LL (over at Seedlings in Stone) and I have decided to real Al Hsu’s The Suburban Christian together, and discuss it on our respective blogs. She has posted her initial thoughts in “Subfused.” These are a few of my thoughts about the intro and chapter 1.
The book starts out with some broad definitions of terms like urban, suburban, exurban, and rural. Though these concepts seem simple enough, and I can imagine places I’ve been that would fit into each category, I have had a difficult time figuring out what to call the area where I live. And for some reason, it seems like an important thing for me to know before I can read much further.
When I consider my home and the surrounding neighborhood, all the single dwelling homes and the SUVs make me think I live in a suburb. And indeed, the appraisal made of my home before I bought it clearly indicates “suburban.” Shouldn’t that settle it?
Some other features of my area, however, like my numbered street, the litter thrown on my lawn, the public bus that runs through the area, and the frequent sirens I hear at night make me feel more urban. I do live within the city limits, afterall.
But then again, the picture above is the view from my backdoor. Were I to snap a photo from my front door, I could easily take one without getting any other houses in the picture. My lot is more than a third of an acre, I am able to compost and grow vegetables, and my house is on a septic system rather than public sewer. But surely this area could not be considered rural?
I began to get a better feel for my status this afternoon as I was mowing my lawn. I think grass might provide a good way to define urban, suburban, and rural for me. And I can start with what I know.
I grew up in a very rural area. And by rural, I don’t mean a small town. In fact, the addresses at every house I lived in through college always began with Rural Route XXX, until the government came through and named all the streets for the new 911 system back in the 90s. Living in a rural area meant we always had gigantic yards and riding lawn mowers. At one house, we had to mow with a tractor because the lawn was so large. In fact, I learned to drive by mowing the lawn on those lawn mowers and tractors. I don’t think I had even heard the words “urban” or “suburban” back then, but with all that grass, I knew I lived in a rural area.
The contrast was all the more striking, then, when I moved to Chicago and lived 5 blocks off Michigan Avenue and the Gold Coast. Not only did I NOT have any grass to call my own, I had to walk a few blocks to find any grass at all. And then, I don’t think it had to be mowed very often because of all the foot traffic. I remembering missing grass when I lived in Chicago. Grass and stars. And to be sure, the lack of grass just rang out “urban” to me.
By default, I understand that my current situation must be suburban because of my grass situation. I have grass — about a fourth of an acre, in fact. But I can mow the whole lawn with a push mower in less than an hour. That’s too much grass to be urban, but nowhere near enough to be rural.
I guess the only thing left for me to come to terms with is this: since I live in a suburb, I need to think of myself as a suburbanite. But somehow I don’t seem to fit the mold.
Growing up in a rural setting has helped shape who I am. I leave my front door open in the summer, I freeze vegetables from the garden and make my own bread, I wave at people I pass on the road. Even when I lived in Chicago, I continued to define myself as a country bumpkin and lived that way, looking people in the eye and saying “hello” as I walked down the street (I made more than a few people uncomfortable doing that!), going to farmers’ markets in the summer, opening the windows rather than turning on the air. Not being from the city didn’t seem like a problem for me. I could define myself by what I was not.
Suburban life is an uncomforable “almost” for me. Should I go ahead and plant tomatoes and green beans in the flower bed along the side of my house, or should I mulch and plant bushes like all the other houses in my area? When I get home at night, should I pull directly into my garage and stay in the house for the rest of the evening, or should I walk over and get to know my neighbors?
I think I’ve known all along that I live in the suburbs, but I’m having a hard time picturing myself as a suburbanite. I don’t have a husband who commutes to work, and I don’t have children who play soccer. My lawn has a few dandelions in it, and I live only two miles from where I work. How can I possibly be a suburbanite?
Rather than conforming to the stereotypes I have of suburbanites, maybe the best way to embrace this place I call home is to bring all my life experiences into the suburbs with me.
My name’s Charity, and I’m a subruralurbanite.
Ted — Yes, I think it would do the whole neighborhood good for me to live a little differently than expected. I’ve already been trying to do that by taking an interest in my neighbors’ lives.
HalfMom — Until today, you couldn’t have paid me to go outside and mow the lawn in the frigid temperatures. Now that the sun is back and the air is warming, I ready to hit the grass!
What a very fun post – I have lived in “all the above” except probably not truly urban – because there was still grass around the apartment complex. I like the notion of categorizing by the Grass-O-Meter.
Right now, mine says it’s time to cut the grass and it’s still too cold and wet to be outside to do it.
Charity, Very interesting post. I’m from the country also and dwell in a very similar area as you. Though our lot and yard really isn’t big enough. And we’re to crammed together here. And I really do kind of feel strange in this living. Though I’ve become accustomed to it, and Deb, my wife seems to have adjusted well as she always seems to do.
Maybe your neighbors need some of the molds broken. Are all these molds really good? What are they traced to and why? Interesting questions to ponder for me.
Thanks for sharing that.
Craver and LL — From now on, I will think of this post as, fondly, The Dandelion Dispute. 🙂 One woman’s flower is another man’s weed!
Oh yeah? Lucifer was one of God’s “lovely creations,” too. And mosquitos. And poodles. (ugh!)
I don’t use chems in my backyard (which is overrun with weeds and bare spots). And nobody walks on the front lawn unless I’m standing there, waving them on… I think they’re afraid of Sniper-VII. I’m just kidding. I would never shoot at anyone on my front lawn. (The shells damage the lawnmower blades.)
The jury is still out on the pros and cons of organic alternatives, but I have given it some consideration.
Craver, dear Craver, what shall we do with you? Picking on one of God’s lovely creations. With poisons that are bad for you, your kids, and your pets no less…
Now, if you don’t want to make coffee with them (yes, Charity, I forgot about wine, but they can be used for coffee), you can be happy that they will nourish your compost pile. The tap root is especially good about storing nutrients.
One big oaf of a dandelion weed mercilessly destroys many helpless little grass plants. The best way to prevent this lawn cancer is to grow thick, healthy grass, so there is no room for the bad guys to get their roots down.
But once they’ve arrived, I immediately pull the flowers and buds off, so they don’t turn into the puffy seeds, and from that point on, it’s all just a blur. I wake up a couple hours later with holes all over the lawn, a dandelion tool, and broadleaf weed spray (yes, chemicals) at my side.
I would not drink coffee that was borne out of the slaughter of countless innocent grasses. To me, that would be like accepting a parcel of land from King Ahab and his evil queen Jez.
Craver — I’m not saying I like dandelions. I just don’t have the same intense passion to be rid of them as others do (not mentioning any names). So, how do you keep dandelions out of your lawn?
LL — Can you really make coffee out of the roots? I’ve heard of Dandelion wine, but the coffee was new to me. Maybe this will change Craver’s mind.
A Musing — Did you grow up in more of a rural area? Do you garden at all in your new place? It will be great to hear your thoughts as you read the book too.
Really, Craver. You must learn to eat them. Think of the free grocery store in your own yard! 🙂 And did you know you can even make coffee from the roots? (All the more reason to dig them out by the roots, eh?)
Dandelions? Grrrr… I like conforming to a certain suburban presentation of the front lawn, and I don’t like those nasty little yellow things.
I’m A Musing Mom and I’m a suburbanite. There. It’s out. I feel much better.
Charity, I see some similarities in our experiences of suburbia. We chose a house that backs up to a field – more room to roam without the upkeep. At our previous “rural” suburban home on a half acre we had nearly a farm in the back yard and canned more than we could eat. Our space is more limited now, but we still don’t conform to all the stereotypes (okay, I’m a soccer mom, but I was also a soccer kid so I come by it honestly).
Whew! I’m running long. Since I’m reading the book too I suppose I could continue the conversation over on my blog. Just need a little more time to read and absorb. But it’s definitely more enjoyable to read with company. Thanks for sharing in your post!
Al — Your point is well taken about suburbia having the best and worst of rural and urban settings. I can see that just by walking out my door.
Thanks for passing along the info about the sample chapters. I hope some people will go a step further and buy the book and read along with us.
SO, what do you think everyone? Want to join the journey?
Erin — Maybe I should suggest to Al that he market the book by offering a free “Grass-O-Meter” with every purchase. Al, what do you think? 🙂
Aimee — Yes, join in the discussion! Maybe you could post with LL and I and some of the others?
LL — You have said so succinctly what I spend paragraphs on. Yes, who we are shapes where we are. We aren’t confined by the stereotypes of any of these areas. By the way, I have some violets planted already, how to you prepare them for eating? With salad greens?
This is a great post, Charity. Yep, there’s a lot of ambiguity in where we live. I think suburbia is interesting because it in some ways is the middle ground between rural and urban and has some of the best (and worst) of both environments.
If folks would like to join in on these discussions but don’t have a copy of the book, the intro and chapter 1 are both available online as free PDFs at IVP’s website:
http://www.ivpress.com/cgi-ivpress/book.pl/toc/code=3334
Whimisical! I love it.
So, I see you have similar problems in sorting it all out, but I love your conclusion…. we bring who-we-are into our space, and then, perhaps, we change what-our-space-is by who we are (or grow to be).
And, I think you should go for the tomatoes in the border. I’ve got strawberries, hot peppers, and violets (yup, I eat violets.)
I am laughing!! I am reading the book too and can’t wait to discuss!
This was fun to read, Charity.
My Grass-O-Meter says I’m living in a rural area. But I grew up in suburban areas.
Urban areas attract loads of arts and cultural diversity with lots to see and do; rural areas have yummy fresh air, gorgeously untainted landscapes and lots of QUIET; suburban areas are a convenient distance from both urban and rural, with just the right sized plot to do a manageable garden. There are things I enjoy and appreciate about each of those areas.
I suppose that makes me a Subrurbanitophile.