Thoughts on...When boom towns go bust

What happens when the American dream becomes the American nightmare? Gary, Indiana, that's what.

Today I had the opportunity to travel up to Gary to meet with some local leaders and take a tour of the area. For my MPA degree, we are required to take a capstone course that is a chance to put our skills to work on a practical project. In this particular capstone, our challenge is to make policy suggestions in an attempt to increase ties between IU (and especially IUB) in order to improve K-12 education in Northwest Indiana. Our professor thought it would be good for us to get some on-the-ground experience dealing with the area, thus the motivation for our trip today.

To say that there are vast differences between IUB and Gary is an understatement. A side-by-side comparison boggles the mind: how can it be that these two places exist within the same state, let alone the same country? I have been in third world countries before and literally, that is the closest thing that I have to compare to. Except that I honestly have to say that Mexico is much cleaner. The best summary of the area came not through any words, but an interesting circumstance: as we were driving down one of the main city streets, a garbage truck pulled out in front of us and a whole dumpster fell off the back of the truck. Literally, a whole dumpster.

The sad part is that it wasn't always this way. In fact, that is probably the most haunting part. This was a thriving community at one point, driven by the hand of big industry. All through downtown there is evidence of what was-run down facades of old concert halls where the Jackson 5 and Marvin Gaye used to perform. Businesses that once thrived are now covered by a shroud of metal grate and fiberboard. I closed my eyes and saw ladies in cinched-waist dresses fresh from hair appointments. Men with skinny ties in cars that got 8 miles to the gallon. People smile and wave and laugh and pray and work. There was a lot of work in those days.

I open my eyes and see the shadows of what was. The burnt-out ends of the means that were never enough. The need and the opportunity are enormous. And I am forced to remind myself that, after all, this is America. Never say never, perpetual optimist, upstart America. So forgiving as to be forgetful. So bold as to be rude. So prosperous that it took a Great Depression for us to convince ourselves that poverty among ordinary Americans is not always a character flaw. So idealistic that once we realized poverty existed, we waged a war on it, as if It were something we could bomb or smother out of existence. For many in Gary, the American dream lies smoldering in a twisted heap of rusted steel. And who knows how much soldering it will take to put it back together again.