I love Scranton. I was born there, raised there, and left a bit of my heart there a long time ago.
I don't live in Scranton. It's not intentional, mind you, it all came about by wanting to cut drive times to and from work. So we moved to The Back Mountain some years ago. I also love The Back Mountain, but it's not Scranhattan. Most of us, I suspect, have some sort of thing for our hometown, wherever it might be.
Recently, The Scranhattan Festival was held. The first ever. If it were me, and I were running the show, I would have called it The First Annual Scranhattan Festival, entrusting my optimism to the four winds.
Hey, baby, you gotta be from Scranhattan to know about The High Works. How many under 50 even know the approximate coordinates that define The High Works? How many care?
Right, few if any, and fewer it is each and every year.
What I genuinely love is that Scranton is trying so hard to reinvent itself. Even more encouraging is that by all accounts the city is succeeding. At times, succeeding in spite of itself. What stirs me more than the reinvention is the fact that it's men and women in their 20s and 30s who are driving this resurrection of the once and future City.
(Scranton: Once and Future City is a documentary done over 20 years ago centered on what was then the widely expected imminent comeback of Scranton. It's worth a watch whenever it runs on WVIA.)
I know a lot of us smelled a turnaround in the air going all the way back to the early 80s. I was then beginning my 30s and quite excited about watching the hometown turnaround.
As a visitor to downtown Scranton sarcastically said to me in, best guess, 1981, "I never knew the Wehrmacht got this far." The mark from that bruise is still tender to the touch.
The comeback has taken far longer than expected. Yet, it is underway. Sadly, my youth, by varying definitions, slipped away waiting for the city to get the hell moving.
Now, of course, we have Joe Biden, Hillary Clinton, and The Office to pump even more national interest into the Scranton Phenomena, and yes, I think there is such a thing, there is a Scranton Phenomena.
For a long time, many have half-jokingly called Scranton The Real Center of The Universe. The thinking behind that is this; no matter where you travel, nationally, globally, you inevitably run across someone with Scranton roots, if not someone who still lives in Scranton. Carol and I both have experienced this dozens of times from Ireland to Canada, from Mexico to Louisiana, from Colorado to The Virgin Islands.
(Quick example. One morning over twenty years ago, while traveling west from Chicago aboard Amtrak's California Zephyr, I had walked the few steps from my sleeper to the dining car for breakfast as we pulled out of Denver. The dining car steward seated me with an elderly couple from Pullman, Washington, who were returning from visiting family in Chicago. The husband asked where I was from. I said "Scranton, Pennsylvania, sir." He said, "Huh, how about that, my mother was from Scranton.")
For a brief while there, maybe a couple years ago, some were referring to Scranton as Scrantona Beach. I liked that, thought it had great possibility, that all it needed was some serious repeating by the right people.
There's something fun, carefree, sunny, bright, and two-tons-of-fun sounding about Scrantona Beach. Scrantona Beach sounds like a destination to me.
I'll take Scranhattan.
I'll also take all the attention that Joe and Hillary and The Office can bring to one pretty neat city.
To put a period at the end of this post, I was in Scranton early this morning paying a visit to my old pals Daniels&Webster, Dave, and Ruth, leaving town around 10:00 AM. Before putting Scranhattan in my rear view, I had to swing by City Hall, the Treasurer's Office. I got a parking ticket. Pay it within 24 hours and it's only ten bucks. And so I did. I overtime-parked, I deserved the ticket, I paid the ticket, I did not complain. In fact, I had a nice gab with several women in the Treasurer's Office, mostly about doggies and kitties. What else, right?
OK, Mayor Doherty, you are doing one heck of a job efficiency-wise nailing overtime parkers, which well you should.
How about doing something, ANYTHING, with Lackawanna Avenue. The city's original "main drag" is an absolute disgrace. That new $900 crown in my mouth felt like it was going to blow out, hit the windshield, and bounce back and embed itself in my face. Seriously, Mayor Chris, Lackawanna Avenue is an embarrassment. Twice in two weeks I drove the "Burma Road" that Lackawanna Avenue has become, and twice in the last two weeks I've wondered how it can continue to be neglected.
Still, I'll take Scranhattan...
I'll also take all the attention that Joe and Hillary and The Office can bring to one pretty neat city.
To put a period at the end of this post, I was in Scranton early this morning paying a visit to my old pals Daniels&Webster, Dave, and Ruth, leaving town around 10:00 AM. Before putting Scranhattan in my rear view, I had to swing by City Hall, the Treasurer's Office. I got a parking ticket. Pay it within 24 hours and it's only ten bucks. And so I did. I overtime-parked, I deserved the ticket, I paid the ticket, I did not complain. In fact, I had a nice gab with several women in the Treasurer's Office, mostly about doggies and kitties. What else, right?
OK, Mayor Doherty, you are doing one heck of a job efficiency-wise nailing overtime parkers, which well you should.
How about doing something, ANYTHING, with Lackawanna Avenue. The city's original "main drag" is an absolute disgrace. That new $900 crown in my mouth felt like it was going to blow out, hit the windshield, and bounce back and embed itself in my face. Seriously, Mayor Chris, Lackawanna Avenue is an embarrassment. Twice in two weeks I drove the "Burma Road" that Lackawanna Avenue has become, and twice in the last two weeks I've wondered how it can continue to be neglected.
Still, I'll take Scranhattan...
