How Erie (PA) Started To Torture Me

As Erie (PA) has shown me, it was much easier being a coastal elite.

Back then, I could fly over or—worst case scenario—drive by the place.

Without knowing much, I could organize Erieites into at least one of three categories:

• Dumb
• Racist
• Poor

All problems were of their own making—those who lamented the economic conditions were free to move.

As a coastal elite, it was socially acceptable to ridicule fellow Americans based on something real or perceived—class.

Then, in 2010, I ruined everything.

That year, I voluntarily moved with my family to the Great Lakes, a euphemism, as you know, for the Rust Belt.

Suddenly, I was the one being flown over, meaning I had no choice but to turn to my right, then to my left, and take a moment to understand.

A decade and a half later, I’ve learned that my former self fell into at least one of three categories:

• Inconsiderate
• Ignorant
• Wrong

For cities to decline, they first have to achieve a measure of greatness. And through the rust, empty buildings, and cacophony of silence, I saw it.

The epiphany resulted in a smattering of blog posts, which has since morphed into a nascent book series.

And that’s when Erie (PA) started to torture me.

It’s one thing to build up Buffalo and Rochester and Syracuse (in the works).

But Erie, must you be so close?

You’re the one that Pennsylvanians thumb their noses at.

You get 104 inches of snow per year.

You’ve lost 31.5 percent of your population since 1960, and the bleeding continues. (Your 2020 population was down yet again, barely above the number in 1920.)

Apparently, one of your zip codes is among the poorest in the country.

As of 2021, your per-capita GDP was number 364—out of 382.

Yet there, buried under the ashes, I see beauty.

And that can mean only one thing—poor Amazon sees another book.

(Title image courtesy Wikimedia Commons)