Blog — Paul Heinz

Paul Heinz

Original Fiction, Music and Essays

The Suburban Myth

The mythology of suburbia is thick, with mountains of publications spreading the idea that the burbs are an endless landscape of plazas and McMansions where free spirits are forced to conform and where people living not 25 feet from their neighbors live in lonely isolation.  Books have been published about it.  Sermons given.  Songs written.

I love the vintage Anne Taintor magnets that satirize the suburbs, usually through the eyes of a 1950s housewife.  My favorite is of a woman washing dishes who declares, “If by ‘happy’ you mean trapped with no means of escape…?  then yes, I’m happy.”

The Rush song, Subdivisions, describes the suburbs as a place where creativity is a road to isolation:

Nowhere is the dreamer or the misfit so alone…

…Any escape might help to smooth 
The unattractive truth 
But the suburbs have no charms to soothe 
The restless dreams of youth 

These lyrics didn’t mean much to me when it came out in 1982, but as an adult I’ve become more enchanted by this idea of the “suburban dream,” a phrase usually uttered with a degree of irony.  I’ve heard people respond to the question, “How are things going?” with “Oh, you know.  Living the dream in suburbia.”

As with most myths, there’s a morsel of truth behind the sentiment that’s been exaggerated for effect.

As a teenager, I remember saying to friends, “If I ever considering mowing the lawn and doing the laundry achievements, shoot me.”  And yet, I’ve been doing just that for the last 16 years.  I’ve managed to get a few interesting things done as well, but there’s no doubt that a good day is a day when I get a bunch of chores done.  And as a parent who has sometimes fallen into the trap of scheduling my children’s lives with activities from sunup to sundown, I really do think there is a danger that we are fast producing children who are being put into “little boxes” and who will “come out all the same.” (thanks Malvina Reynolds for your satirical look at the burbs).

But I look around me at the ridiculous talents of the children in my community, be it in art or math, science or drama, music or social action endeavors, politics and athletics, and I conclude that the suburban myth of a sprawling landscape of individuality suppression is just that – a myth, applicable to some but not to others, just like any other mythology (consider the Wild West or of New York’s Broadway).

Sadly, there are lost souls in the suburbs, people who are misunderstood, misguided, underloved and uninspired.  But then there are many remarkable people already living out their futures.  Just yesterday I read about Dane Christianson, a 20 year-old student at Illinois IT, who recently invented a new take on the Rubik’s Cube and who looks to become a successful entrepreneur in 2014.

I won’t bother to tell you what I  was doing when I was twenty, but it surely had nothing to do with thinking.

Sure, I wish my neighborhood was a little more friendly.  We have a long way to go in the hospitality department.  I wish more would open their doors to the people who live next door or down the block from them.  I wish people walking their dogs would say hello when passing by.  I wish people wouldn’t drive their cars into their garages, not to be seen again until they leave their garages the next morning.  Things surely aren’t perfect.  And I’m saddened by the young souls who truly don’t fit in, often with tragic consequences.

But I’m no longer buying into the myth.  My kids are doing more interesting things with their teenage years than I did with mine.  A little too scheduled?  Probably.  But also not busily TPing houses on a regular basis the way I did (sure, it was a hell of a lot of fun, but was it constructive?).

If my life adds another reason to buy into the suburban myth, so be it.  It isn't too shabby.

The True Sign of Aging: Smarter Kids

As the parent of two sixteen year-olds, I recognize that my perceived IQ is going to plummet precipitously over the next five years or so, only to rebound nicely in time for my daughters’ graduations from college.  This, I can accept, primarily because it’s temporary and because I’ll end up looking pretty good in the end.

I can also accept that I recently had to purchase my first pair of reading glasses and that the suit I purchased in 1993 is becoming tight in the mid-section. 

What I can’t accept is the true sign of aging: having kids that are far smarter than I am or ever will be.  And this has nothing to do with grades and tests.  Sure, both of my daughters did better on their practice ACTS than I did on my actual exam, but they’ve also taken classes that begin with the words “honors” and “AP,” and they tend to engage in activities such as completing assignments and studying.  Well, sure, anyone can do well on his ACT if he prepares for it.  Where’s the challenge in that?

No, the true sign of my kids’ superior intelligence was exhibited on Labor Day, when my family got together with friends and agreed to play a game of Pictionary – children vs. adults.  I am humbled and ashamed to reveal that my opponents were three-quarters of the way through the board before my team reached the first square!  We managed to shrink the margin of defeat before our kids completed their victory dance, but in truth, the adults – to borrow President Obama’s description of the 2010 midterm election – took a shellacking

Yes, I drew a Christmas tree about as well as my daughter did, but that didn’t help my team guess any quicker.  And my game partner learned that drawing nothing to help us guess the word “nothing,” wasn’t as successful as drawing something and then drawing a line through it, as our opponents did.  Even my 11 year-old son, who I would hope to be lagging somewhat on the intelligence front, portrayed “time zone” perfectly, sketching the Earth, drawing vertical lines through it, and then adding a clock for good measure. 

That’s right.  My sixth grader successfully drew “time zone.”  My team couldn’t even get “yield sign.”

Which is why from now on, I’m going to exercise my superiority over my children the only way I know how: ping-pong.

Copyright, 2024, Paul Heinz, All Right Reserved

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