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Love (or not) at First Sight

The Source

It was love at first sight. Our plane came in low toward London’s Heathrow airport and below us we saw row after garden-lined row of thatch-type rooftops, gradually giving way to a maze of streams and grasslands. It was my first trip to Europe and my first impression is one that still sticks with me. When you fly into Paris the plane doesn’t cruise over any of the city, but the French countryside is equally inviting, and the approach to the Rome airport takes you over rolling hills, making you wonder if there’s any city to be found among all the greenery. Other cities have similarly welcoming approaches . . . Dublin, Madrid, Sydney. Then there are the others . . . . Approaching the state airport at Moscow is like diving into a kettle of Burgoo. What you can see of the smog-fogged landscape is nothing but mile after gray mile of industrial smokestacks crammed tight against cookie-cutter high-rise apartments. Even Stalin knew it was an unappetizing entry to town when he ordered the city’s underground subway tunnels to be turned into works of art. He felt that when Ivan and Natasha went to work in the morning they needed something to inspire them. Our closest metropolis, St. Louis, gives the first-time visitor a sweeping vista of the broad Mississippi and most approaches to the Gateway City afford a pleasing mix of cornfields and city lights. First impressions are lasting and the big city on the river shows itself well. Which brings me to how we do locally. If a new visitor to our nearby towns make a snap judgment based upon their first view, what do we show them? My little town of Arenzville does well from the east, west, and north, but the southern approach is truly spectacular. Several years ago someone built a new bridge and approach from the south, and while this engineering marvel has resulted in one of the most dangerous stretches of road in Cass County, the vista afforded the traveler is pretty darned idyllic and something that would have pleased both Norman Rockwell and Grandma Moses. A few other surrounding towns show themselves off well upon first viewing. Franklin sort of rises up out of the prairie when approached from the north, and Virginia displays itself nicely as it stretches in all four directions. Woodson lives up to its name as “woods” are all the passing motorist can see, and Murrayville is charming in the way it has refused to let the department of transportation straighten out its highway’s snaking path. Some towns could stand a bit of revamping. Roodhouse is a sweet little throwback to Mayberry but the passing motorist sees only the tavern, a few gas stations and the railroad track. Places like New Berlin have never been seen at all since the advent of the Interstate. So . . . what about dear old Jacksonville? If you were a first-time visitor to our town, what conclusions would you draw from your approach to the city? A visitor from the east gets treated to industry and prisons, and while both are blessings to our economy, they don’t exactly say, “Hey! Stop and stay the night!” Motoring in from the north the town sort of creeps up on you like a pair of old underwear. The rolling prairielands dissolve into to a few houses then oh-so gently, the town itself. Approaching from the west, Jacksonville sort of blasts into your face all at once. There’s no town, then suddenly yes town. Our town’s western border is the only one that seems to have a straight line drawn at the boundary. Which leaves the southern approach and here you have two options. You can enter up old 67 by the drive-in movie (showing my age) or the new superslab four-lane. Both have their advantages. The old route has its scenic features with the South Jacksonville businesses well tended and neat. If you enter town via the four-lane you’re dumped out onto the west end of Morton Avenue and if the sun has gone down the town’s yellowish streetlights fairly twinkle in the distance. Fact is, it’s one of the more charming views of the Elm City. Bottom line: we do well on average and if the eastern approach seems too sterile then a short hop over to the old state road or U.S. 36 will ease you more gently toward Jacksonville. A couple of my favorite Illinois entryways are Hillsboro from the west and Peoria from the south. Hillsboro looks as if someone has painted the town onto the hillside, and the view from Interstate 74 of the Murray Baker Bridge and Peoria at night is truly breath taking. Every town has a backyard that the citizens would rather stay hidden, but it’s nice when your first view is a doozy.