I just realized I missed noting my 2,100th entry a few months back. I think I’m going to switch to noting every thousand at this point and rename to “hundred” tag to “big round number,” or something like that.
It’s my penultimate work day in Richmond. I’m off Friday, and I plan on doing nothing constructive beyond seeing Bill before he enters the next chapter of his life in Kansas.
Earlier this week, traveled around 2007 Richmond in Google Street View. There were times when I got excited because I remembered that something was a weedy lot or an abandoned building or a bar I loved.
I picked 2007, which also is a far back as you can go on Street View, because I formally met Richmond a decade ago.
As I’ve mentioned many, many times, as I kid, I wanted to visit Richmond because it was the state capitol and only was 75 miles away. I didn’t get to go until 20 years ago when my father died. The next time, not including driving through city limits on two trips and going to the State Fair when it was in Henrico County, was in college when I saw The Roots play in Kanawah Plaza. And then my fraternity did some volunteer work in the Fan.
I didn’t really go into the city my first year in Petersburg. My friendship with some high school classmates fell off while we were in college, and Bill and Craig generally stuck around either my place in or Bill’s parent’s house in Chester or Craig’s parent’s house in Powhatan County.
2007 was when I really started experiencing the city. It was my first real impression.
Since then, I’ve seen couch fires on Hell Block, drank in the seediest of bars, woke up in weird places, ate amazing food, made great friends, experienced amazing audio and visual art, briefly became a social media influencer and fully embraced how delightfully weird what went from Cap City to RVA was. I made it my home.
In 2011, I figured it was time to leave.
It was a combination of things: I figured I had carried the Hopewell paper as far as my inexperience could. I set a good framework, I figured, so it was time for someone to take it to the next level. My relationship status changed, so moving to New York also because a goal. And people were starting to leave. That year also was when I ditched my 10-year high school reunion to throw Bill a farewell party.
And the city was changing.
People started to not call Hell Block Hell Block. There were fewer reports of furniture fires, my favorite seedy bar became a trendy restaurant with an event space that wasn’t that bad but wasn’t quite the same. Parties shifted to my place — and were awesome — but I would waver between wanting to keep the dynamic with me, Matt and Shaunelle forever and thinking about how one day the three of us would wake up one day at 35 years old and wonder how and why we were still there.
Those vacant lots became apartments, condos and more restaurants. Places became cleaner and safer. Homes were flipped. Entire trendy neighborhoods popped up like mushrooms overnight.
My departure didn’t go as planned. After a stutter-step, I was gone for three years.
I was excited to return in 2015, but the world kept spinning. Richmond continued its path away from having that gritty but endearing edge, at least in its core. More of my friends moved away or the relationship died. A lot of my old haunts vanished. I felt too old for others. Even more just no longer felt the same. The strange cast of characters all but disappeared. The death of Dirtwoman seemed to be the end of an era.
The magic was gone. Richmond just became I place where I lived. I guess that happens to all places. I realized I didn’t need to be here, like in the middle of it all. I considered moving to the West End when our lease ended. Sure, walking to do a lot of my errands is great, but I don’t need it. I rarely go out anymore. Parties and/or wanton partying happen like every other month now or maybe less frequently. No one on Twitter cares what I have to say about #rva anymore. And I’m married and we’re thinking about kids very soon. I’ve had several rants about how we were putting our kinds at least in a better part of the Richmond’s zoned schools to help them get into the better middle and high schools later.
Meanwhile, I never stopped reading the paper in Charlottesville. I constantly was in contact with various people in the newsroom. I sometimes wished I never left, but it seemed like this move here was permanent and it made no sense to me for someone on a newspaper’s management team to live an hour away in another paper’s coverage area. It wasn’t time to go just yet, and I’m glad that I got the chance to come back
But this doesn’t mean I hate being here in Richmond, although I’m not sad about leaving in a little while. What bums me out is that Richmond and I grew apart.
By all means, come here. Live, work, play. It’s awesome. It’s just not where I am, at least right now.