Tyler on the Move: "Miserable" Cities and Creative Expression
Tyler Oaks on the Move: “Miserable” Cities and Creative Expression
Tyler on the Move
Volume 5
Issue 8
05/20/2008
Before driving back to give a speech at my alma mater, Grace M. Davis High School, I read that Forbes Magazine ranked Modesto, California as the nation’s eighth most miserable city. In fact, according to last year’s edition of Cities Ranked and Rated, Modesto was the nation’s least desirable place to live. Authors Bert Sperling and Peter Sander gave the Central California city where I spent several years of my life zero points.
Yet I’ve learned some important lessons about “miserable” cities as I’ve traveled and driven back to Modesto several times recently. Statistics aside, rejected cities are ripe with people who know how to create fascinating spheres around them. If the recent conversations I’ve had in snubbed cities are any of indication of the kind of company misery brings, I’m in. In fact, the writer in me was born in Modesto.
Last month, when I returned to my former high school to speak to its academic achievers, I was reminded of my love of literature formed there. Seeing Ms. Barr, my senior-year English teacher, I realized that after all these years I could still recite the Macbeth piece we learned in her class (applause to her). Memories of books we studied flooded my mind. The image of my bedroom strewn with pictures of other places I had also read about and that I wanted to explore for myself wouldn’t leave my mind. Teachers introduce us to books, books to other worlds. We travel through words and then are inspired to go, visit, and learn things firsthand wherever that may take us. Whether tourist destination or cast-off neighborhood, dreams can be made anywhere. Muses lurk in what others pass by.
On a hot May Saturday earlier this month I was back in Modesto’s downtown, a participant in a fundraiser for the Visually Impaired Center of Stanislaus County. There I talked with several blind people about literature. Their passion for stories and words inspired me. Equally fascinating is what they taught me about the singularity of voice and the unique experience of listening to a book read aloud. That night my friends and I read poetry to each other in the garden, the sound of their voices comforting to me as I missed the almond orchards. Again I could think and dream, lost in the words of the poetry.
Artisans, artists, designers, people who create and inspire, this is the Modesto surveys do not communicate. Whatever a city’s rank, imagination is born and can be expressed. Modesto was once my place to read, study maps, and grow until I was taken elsewhere. Even though I did not stay, by driving back to Modesto I’ve learned better than to only believe in status. I now have a hunch that other low-ranking cities across the nation are occupied by people I would like to meet, and they aren’t miserable either.
Tyler on the Move
Volume 5
Issue 8
05/20/2008
Before driving back to give a speech at my alma mater, Grace M. Davis High School, I read that Forbes Magazine ranked Modesto, California as the nation’s eighth most miserable city. In fact, according to last year’s edition of Cities Ranked and Rated, Modesto was the nation’s least desirable place to live. Authors Bert Sperling and Peter Sander gave the Central California city where I spent several years of my life zero points.
Yet I’ve learned some important lessons about “miserable” cities as I’ve traveled and driven back to Modesto several times recently. Statistics aside, rejected cities are ripe with people who know how to create fascinating spheres around them. If the recent conversations I’ve had in snubbed cities are any of indication of the kind of company misery brings, I’m in. In fact, the writer in me was born in Modesto.
Last month, when I returned to my former high school to speak to its academic achievers, I was reminded of my love of literature formed there. Seeing Ms. Barr, my senior-year English teacher, I realized that after all these years I could still recite the Macbeth piece we learned in her class (applause to her). Memories of books we studied flooded my mind. The image of my bedroom strewn with pictures of other places I had also read about and that I wanted to explore for myself wouldn’t leave my mind. Teachers introduce us to books, books to other worlds. We travel through words and then are inspired to go, visit, and learn things firsthand wherever that may take us. Whether tourist destination or cast-off neighborhood, dreams can be made anywhere. Muses lurk in what others pass by.
On a hot May Saturday earlier this month I was back in Modesto’s downtown, a participant in a fundraiser for the Visually Impaired Center of Stanislaus County. There I talked with several blind people about literature. Their passion for stories and words inspired me. Equally fascinating is what they taught me about the singularity of voice and the unique experience of listening to a book read aloud. That night my friends and I read poetry to each other in the garden, the sound of their voices comforting to me as I missed the almond orchards. Again I could think and dream, lost in the words of the poetry.
Artisans, artists, designers, people who create and inspire, this is the Modesto surveys do not communicate. Whatever a city’s rank, imagination is born and can be expressed. Modesto was once my place to read, study maps, and grow until I was taken elsewhere. Even though I did not stay, by driving back to Modesto I’ve learned better than to only believe in status. I now have a hunch that other low-ranking cities across the nation are occupied by people I would like to meet, and they aren’t miserable either.
posted by Tyler Oaks at
4:12 PM
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