I came to the Quad Cities by way of Augustana College. A good chunk of Augie's student body hails from the Chicagoland area, including many of my college friends. Some of my friends really liked the Quad Cities, but most of them treated our area like some sort of backwoods prison camp they were forced to endure in order to get a decent education.
I know, right? It seems impossible that ANYONE could happily exist in a metropolitan area with only THREE major shopping malls and few if any daily traffic jams, but somehow, we unfortunate backwoods country folk manage to survive.
I always had a different take on the Quad Cities. Growing up in Galesburg, when the cool kids at my school talked about going to "the city" for the weekend, they didn't mean Chicago. They meant HERE. The QC is fancy big-city livin' compared to Galesburg. I remember the first day I ventured to Rock Island on my own, I turned the wrong way down the 7th Ave. one-way. About 72 people honked at me and I nearly wet my pants. I questioned whether I could ever hack life in such a big city.
Growing up, my family seldom traveled to the Quad Cities, but I knew a lot about the area thanks to QC television channels. I came to college with a bucket list already in mind. I wanted to eat at the Choice Smorgasbord. I wanted to see Orby the Super Van Man. I wanted to visit the Showcase Cinemas in Milan, buy records at Co-Op, and rent videos from Time Travellers.
My friends may have thought life in the QC was tortuous, but I loved the place -- and I still do. After graduation, I planted roots. The Quad Cities was plenty big for me, and life here has treated me just fine.
All this time, I've remained in Rock Island. Our town sometimes gets a bad rap, but I've always defended her. Rock Island's got amazing character. The hilltop area has great shops and eateries. The District has its highs and lows but will forever be my nightspot. Rozz Tox, Ragged, and Wake make the east end of downtown special. Broadway has some of the coolest homes in the Midwest. It's a town rich in culture and history. It's my home.
I love my neighborhood. My neighbor to the right barbecues every weekend and brings me ribs. My neighbor to the left doesn't speak a lick of English, but for years and without having ever been asked, he comes over in the middle of the night and rolls my trash to the curb. I like my neck of the woods.
But this week's been testing my allegiance to our town. A few days ago, I was playing with cats when my silent alarm system triggered. A quick glance at the cameras revealed someone trying to break into my garage in broad daylight. Based on the footage, I'm pretty sure it was the same kid who stole a package off my porch last week. This was deja vu, as last year someone tried a similar move and made off with my childhood bike. This time, I had a reinforced door, a spanky new security system, and a fast hand to 911.
My uninvited guest ran from the cops, but hopefully now realizes I'm not the easy mark he must've taken me for. Thanks to my security cams, we now have many stylish photos of him in action, so the cops have a good chance of tracking him down. But they may have bigger fish to fry.
It was three hours later when my world suddenly filled with sirens. A car chase in Davenport had made its way over the bridge and ended up careening through my neighborhood, as a speeding car followed by multiple cops barreled down my street at scary speeds. Thankfully, the cops cornered those idiots and caught most of them.
The next morning, it was a beautiful spring day that felt like a rebirth. Gentle rain on the sidewalk, birds chattering all around -- and, suddenly, rapid fire gunshots that had me heading for the basement. It was several blocks away, but still way too close for comfort.
I just don't get it. I don't understand hating someone enough to draw guns at 9 a.m. on a Tuesday. I don't understand the thrill of stealing a car or breaking into someone's garage or ripping stuff off a stranger's porch without guilt or remorse.
"We're living in a different world," a few people have told me, and sure, that may be true. Once upon a time, Elvis shaking his hips on TV was a global scandal. Today, Cardi B gives us graphic updates on the state of her nether-regions and we declare it an important moment of empowerment.
The world IS different. Change is inevitable, and if you don't think you should have to adapt, ask the Mayans or the Cahokia or any other stubborn lost civilization that refused to roll with the changes. But just because the world is different doesn't mean it has to be WORSE. I still believe most people are innately good. We've survived wars, depressions, derechos, divisive politics, and now a global pandemic. We're nothing if not resilient.
Is there an answer? Probably not an easy one, and I'm certainly no expert. But I'm not giving up on my community and neither should you. If you're a do-gooder, do a lot of it this week. If you're a do-badder, give it a rest. It's been a rough year, and we need to get back on track. I didn't just spend a lonely year indoors in order to NOW be too afraid to leave the house. Bad stuff's bound to happen now and again, but it shouldn't be the norm. We're better than this. The Quad Cities are better than this.
All I'm saying is give peace a chance. Be kind to your fellow man - or at the very least, leave their garages alone (FYI: it's EMPTY, people. Do I LOOK like the kind of guy who owns tools and sporting goods?)
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