Monday, August 19, 2013

Fight Or Flight

The days drift by
They don't have names
None of the streets here look the same
And there's so many quiet places
Smilin' eyes match the smilin' faces

And I have found me a home
I have found me a home
You can have the rest of everything I own
'Cause I have found me a home
The recent trend in the Blogosphere of the Wold is to assign monikers to teams involved in our little skirmishes, or at least deprecating ones to those holding the opposing position and this seems like fun so for the purpose of this diatribe we shall do the same. In the first corner the formerly retired champion making a comeback is the contingency known as "More Dunwoody Than You" aka "Mo Wood" and in the opposing corner the young upstarts, Dunwoody's collective agents of change, our very own Cheese Hunters extraordinaire, the "Jeezer Cheeser".

What has Mo Wood back in the ring facing Jeezer Cheeser is a skirmish over a skirmish, specifically the "Battle for Dunwoody". Mo viewed the conflict between Dunwoody and Dekalb in simple terms with clearly stated, limited objectives much like Stormin' Norman in the first Gulf "war". Once the City was established and our taxes stayed here payin' for Police, patchin' potholes and pavin' parks they considered the war over. Job well done, but more importantly, job DONE.

Jeezer, young and hotheaded was more like Patton and seems in it to never win it, to never say that the last battle is fought and won, but to slog on in a never ending campaign to battle against what he sees as the forces of evil. By and large this means anyone who wants to keep Dunwoody a sleepy little Bettendorf. Just a bit too quaint for Jeezer. Plus Jeezer is a fighter and is itchin' to take all comers.

Mo's position has the merit of simplicity: Mo "bought into Dunwoody" when it was a sleepy bedroom community and though Jeezer cannot believe and will have none of it, actually LIKED it that way. Mo's complaint with DeKalb was the same as his issue with Jeezer which is that DeKalb and now Jeezer want to take away the life Mo has vested interest and much money in.

Jeezer is the more complex creature even to the point of incredible. It isn't clear how Jeezer got to Dunwoody, given there were no real secrets about the "Dunwoody sense of place" but we'll go out on a limb and suggest that Jeezer has close family members held hostage who will be killed should he leave the Wold. We're romantics like that.

Now Jeezer is promoting himself as the next new thing, heavy emphasis on "new" as Jeezer is an evangelist for the inevitability of change. Jeezer has clearly never been to Darien CT where the good folk living there have kept the clock rolled back to the mid 1950's. That fine existence proof notwithstanding Jeezer is hell bent on change, his change and not just for himself but for Mo and everyone watching from the stands.

But Jeezer is facing Mo's rope-a-dope and wearing himself out. Even in these early rounds many of his formerly ardent supporters are losing hope and more importantly faith in his mission and his tactics. They are asking of themselves the same question others are asking of Jeezer: if the hostage story isn't true, why fight--isn't flight the most efficacious option?

And many are seriously considering that option. Upon finding that Dunwoody isn't their nirvana, not the Hell's Cherubs Home of Cycling, not the tree-hugger's paradise, not the neo-urban funk capital and certainly not a haven for folk-artsy folk who take their Hippocratic Oath of Ecology VERY seriously they are voting with their feet.  And what's to stop them? Dunwoody fared better than most in the recent real estate crunch and as it turns out there are many places nearby in the Metro area that actually ARE what Jeezer wants to force Dunwoody to become. So a brief analysis of "time left on the planet" vs "fight for something I can migrate to" is leading many to the path of migration. Maybe Dunwoody is Smart after all.
Most of the people who retire in Florida
Are wrinkled and they lean on a crutch
And mobile homes are smotherin' my Keys
I hate those bastards so much
I wish a summer squall would blow them all
The way up to fantasy land
Yeah they're ugly and square, they don't belong here
They looked a lot better as beer cans

Yeah, and that's why it's still a mystery to me
Why some people live like they do
So many nice things happening out there
They never even seen the clues
Whoa but we're doin' fine, we can travel and rhyme
I know we been doin' our part
Got a Caribbean soul I can barely control
And some Texas hidden here in my heart