I love Autumn, and I'm looking forward to spending the next one on the Eastern Seaboard. Right now, I'm enjoying my final one in my hometown. I'll be reading Where'd You Go, Bernadette? soon, as something like a last hurrah. It's a perfect way for me to celebrate the town, my own relationship with it, and my leaving. I can't wait to savor the outsider/quasi-hater viewpoint without feeling defensive. I want to own the weirdness, & just nod my head with the author. Because this is a weird town. And it sucks in any number of its own ways, just as every place sucks it its own way. I think I must want it laid bare for me before I go (not in the Fremont Solstice Parade way, though, thanks).
I tend to champion my hometown. It's stunningly gorgeous all over. The skyline, the UW campus, the incredible parks. It has good arts & culture, lots of great music as always. It's a trove of riches for lovers of food, wine, spirits and ale. It has a world class zoo. A fantastic aquarium. The waterfront is terrific:
...and about to be vastly improved. It's a reader's paradise. It's educated, techy & innovative. It's famously and long since socially & politically progressive. I could, of course, go on & on. So I have a rosy lens I tend to view it through; like any local of any locality, I'm typically touchy when outsiders rag on it. But...I've gone on to hang my head in secret agreement lots of times, and now I'm ready to emerge from that river in Egypt and take a good long well-lit (so to speak, if the book's any good) look at it.
We also have a football team. I'll tell you this: no matter where in the world life takes me, no matter if I never even see my town again, I will always be a #12thMan, and I will always be reppin' the Seattle Seahawks, beleaguered as they often are, forever. Amen, halleluja, and can I get a witness.