First, let me start by saying I mean no offense to people who live, work or still visit Hampton, Virginia.
For those who have never heard of Hampton, Virginia, it is at the mouth of the James River in South Eastern Virginia. I was born in Hampton (or actually in Fort Monroe Army Hospital, which is within the Hampton border.)
My father was in the US Army, and I lived for several years in Germany, but we returned to Hampton where I attended primary school. I will not try to enthrall the reader with tales of Arcadian bliss. The fact is that Hampton was a mostly pleasant place to grow up. The waterfront culture still appeals to me. The heat, humidity and mosquitos in Hampton prevent me from recommending it however.
The Hampton I remember seemed like a real place. My Mother told me it was real. But, by all evidence I can find, a Neutron bomb took it out sometime in the 1980s. I have heard many accounts of what happened, but the redux seems to involve an economy totally dependent upon Military infrastructure for employment. I grew up near Fort Monroe, the former Strategic Army Command, Fort Eustis, Oceana Naval Air Station (across Hampton Roads harbor in Norfolk) and Langley Air Force Base. I worked for a summer at the Newport News Shipbuilding and Drydock Company (now Northrop Grumman).
As these outdated institutions declined, the US Government defunded them one by one. I assume some of the military bases are still active, but the net effect was shrinkage. And apparently there was no other economic center from which to grow.
According to the US Census, the population grew in Hampton from 1980 onward.
If the population is growing, then why my Neutron bomb theory?
Because virtually no one with whom I went to High School seems to live or work anywhere near Hampton, Virginia. I have no numeric comparisons with other people, but it appears to me that my entire generation of Hamptonians migrated elsewhere – and primarily because there were no middle class or professional jobs.
I made a road trip to Hampton a few years back. I visited my childhood home. It was a modest bungalow. People lived in more simple housing in the 1960s. By we had physicians, dentists, architects, senior military officers and many other professional people living in our neighborhood. I grew up with their children. I know they were there.
But a return visit was like an episode from the Twilight Zone:
- My childhood home looked identical to 40 year old photos. Nothing was changed. No additions, updates, remodeling. (Here is the Google Street view from February 2011 – there is now a small car port to the left)
- The small strip mall was exactly where I remember, but every store had been either shuttered or taken over by some bottom economy ersatz replacement. (For example, the former 7-11 was now a replacement with, I Swear, the same counters as in my childhood. And the name of the replacement is “M-T Market” – I could not make that up.)
- Not one new building seemed to have been built in decades.
Was it just my neighborhood? No. The entire city looks like a time capsule.
There are people for whom this sounds like bliss, but just try to find your childhood friends – they are all dispersed far and wide. I am the kind of person who really left home. I have never desired to stick close to my roots. But I really wonder at a place as apparently real as Hampton that could not retain its middle class high school graduates.
