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The soul of suburbia has a sweet sameness

By ERNEST HOOPER
Published March 2, 2007

Soulless.

Time and again, the word is used to characterize life in suburbia, and I can only ask one question: Why the hate?

My life and my community - and it is a community - isn't defined by old-fashioned houses, kitschy clothing shops or sidewalk cafes. Sure, most every house in my neighborhood is beige, and my home's design has been repeated at least 150 times in the area.

But soulless?

My friend across the street is Turkish. Thanks to him, I now know the taste of kofte and the joy of playing soccer with people from every corner of the globe.

Next door, I can occasionally get paella made with chorizo from southern Spain, and every year we have Thanksgiving dinner together.

Two houses down, there's a Seffner native - see, everyone isn't from someplace else - who brings me chicken soup when I'm under the weather.

Speaking of soup, my kids' football program is a wonderful stew of cultures. Conversations touch on world politics, not just the starting quarterback. And there's a cricket field within walking distance of my house.

My advice: Judge me not by the color of my home, but by the colorful personalities of my neighbors.

Or better yet, don't judge me at all. If you like city life, great. Now, put down the Haterade and lose the laments about sprawl, malls and chain restaurants.

Sure, we have our problems in suburbia, but isn't the quirky, offbeat existence you lead in SoHo, Seminole Heights or Beach Park enough to keep you happy? Does true enlightenment mean convincing everyone that your 'hood is better than my cul-de-sac?

Don't get me wrong. I'm not down on Tampa. I get envious every time I drive to Davis Islands. West Tampa is on the verge of becoming the hip and artsy urban redevelopment planners write about in books.

I long for a vibrant downtown with a mix of young and old, rich and poor, that's fun to visit on a Friday night.

We live in suburbia so we can go into the city every once in awhile and have a good time. Otherwise, we would move to Sopchoppy or Two Egg.

As a former NFL writer who visited 28 cities, my appreciation for urban life goes beyond Tampa.

In the city, you see different people almost every day and bond at a certain level with strangers. You never know who you might meet on the T in Boston, at the Mall in Washington or in a Times Square restaurant.

Compare that to life in Brandon, and there is a higher degree of sameness. But, for me, familiarity doesn't breed contempt.

I like walking into the Seffner Pizza Hut and hearing the assistant manager, Joe, call my name. I appreciate that Maureen, the waitress, always stops to say hello.

At the Jiffy Lube, I get an oil change and an update on the assistant manager's upstart music career. Over at CocoRam's, Mr. Ramos serves up some of the best homemade ice cream in West Central Florida.

Somehow, the ladies behind the deli counter at the Publix on Kingsway always end up making me laugh, and the bag boy, Josh, is a neighbor.

I can call my barber Eric at E-Clips and say, "I gotta be on TV tonight, squeeze me in."

Maybe suburbia lacks architectural character, but it makes up for it in human characters. Comfort thrives and contentment lives because I can walk into the Brunchery and tell Kevyn I'll take the usual.

The appeal of suburbia is built on simple pleasures and a slower life.

Sure, I wish we had a community park with a gazebo where the Brandon High School band could have a concert one night and the Florida Orchestra could perform the next evening. We could use a few more locally owned restaurants, and Brandon needs a defining community event.

But to call this place soulless belies its sense of togetherness. The Brandon/South Shore area we know today has existed for only 15 or 20 years, if that. Boston, Chicago and New York had 200-plus years to get to where they are and have yet to achieve perfection.

So give us time, and give us a break. Let us come into the city every once in awhile without having to hear about the mundane life of the 'burbs, and we won't once utter the phrase "intellectual snob" when you go horseback riding in Dover or canoeing on the Alafia River.

That's all I'm saying.

Ernest Hooper also writes a column for the Tampa & State section. He can be reached at hooper@sptimes.com or 813 226-3406.

[Last modified March 1, 2007, 07:59:53]