There's a habit among Salt Lake locals to joke about "Small Lake City," typically in reference to running into someone they know while out and about in town but also used in any number of ineffably "small-town" experiences. And it can denote a couple different emotions—from the awkward embarrassment of crossing paths with an ex-partner to the kismet charm of encountering old friends at old (and new) haunts.
To be clear: I'm into highlighting our connections and not suggesting we stop. In fact, beginning with next week's special issue of City Weekly—in which we'll kick off a 40-week rewind through our archives counting up to our ruby anniversary in the spring—this column will cease being "The Streets" and will become "Small Lake City," a space for weekly conversations on hyperlocal topics by various writers.
Those writers need not necessarily be internal to the City Weekly staff and its regular contributors, though outside submissions will be held to a higher editorial standard (and discretion) than traditional letters to the editor, which appear in the Soap Box on Page 4. Email bwood@cityweekly.net for additional information.
But I digress. With regard to the phrase "Small Lake City," I can't help but strain when I hear some who negatively imply that it's bizarre or atypical to run into acquaintances, or that the "small" vibe is damning evidence of us not being a "real" city yet. Far from it—it's a sign of a healthy and increasingly thriving city.
There's a concept described as "sidewalk ballet" by the urbanist writer Jane Jacobs, which encompasses and values the repeated rhythms of a person's lived experience. Sidewalk ballet is that neighbor who tends to water their flowers while you walk your dog; it's the mail carrier, delivery person or bus driver who you come to recognize, it's the children and families whose morning routes intersect with yours.
Looking at it from a higher level: it's Twilight concerts or ice skating at Gallivan Plaza; it's the 999 bike ride; it's a burger at Lucky 13 or mole at Red Iguana; it's the International Market or Craft Lake City at the state fairgrounds; it's Pride, Days of '47 and Pie N' Beer; it's bumper-to-bumper traffic at the Chick-fil-A drive-thru and the intense schadenfreude of walking (or biking) straight through it.
That feeling of "Small Lake City" is predicated on people being out and about in their city—enjoying it, exploring it, living in it and yes, occasionally, being deeply frustrated with it. And while variety is the spice of life, sidewalk ballet is the bread and butter.
Society and the media will always tend to focus on "kitchen table issues"—the big, hot topics you fight with your uncle about at Thanksgiving. That's all well and good, but in Small Lake City there are no small topics, only small column spaces.