A Personal Essay on Alexandria (Part One of Four)

I moved back to Alexandria during the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. My mother had been operating a residential property management company, which she essentially inherited from my father, who passed away four years prior.

For several months, she was overwhelmed with phone calls from people who needed places to live, which we were able to accommodate, because the turn-over rate was so high.

I hadn’t possessed any intention of moving back to Alexandria. I was working in Houston, and at the time, I was considering applying for positions in Los Angeles. In fact, like many in my generation, I often told people that I would never return to Alexandria.

I wasn’t being arrogant or dismissive about my hometown. My generation is simply more transient, more prone to recognizing the limitless geography provided to us by air travel, more adept at adapting to new environments, more technologically-savvy (and relatedly, more connected to one another), and more curious about the “outside world” because of this. I wanted to be somewhere else because I recognized how easy it would be to be somewhere else– and because, let’s face it: Alexandria was not (and maybe still isn’t) appealing to young people.

But I came back. And I’m not trying to sound heroic or anything; the situation worked itself out for me. It made financial sense, and I knew I was needed. Plus, even though I can live independently, I can drive myself to work, and I can walk without support, I still have a very mild physical disability, so it helps to be around friends and family.

That said, I definitely had a tinge of resentment about Alexandria.

My father died when I was a teenager. He was an alcoholic who was diagnosed with and treated for bipolar disorder; he had been in and out of rehab on three separate occasions. He was always completely earnest in his attempts for recovery, but he had a debilitating psychological and chemical disorder that– despite his intelligence and his charisma– prevented him from recovering.

I know this may sound strange: But two weeks before he died, I knew he was going to die. It wasn’t some strange psychic phenomenon; I knew because I watched him, painfully, devolve.

His death, the result of a single car accident, was the lead story on the local news, and it was on the front page of the paper the next day. For reasons I could not understand then, as a teenager, my father’s death was a news story. People called into talk radio about him. The Town Talk requested pictures of the accident, toxicology reports, and even pictures of his corpse, and when my family sued to prevent the potential publication of this, they ran a story about us, essentially impugning his widow and her teenage children for demanding privacy over the untimely and tragic death of my father– who was a private citizen. (And I mean no offense to the current leadership and staff of The Town Talk, recognizing full well that the current “administration,” if you will, was not involved in any of these editorial or legal decisions). Obviously, it deeply hurt and offended me; it felt as if some were attempting to take a private tragedy and turn it into a sensational news story.

My father was a remarkable and exceptional person. He was valedictorian of his high school class, quarterback for the football team, and when he went to college, he was renowned as the top graduate in real estate. After college, with the help of his father, he started his own company, eventually employing more than fifty people. And I also understand that his success is why his death became news, though I will never understand the newspaper’s prerogative.

For me, the entire thing was very personal, which is why I resisted returning to Alexandria.

Plus, Alexandria seemed stagnant, complacent, and petty– a stubborn small town that refused to grow up and adapt. This was reinforced by a media of outsiders, people who reported on Alexandria but never learned to love Alexandria. There were no Edgar McCormicks– true champions of the City who preached about possibilities, not limitations. But there were plenty of people hoping to make a name for themselves by fanning the flames, both in the media and in the private sector.

Thankfully, throughout the past three years, I have learned to love Alexandria and its opportunities. I have learned to celebrate its assets and its potential, and I have learned that Alexandrians are some of the best, most civic-minded, and most progressive people in this nation– despite whatever impression one may have after reading the newspaper and its online forums.

We face many challenges ahead of us, including, importantly, how to address the voices of cynicism, skepticism, and blind-sighted ideology that have prevented us from truly capitalizing on our assets and realizing our potential.

But thankfully, I believe there are far more of us who believe in progressive and, when needed, aggressive change.