While skimming local headlines last week I happened upon the news that those Sandy Springsteens living in the 30338 ZIP code can soon put “Sandy Springs” as their mailing address. They join those of us blessed souls in 30328, 30342 and 30350 who have been happily not having to scribble “Atlanta” in the return address.
I supposed this was a swell little bit of news — emphasis on little — until I saw where U.S. Rep. Tom Price (R-Ga.) praised this as increasing our “quality of life.” Beg pardon, good sir.
This elfin bit of news being puffed up that way reminds me of those ubiquitous tawdry televised awards shows where every actor interviewed on the red carpet is referred to as a “superstar.” This in spite of the fact their body of work appears on a cable channel most of us have never heard of.
If all we need do to increase our quality of life is to write “Sandy Springs” on our return address we must be damn proximate to heaven on earth.
One could take this to mean we have prevailed in the big battles and now we’re just adding some finishing touches. Have we routed the drug dealers and courtesans? Have the homeless found shelter? Have the jobless been restored to the ranks of the working class? Are the potholes filled? The traffic lights executing in concert? Over a ZIP code?
And let us also not neglect the fact there is an entire generation coming of age to whom envelopes and stamps are considered the hindmost resort when e-mail, instant messaging and text messaging are not available. So while this ZIP code novelty may be of note, I do not believe it causation for jubilee.
I think we all get invested in words a wee bit too much. We boast that we are “Southern by the grace of God.” Really? I don’t know what goes on in heaven before we are born but I have a problematic time believing any deity would favor certain new souls by funneling them into a geographic locale.
We have a friend who lives in the ZIP code for Dunwoody, but was once confronted at the grocery checkout by a harpy who informed her, regardless of her ZIP, she did not live in “Dunwoody proper.” Should I ever move I’m planning to look at homes in Dunwoody improper. I’ll bet they throw a mighty fine carousal out that way.
Please don’t misunderstand — I’m all for pride in our hometown — I am a steadfast Springsteen by the grace of a real estate agent, circa 1962. As we are the City of Sandy Springs, we should have the pleasure of employing the name of our little jot of heaven whenever and wherever our hearts desire.
But if we’re talking about what tweaks quality of life, let us join hands and raise the bar, quite a bit higher if you please.
Jim Osterman lives in Sandy Springs. Reach him at jimosterman@rocketmail.com
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