A common question I'm asked when I meet someone from Minneapolis or St. Paul is "Where do you live?"
"Lakeville."
"Where exactly is that?"
I'm always disappointed that my urban acquaintances know very little of the suburbs surrounding their city. But I'm never more disappointed than when urbanites spout clichéd opinions about suburban living.
Not long ago a Facebook friend posted her feelings on the blandness of the suburbs, positing on the beige-ness of every house, the only difference in color being "beige, taupe, buff, butter, mushroom, ecru, linen and bone." And she pronounced all of them ugly. I must admit, the statement really hurt. I happen to live in a beige house.
So forgive me if I sound defensive when I say that I live in the suburbs and I love my community, cream-colored houses and all.
I didn't grow up in the city or even the suburbs. I grew up in small-town Iowa. When I moved north to the Twin Cities metro, the suburbs felt to me like the big-bad city. Now I've lived in Lakeville for the past 30 years and I've become used to taking flak from urbanites. I've heard the suburbs defined as a place where they cut down all the trees and then name the streets after them, where diversity is a home that costs less than $250,000. My urban friends have said "they still love me even though I live in the suburbs."
I've discovered that every suburb is distinct and has its own personality. Too often those who know little about the suburbs group all of them under the same label. But lumping all the suburbs together is like lumping Minnesota, North Dakota, Wisconsin and Iowa under the same banner. (And no one I know would do that!)