This Side of Providence

Okay, I must admit to my infatuation with the works of F. Scott Fitzgerald and the high culture which he often described with tantalizing detail – hence, the title. But my words here should not appeal solely to those persons who wish that they could count Amory Blaine and Nick Carraway among their friends.

You might think that it is unnecessary to harp one more time, in one more article, on the idea that there is much to do and see in Providence other than to visit the vaunted Thayer Street and behold its indie pretensions. But it is not.

Ask yourself this question right now, and be honest: Have you ever been to the Westminster Arcade? If not, then slap yourself. The oldest remaining enclosed shopping mall in the United States is located a mere four blocks from the Rockefeller Library. My conservative heart yelps every time that I observe its sheer majesty, as for a brief moment I am brought back to a time when people knew and respected their history – and wore three-piece suits with pocket watches attached.

Maybe your experience will be different from mine, but the fact remains that, after returning to College Hill, you will have had an experience truly unique. You will have embraced a part of life and culture that so frequently goes unnoticed in a modern world where man has a penchant for perpetual tunnel vision and rat-race values.

Please confirm that you have at least been to Waterplace Park. A native of the littlest state, though from the Town of East Greenwich, I remember a time when Providence was somewhat comparable, in urban beauty, to Gary, Indiana. The City today is nothing short of phenomenal, especially if you broaden your experiences by leaving our campus enclave with any regularity.

Waterplace Park is among the many urban parks – all within several blocks of Brown – that can truly beautify the soul. To read a book next to the water on a quiet weekend afternoon, or in the early evening of a weekday, is to speak with the gods and the hallowed dead, the whispers from whom have always pierced my eardrums. The daring in our midst may even want to prick the establishment by going for a swim, though slurred speech would preferably accompany such a venture.

Then there is Burnside Park, a more public version of Waterplace Park, in that quiet contemplation is not as easy to achieve. But it is still a remarkably well-kept and verdant location. I have a slight bias in favor of this park due to my familial relation to its namesake, although one visit to its park benches should prove that we have a precious treasure approximately 10 minutes from Brown by foot, and less than five by bicycle.

Moreover, The Providence Journal published an editorial this summer (“Burnishing Burnside Park”, July 26) which made reference to the concerted effort to magnify the park’s charms and to minimize its salty aspects. A new age of loafing and loitering will hopefully be upon us, so that the twin evils of cheap culture and barren individualism shall in fact sound the trumpet that calls retreat.

Right next to Burnside Park is the Biltmore. The hotel lobby is august and gorgeous, reminiscent of the hotels that Fitzgerald and his wife, Zelda, frequented throughout those Roaring Twenties. If only smoking were permitted!

I suppose that imbibing the spiritual liquor of the lobby could grow old at some point, which is why you should bring some work to do as you drink a coffee at the adjacent Starbucks. You have patronized a Starbucks location other than the one on Thayer Street, right? Go to the Biltmore store just once, and the fireplace will have you addicted.

And what of the Athenaeum? You go often, right? It is one block from our main campus library! Though you would need to be a member to check out books – membership costs only 30 dollars for a full-time college student, however – any person can visit, read the periodicals, do schoolwork, and look through the collections (which include many volumes of magnificent poetry just waiting to be saved from obscurity by a curious mind). If you have never experienced the Athenaeum, then go. Now.

Perhaps you will visit and even frequent the many cultural centers that I have described here. Perhaps you will write me off as a nut with the wrong priorities, who should embrace the uptight Thayer Street atmosphere. After all, is not it truly “Brown” to sit in the Thayer Street Starbucks, while typing furiously with your computer and observing the Soviet-esque Sciences Library?

Well, no. The one secret known only to Brown students is that, in fact, each of us is different. Embrace this, please.