a descent into Cleveland.
Come see us sometime. We'll be glad to meet you.
- Connie Schultz
Cleveland
The writer, a columnist at the Cleveland Plain Dealer, is married to Sen. Sherrod Brown (D-Ohio).
Utah: We Pretend We Don't Need You
LaVar Christensen, a Republican making a first and ultimately failed run in Utah's 2nd Congressional District last fall, had some chutzpah. His campaign slogan? "America Needs Utah."
No, it doesn't. We are a sparsely populated state that counts about as much as gum on Washington's shoe.
Christensen couldn't help stating, I suppose, what he considered the obvious for Utahns -- 65 percent of whom at some level are Mormon, and keepers of a culture steeped in at least 150 years of doubting and disliking D.C.
A sense of inferiority toward the East lingers here, though I'm always flummoxed as to why. This is some state. Five national parks; seven ski resorts within 30 minutes of Salt Lake City; clean downtown streets that, per Brigham Young's original edict, are still wide enough to turn around a team of oxen (or, in 2007, a Humvee).
Still, Utahns typically look askance at anything generated from inside the Beltway. Except for when we really, really want something. Case in point: The only way Utah could pull off a flawless 2002 Winter Olympics was with healthy injections of federal money for transit, highway, post-Sept. 11 security and forest service improvements. Washington gave; Utah took. And we delivered the best U.S. Olympic Games yet, baby.
We need Washington, even when we pretend we don't. We're like the most self-conscious kid on campus trying to make time with the sweetheart of Sigma Chi. I think you should like us simply for what we are -- the loveliest and slightly wackiest state in the union.
America needs Utah? We know better. But we keep hoping you'll change your mind.
-- Holly Mullen
Salt Lake City
South Dakota: We're Fine, Thank You
Though South Dakota is halfway across the United States -- flyover country to you -- we'd like to be a little farther away from Washington. Because nothing good comes from that piece of former swampland wedged between Virginia and Maryland.
Oh, pork comes from D.C. But South Dakotans don't want much pork. We like what we have -- say, Ellsworth Air Force Base in the state's western part. And we gloat when our politicians retain such plums. But, really, we don't want much else. Okay, maybe a water pipeline.
We don't need cherry blossoms, we're fine with sunflowers and cornstalks. We know good people go to the nation's capital. We just don't like what happens to them when they stay too long. And we think 18 years in the U.S. Senate is long enough (see McGovern, George, and Daschle, Tom).
-- Jill Callison
Sioux Falls, S.D.
The writer is a Sioux Falls Argus Leader columnist.
Alaska: Is It Spring Yet?
I've been to Washington only once. Although it was more than 20 years ago, the memories of the monuments are still fresh. My family was there on the Fourth of July. We watched fireworks on the Mall.
For a kid, those were special memories. But kids grow up. They get a little jaded, a bit cynical. This, despite the fact that they -- my wife and I, actually -- might frequently quote the "Schoolhouse Rock" jingle: I'm just a bill. Yes, I'm only a bill. And I'm sitting here on Capitol Hill. Kids learn about the Republican-Democratic debate, about filibusters and about Monica Lewinsky, Iran-contra, Watergate, Mark Foley.
So, today, to a 30-something journalist from Alaska, Washington is perhaps too frequently about oil drilling in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, Sen. Ted Stevens ("Uncle Ted" to us) and his infamous Bridges to Nowhere.
That's too bad. You can't define a place by what you think you know or what you've heard. If that were the case, most Alaskans would live in igloos -- in reality, very, very few do.
So, what is Washington? I'm not sure. I can't make a judgment based on one visit. But what I recall is a vibrant city with plenty of history. And a place that cherishes its springtime cherry blossoms. From the Alaskan perspective that spring can't get here soon enough, D.C. looks like the best place in the world.
-- Steve Edwards
Anchorage
The writer is an editor at the Anchorage Daily News and moderator of the blog Alaskology.
California: Washington? Say What?
I hate to break it to you, but people in Silicon Valley don't spend a lot of time thinking about Washington.
Oh, sure, we follow the news. We know the federal government is still grinding away, just like a "West Wing" rerun. We tolerate powerful politicians who flock here for campaign cash. We cringe as Immigration and Customs Enforcement and the Department of Homeland Security build the Berlin Wall on our border, Congress blows off health-care reform, and the administration finds new ways to alienate every nation on Earth.
Many of us have visited Washington at least once, to see the monuments and museums. We'd make the trip more often if you'd let us fly directly into the convenient airport named for our former governor, instead of the faraway one with the silly trams.
-- Patty Fisher
San Jose
The writer is a columnist at the San Jose Mercury News.
Vermont: Push Paper? I Don't Think So
Much about the lower 47 puzzles Vermonters; perhaps no place more than Washington. How can so many people dash about, looking so busy, and have so little to show for it at day's end?
In Vermont, we like to see the product of our labor, to feel it or to taste it. We split and stack firewood, and sure enough we set by the warm fire we kindled. We feed cows and milk them, and then we have pails of milk to drink -- and with some more work, ice cream and butter. We clobber away in a granite or marble quarry and, when the sun sets over the Adirondacks, we can rub our hands over the smooth slab of rock we've muscled from the mountainside. We cut timber. We boil sap from maple trees until it magically transforms into syrup. We shovel and then we shovel some more until we have a path through the snow to fetch the mail.
What are all those people doing in the District of Columbia? They crowd into underground trains, they sprint for cabs, they sit for hours around polished tables yakking at each other, and then they go home. Nothing to touch, nothing to taste. Nothing except paper from the trees we cut in Vermont to shove into briefcases everyone seems to hug so passionately.
For what? What is Washington making? Except, of course, enough money to go relax at Nationals games. They used to be our hometown Montreal Expos. If we cut enough wood or sold enough milk, we'd treat ourselves to a baseball game there. Took less time for most Vermonters to travel to an Expos game than it does to go from Prince William County to RFK Stadium.
But the Expos were stolen. By Washington.
-- Ed Shamy
Burlington, Vt.
The writer is a Burlington Free Press columnist.
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