Different places make you feel different things. Some environments evoke opportunity and insight while others tend to veer toward a dysfunctional and immorlist attitude. I’ve just recently come to realize the almighty effects that the urban environment has on my psyche, work ethic and mood. One obtrusive angle or paint color on a building and I’m ready to impale someone with an I-beam.
As my favorite season blows in with its crisp falling leaves and the smell of something burning, I like to take my inside work outside. But lately I’ve been having trouble feeling comfortable and inspired within the environment of our dear city of Harrisonburg. Where can I sit to read and drink my hot cocoa without being bothered by the blaring of car stereos, the incessant drilling of construction sites or virulent couples necking obnoxiously?
In my search for the ideal architectural work of art and cultivator of artistic genius in Harrisonburg, I logically started with one of my favorite places: coffee shops. Maybe you have visited the recently opened Greenberry’s Tea and Coffee across from Memorial Hall. They make a mean pumpkin latte, but as soon as I step outside the shop and stare at what looks like a misshapen trailer accidentally dropped in a geometrically awkward parking lot, that latte doesn’t taste so good anymore. Sure, you could sit outside and watch traffic. Or maybe you could make a game out of how many people almost get hit by a car crossing the intersection of Grace Street. But the “terrace” offered by Greenberry’s is almost teetering on the edge of a curb—it’s not fun, it’s not aesthetically pleasing and it certainly isn’t conducive to doing anything productive.
There seems to be a triangle of Starbucks coffee in Harrisonburg: on campus, off Port Republic Road and in Barnes and Noble. But the stores’ outdoor areas aren’t very functional—I mean, when did painful metal lawn furniture become the norm? Perhaps I’m just spoiled after visiting the cafés in Europe, but I have no confidence in American conglomerate corporate coffee chains.
Alas, crawling around from caffeine withdrawal, I venture “downtown” (also known as one block of overpriced shops) to the Artful Dodger. They still have agonizing black deck furniture on their terrace, but thank God I have something artsy and intellectually stimulating to look at other than a parking lot—even though there’s hardly any greenery. Many drivers still think the streets of downtown Harrisonburg are just one big Nascar test drive, but I feel better here. Ah, yes, finally, a building with a sense of place. I think Virginia Woolf would agree; it takes a lot of effort to find a room of one’s own.
There are a lot of things to consider when finding a place for relaxation or sanctuary, more than if the place just looks good. A decay of public space, traffic-congested areas, environmentally destroyed lawns, social and cultural blandness and the general disregard for nature are all aspects of urban Harrisonburg (and most other American cities) that do not promote a healthy, communal lifestyle. Luckily, we have places like the Arboretum, some establishments downtown and the entire Shenandoah Valley to help us escape the depressing atmosphere nearest to us.
If the environment that surrounds our university reflects our expectations and perceptions of ourselves, we have some serious issues here. I hope we all can cultivate a deeper appreciation and sensibility for the areas that encourage and uplift us. For now, I’ll just sip my coffee and enjoy my favorite season on the demolition site formerly known as the Quad, gazing at the vibrant falling leaves while listening to the drone of bulldozers working across the street.
Traci Cox is a junior English major.
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