(Ed. Note: Today’s article is by new contributing writer Robert Farago, who introduces himself as . . . A media maven since the tender age of 13, Robert Farago began his professional career as a videotape editor for CNN. After years of quasi-faithful service, Atlanta’s alternative newspaper hired Farago as its Managing Editor. Following a life-changing parachute accident, Farago moved to London to write freelance articles for major publications. Many years later, he returned stateside to create several successful blogs. When he’s not motorcycling through the Smoky Mountains, the RI-born writer hangs his hat in downtown Knoxville. His current blog is The Truth About Everything)
At the end of the Wizard of Oz, the Good Witch informs Dorothy she always had the power to return home. “You just had to learn it for yourself,” Glinda announces. To which Dorothy replies…
Learn it? How was that supposed to happen? Osmosis? And where were you, glamorous Glinda, while I was dealing with the freak show you guys run around here? Too right there’s no place like home. Flying monkeys? This place makes Kansas look like paradise, and that’s saying something.
Discovering Knoxville, I had the same reaction. You mean I didn’t have to live in Atlanta, London and Austin (to name a few). I could have come straight here? Believe me, I would have moved to Marble City thirty years ago if I’d known this city’s appeal. That said, the Knoxville of thirty years ago was a very different place. The word I’ve heard to describe the downtown of days gone by is “sketchy.”
And? I would’ve enjoyed watching Knoxville’s transformation from a decaying relic of its industrial past into a vibrant vessel of its now bright future. Or something like that. Something very much unlike my last port of call, Austin, Texas.
I won’t say I moved to Knoxville to escape what Austin has become: a congested high-tech hub populated by tech bros and their LuluLemon-loving counterparts. A city surrounded by soulless suburban sprawl that’s busy spreading like Kudzu, boasting big box boredom and cookie-cutter conurbation.
I will say Austin antipathy is only partly responsible for my move. Knoxville’s charms are the other, more important half of that equation. Not to put too fine a point on it, Knoxville is cooler than my last residence. Especially but not exclusively in terms of ambient temperature and culture.
Austin’s stratospheric heat index brings to mind Davy Crockett’s famous pronouncement after losing reelection in Tennessee’s 12th congressional district. “Since you have chosen to elect a man with a timber toe to succeed me, you may all go to hell and I will go to Texas.”
The obvious retort: ableist! And while we’re at it Mr. Coonskin Cap, Texas is actually hotter than hell. Maybe wait until they invent air conditioning? Meanwhile, we’ll be here enjoying what are commonly called seasons.
As for the cultural comparison between the two cities, Knoxville holds a distinct advantage: its small, big city. Its vibrant food, music and art scene isn’t as large as Austin’s, but it’s far more accessible. Approachable. Personal. Personally, I see Knoxville as a place where a transplanted writer can make his mark without having to feel like he has to make his mark.
Yada yada yada. Here’s the number one reason I left Austin: motorcycling. When my Ridiculously Random Motorcycle Tour chanced upon the mountains surrounding this berg, I was hooked like a well-caught bluegill. I’m not talking about the world-famous serpentine death trap known as The Dragon’s Tail. I’m referring to the roads less traveled. The long lonely two-lane twisties wending their way through the Smokies.
Knoxville is the perfect home base to explore my happy place. And so, I’ll end this painful polemic here, hop on my Bimmer and head out, knowing I’ll return to an excellent dinner in handsome historic surroundings, then retreat to Alchemy for a celebratory stogie. And make new friends.
I choose to ignore the Wizard of Oz’s self-deprecating admonition to pay no attention to the man behind that curtain. I try to live by his subsequent sage advice. “A heart is not judged by how much you love, but by how much you are loved by others.”
I love this place. Here’s hoping it loves me back.