Everybody wants to move to my town

 

Kiplinger's Personal Finance was hardly telling Boiseans anything new last summer when it ranked the city fourth among the nation's 10 best places to live, work and play. Over the last few years, we've gotten pretty used to being at or near the top of such lists:  Forbes, Money, National Geographic Adventure, Inc.com, MSN BestLife, Relocate America, Prevention Magazine -- they all love us. But love has its price.

When I moved back to Boise a while ago after 20 years of living overseas and on both U.S. coasts, the return started out well. The brain-like folds of the foothills were as I remembered them. Seeing the little stone house near Hyde Park where I used to live and play my sax to cassette tapes recalled old tunes and old times.

Our friends welcomed us back and warned us not to brave the wild “connector" road between downtown and the suburban metastasis. But the city's only mall was out there, so we who had survived San Francisco's Interstate 80 and the D.C. Beltway entered the easy-going connector -- and had to laugh.

Maybe in Boise, I thought, we'll find balance, a state of grace that by definition disallows too much driving and too much striving at the expense of family and friends.

The reporters are right who have come to praise the charms of Boise, one of America's fastest-growing cities. The 40 years' war over downtown -- to renovate or raze -- hasn't produced victory on either side, but the occupied territory looks good to me. I live in the nearby North End, a non-right-wing pocket of the state. Besides, libertarianism has its upside in this town: Bicyclists may legally run stop signs and don't have to wear helmets.

Yet all those “Best Places to Live" lists never adequately account for the true costs of living in these Best Places. The rankings give big points for cheap labor, but they generally play down the flip side, which is that wages are horrendous. In Boise as in many other Western cities, work opportunities often are a matter of bumping your head pretty quickly on the ceiling. But that's OK many Boiseans explain, because in return we can maintain our quality of life. That's the treasure we want to hoard, and loss of it is our constant fear.
 
So we like to believe that the economic downturn has a weird upside for places like Boise, where Micron Technology, the state's biggest private employer, announced it will lay off about 1,500 workers -- following 1,100 jobs lost there last summer. The trend continued as the parent company of the Albertson's supermarket chain announced it would outsource 80 Boise jobs to India. More startling was what happened to the employees of seven Round Table Pizza parlors: They showed up for their shifts, only to find that the restaurants had closed and they were out of work.

Since September 2007, the number of people on unemployment has doubled in the city, but even as the nation's latest recession brings pain, it also puts a brake on the destructive power of quick growth.

The reality, though, is that a town's positive qualities are always endangered.  Everyone knows the drill: population expansion, new development, sprawl, pollution, congestion, more crime. Especially in Western towns with a glowing media image like Boise, it's hard to imagine that the balance we treasure can survive.

Walking to meet my daughter after school, I think about the district's commissioners, who took the financial advice of an out-of-state consultant and tried to combine her neighborhood grammar school with others. The parents rose up and beat back that threat for the time being. Traffic is steady as I walk along this boulevard, reminding me that commuter traffic from growth to the north threatens to force the construction of wider roads through our historic residential district.

Strolling along, I wonder about all the wanderers like me, who once fled from places like Boise but later came back home in search of sanctuary. Are we trying to return to a place that never existed? The dream of the past is so often corrupted by the present. Is the sanctuary of the small-town West, its balance of family and work, just a mirage? Such thoughts are best shaken off.

I start to walk faster. My little girl might be wondering where I am.

Steve Bunk is a contributor to Writers on the Range, a service of High Country News. He is managing editor of Idaho Magazine in Boise, Idaho.

Moving back "home" to Boise
Heywood Williams
Heywood Williams
Nov 24, 2008 05:57 PM
In Kansas City, MO, for seven years, I made about 12K a year more as an administrative assistant in a large corporation than I ever made teaching as adjunct faculty at BSU. But when I retired in June of 06, I moved back home, to Boise. At first it was great to be home, but three months of the increased cost of living, increased polution (the view of the mountains behind the city was often obscurred almost to invisibility), and OMG! the horrendous traffic, convinced me to sell my little house and I moved to Heyburn, Idaho - which actually IS the best place to live in the world. At the moment.
Moving back home to Boise
Julianne Couch
Julianne Couch
Nov 25, 2008 09:13 AM
I fled Kansas City, MO about 16 years ago for Laramie, Wyo., which is still pretty darn wonderful. The good thing about not having many economic opportunities in a town is that when there's a downturn it is pretty hard to tell!
Boise: Call some place Paradise
Jeannie Patton
Jeannie Patton
Nov 25, 2008 03:31 PM
Y'all must remember the Eagles' tune of many years ago, The Last Resort. Final line: "Call some place Paradise--kiss it goodbye." I'm a Colorado native of 60+ years who lived in Steamboat Springs for 10 of those, and have been in Boulder for 24 years. I bought my condo in Steamboat for $36,000 in 1977--less than 600 square feet, one bedroom, walking distance to the gondola. I sold it in 1990 for a $10,000 profit. I learned that it sold again last year for more than a quarter million dollars, with no additional square footage and 30 years of use behind it.
 
In Boulder, my husband and I were just forced to sell our home because we can no longer afford to live in this county. Thanks to a couple of refinances, our little place that cost $96,000 in 1990 just sold for $387,000, but we pocked a very small piece of that pie. We can no longer afford to live in our middle class neighborhood due to under-employment woes, and have no illusions about a "best place to live" curse and what it brings, even to us relative old-timers.

The view doesn't pay the mortgage, and those of independent means win every time. Another old saying, with apologies to the original translation: The meek will inherit the dirt. Sorry if it sounds like sour grapes, but I just said goodbye to my home.
"Home" is a matter of perspective
Belinda Isley
Belinda Isley
Nov 26, 2008 10:57 AM
When I moved to Ketchum Idaho some 30 (OMG!) years ago I remember feeling like I'd landed in paradise. Besides the fresh air and natural beauty, there were no trafic lights, an easy-going attitude, "over-
achiever" meant you skied more than 100 days a year, and pet ownership was a requirement. Not long after my move, I sat in a local pub and was shocked as I listened to a long-time resident blast the place. "It's too damn crowded," he said. "There's talk of putting a traffic light on Main Street...now that beats all," he said as he sadly shook his head. "I'm movin' out -- goin' North where the air is clean and there's no damn traffic!" I was baffled. 13 years ago when I decide to leave Ketchum I heard myself talking about how much the place had changed "It's too crowded and the traffic is terrible." At that point Ketchum had two traffic lights.