One Week in Dayton Ohio, October 2002

I asked people for directions, and received the briefest possible replies. I asked at a lunch counter what was good today, and was told, "It's all okay." That's Dayton people for you; nothing's terrible, and nothing's great. It's all a gray miasma of indifference.

I went downtown, looking for some enthusiasm about this charming town. Nuthin'.

Everybody seems walled off, as if sleep-walking through a dream of being somewhere else. I walked down to the riverfront, which features long walkways beside the water. Kids on motocross bicycles tore around, doing jumps and skids. At least they showed some animation. But like calves frisking in a pasture, they seemed doomed to become as vacant and disinterested as their elders.

I wandered over to the wrong side of the tracks, hoping to find any passion at all. A guy flashed a laminated card at me and said, "I'm a panhandler. Can you spare a dollar?" I told him no, and he calmly said, "Damn, well, okay," and walked off. Being destitute is barely enough to make somebody in Dayton swear, I guess.

At least people here know how to compartmentalize...

I really don't get it.

This is a pretty town, with great bones. All it lacks is some affection from its citizens.

Look, people, if you're so unhappy here that you wasted this week in a self-induced trance, maybe you should get up the nerve to move. It's not that hard. Load up a U-Haul and drive to Oregon (it's a lot easier now than it was in the 1850's) or Taos or Metairie, or maybe get yourself a passport and try living in Florence or Hokaido. But don't sleep-walk around Dayton without seeing what a nice town it is.

This city deserves much better than you're delivering.