Now, real life is imitating reel life. As The New York Times put it on Sept. 4, “Stay-at-home wives have often complained about the isolation of suburbia, working parents point to the killer commutes and teenagers moan about the boredom. Now Dr. Jackson believes there are persuasive, if yet circumstantial, links between the suburbs and certain physical and mental diseases.”
Yes, that must be why so many people are moving to the suburbs: Because life is so miserable there.
The fact is, most stay-at-home wives do so voluntarily. If they wanted to go back to the office, they could surely find childcare and do so. Most working parents accept their commute. If they thought it was too lengthy, they’d sell their house and move closer to work. And it’s safe to say that, no matter where they are, teenagers will always complain about being bored.
But life in the suburbs is said to be bad for more than our mental health; it’s supposedly inflating our waistlines as well. The Times report also lamented that in the ’burbs, “There is often simply no sidewalk, forcing some suburbanites to put on their running shoes and pedometers inside giant malls, clocking miles as they pass the various cookie stands, ice cream shops and bagel makers.”
Imagine that. We suburbanites are so soft and weak that we can’t resist the lure of a Cinnabon as we power walk in the mall. Yet somehow, Manhattan residents manage to walk past a Starbucks on every block without ducking in for a muffin. Maybe there’s something about city life that just makes you stronger.
Studies like this simply ignore the obvious: People live in the suburbs because they like it there. They could choose to live in a city, where often they would be closer to work and could walk to stores and shops. But they prefer the safety, security and affordability of suburban life.
Urban planners and health specialists can spin the data any way they want. They can tell us we’re unhappy and unhealthy because of where we live. But many of us have voted with our feet. We’re happy in the ’burbs, and we’re staying put.
To paraphrase the great Charlton Heston: “Dr. Jackson, you can pry my lawnmower out of my cold, dead hand.”