In the NY Times OPED section, "Miami Grows Up. A Little", Pamela Druckerman takes on the shallow culture we know so well, because it is the reflective surface on which Miami's political scene is illegibly written.
The editorial sparked garbled huffing and puffing from Dave Barry on his blog, joined by a chorus of readers along the lines of "down, down, with the NY Times!"
What is there to complain about, bro? Druckerman is right: ours is a city that elevated the work of Romero Brito to public spaces. We've closed off Biscayne Bay to the public, we've saturated the city with publicly funded colosseums, we've stuck latch-key children in alienating "suburbs" while parents are stuck in endless hours of commuting. Eye On Miami is a shoulder for Pamela Druckerman to lean on.
"Like practically everyone who grew up in Miami, I knew little about its history." Check.
"The city was founded in 1896, but for its first 60 years or so it was a segregated backwater, with fewer than a million people." Check, that.
"Miami even has a homegrown dialect. Young Latinos — regardless of whether they even know Spanish — speak English with a Spanish twang." Double check.
"And while there are some thinkers scattered around town, Miami is overrun with lawyers, jewelry designers and personal trainers, all trying to sell services to one another." LOL.
"There was a lot of pleasure in Miami, but not enough surprising interactions and ideas. Miami may one day be the city for normal-looking people with semi-intellectual aspirations and a mild social conscience. But it’s not there yet." That's what we would call, AN UNDERSTATEMENT!
Booyah, Pamela Druckerman! We've called Miami a third-tier America city for its lack of respect for public spaces, for its absence of sensible urban planning, for its willingness to sell its soul to the highest bidder (or most connected, politically). What part of that picture, doesn't Dave Barry understand? Click read, more for the full OPED.
MIAMI — IF you had asked me what I wanted when I was 12 years old, I probably would have said, “to marry a plastic surgeon.”
You can hardly blame me: I was growing up in Miami. My life plan elegantly combined the city’s worship of bodies and money, and its indifference to how you came by either. When I left for college, I put Miami behind me, and tried to have a life of the mind. I got a graduate degree. I traveled. I even married a fellow writer, whose only real estate was a dingy one-bedroom apartment in Paris, where we lived.
But with kids came long summer pilgrimages to Miami to see family. It took a lot of effort to keep spurning the city, especially since the weather was so good. Miami had grown up a bit, and so had I. Hadn’t it developed a soul beneath its vapid, extremely pleasant, slightly menacing exterior? If I understood Miami better, could I grow to like it? Maybe I was the problem?
Like practically everyone who grew up in Miami, I knew little about its history. We were more worried about mangoes falling on our cars. It took just a bit of reading to realize that Florida had always attracted people with “an inordinate desire to get rich quickly with a minimum of physical effort,” as the economist John Kenneth Galbraith once described them.
And if the Miami of my childhood had the temperament of a spoiled teenager, that’s because, effectively, it was one. The city was founded in 1896, but for its first 60 years or so it was a segregated backwater, with fewer than a million people. (Despite the occasional celebrity sighting, “There was nothing, not even a Neiman Marcus,” someone who lived there in the 1950s told me).
The 1959 Cuban revolution was modern Miami’s unofficial birthday. Over the next 20 years, practically the entire Cuban upper class arrived. Many other Cubans followed. One of my neighbors in the 1970s had been imprisoned by Fidel Castro’s government. Another was doing his best to overthrow it. After the 1980 Mariel boatlift, which brought 125,000 more Cubans to Florida, surprised-looking children who spoke no English suddenly appeared in my sixth-grade class. Colombians, Nicaraguans and others arrived later.
The upper-class Cubans who became Miami’s new aristocracy had little trouble adapting to the city’s materialistic ethos. After all, they had been forced to leave all their stuff in Cuba. Soon there were two dominant modes of conversation in Miami: discussions about where to get your hair done, and anti-Castro rants.
In recent summers, I’ve found that Miami isn’t that city anymore. Young Latinos — no longer burdened with the myth that they’ll one day return “home” — adore their American hometown. They major in Spanish literature at Florida universities, gush about Miami’s weather, and get sentimental about stone crabs, Cuban coffee and buying avocados out of the trunks of cars.
The area’s remaining “Anglos” — now just 15 percent of the population — want their kids to learn Spanish. (Confusingly, Miami’s Latinos call these Anglos “Americans.”)
MIAMI even has a homegrown dialect. Young Latinos — regardless of whether they even know Spanish — speak English with a Spanish twang. To non-Miamians, they sound like extremely fluent immigrants. Phillip M. Carter, a linguist at Florida International University, says that when young born-and-bred Miamians visit the rest of America, or even Boca Raton, people often ask them what country they’re from.
“Miami English” is also proof that a city can be international but not cosmopolitan. People typically don’t realize they’re speaking a dialect unless they leave Miami, Mr. Carter says.
Most locals also don’t seem bothered that Miami is one of America’s most unequal cities, with lots of very poor people living close to rich ones. Miami’s have-nots are easy to ignore, since — if they’re not cleaning your house or parking your car — you just drive past them.
Still, Miami has gotten more interesting, just by existing a while longer. Its buzzing new arts scene is a start. “I think Miami is now trying to figure out a way to be a center of ideas and brains,” the urban-studies theorist Richard Florida told me.
For the moment, though, Miami looks like a giant construction project. After a several-year lull that started in 2008, luxury condominiums are shooting up again, often right next to each other. The local economy still runs on selling bits of land to newcomers.
And while there are some thinkers scattered around town, Miami is overrun with lawyers, jewelry designers and personal trainers, all trying to sell services to one another. “Injured on a cruise ship?” reads a sign on South Dixie Highway, one of the city’s main thoroughfares. My recent stay coincided with Miami Spa Month, a bathing-suit fashion week, and a “camming” convention for stars of do-it-yourself pornography. While dropping off my rental car, I met a Central American woman who made extra cash picking up people at the airport and driving them to their appointments for cut-rate breast enlargements.
I wanted to fall for the place. I’m a third-generation Miamian. I’m fond of it. I’m an expatriate, so it’s the only American city I can still legitimately claim. Many of its faults — especially its inordinate interest in shopping — are my own too. And it’s obvious why people like it here. After two weeks, I’d swum so many laps that the flaps of fat on my arms, which I’d assumed were an inevitable consequence of middle age, were nearly gone.
But still, compared with the Miamians, I felt practically deformed. And I struggled to have conversations that weren’t about real estate or consumption. There was a lot of pleasure in Miami, but not enough surprising interactions and ideas. Miami may one day be the city for normal-looking people with semi-intellectual aspirations and a mild social conscience. But it’s not there yet.
Pamela Druckerman is a contributing opinion writer and the author of “Bringing Up Bébé: One American Mother Discovers the Wisdom of French Parenting.”
The editorial sparked garbled huffing and puffing from Dave Barry on his blog, joined by a chorus of readers along the lines of "down, down, with the NY Times!"
What is there to complain about, bro? Druckerman is right: ours is a city that elevated the work of Romero Brito to public spaces. We've closed off Biscayne Bay to the public, we've saturated the city with publicly funded colosseums, we've stuck latch-key children in alienating "suburbs" while parents are stuck in endless hours of commuting. Eye On Miami is a shoulder for Pamela Druckerman to lean on.
"Like practically everyone who grew up in Miami, I knew little about its history." Check.
"The city was founded in 1896, but for its first 60 years or so it was a segregated backwater, with fewer than a million people." Check, that.
"Miami even has a homegrown dialect. Young Latinos — regardless of whether they even know Spanish — speak English with a Spanish twang." Double check.
"And while there are some thinkers scattered around town, Miami is overrun with lawyers, jewelry designers and personal trainers, all trying to sell services to one another." LOL.
"There was a lot of pleasure in Miami, but not enough surprising interactions and ideas. Miami may one day be the city for normal-looking people with semi-intellectual aspirations and a mild social conscience. But it’s not there yet." That's what we would call, AN UNDERSTATEMENT!
Booyah, Pamela Druckerman! We've called Miami a third-tier America city for its lack of respect for public spaces, for its absence of sensible urban planning, for its willingness to sell its soul to the highest bidder (or most connected, politically). What part of that picture, doesn't Dave Barry understand? Click read, more for the full OPED.
MIAMI — IF you had asked me what I wanted when I was 12 years old, I probably would have said, “to marry a plastic surgeon.”
You can hardly blame me: I was growing up in Miami. My life plan elegantly combined the city’s worship of bodies and money, and its indifference to how you came by either. When I left for college, I put Miami behind me, and tried to have a life of the mind. I got a graduate degree. I traveled. I even married a fellow writer, whose only real estate was a dingy one-bedroom apartment in Paris, where we lived.
But with kids came long summer pilgrimages to Miami to see family. It took a lot of effort to keep spurning the city, especially since the weather was so good. Miami had grown up a bit, and so had I. Hadn’t it developed a soul beneath its vapid, extremely pleasant, slightly menacing exterior? If I understood Miami better, could I grow to like it? Maybe I was the problem?
Like practically everyone who grew up in Miami, I knew little about its history. We were more worried about mangoes falling on our cars. It took just a bit of reading to realize that Florida had always attracted people with “an inordinate desire to get rich quickly with a minimum of physical effort,” as the economist John Kenneth Galbraith once described them.
And if the Miami of my childhood had the temperament of a spoiled teenager, that’s because, effectively, it was one. The city was founded in 1896, but for its first 60 years or so it was a segregated backwater, with fewer than a million people. (Despite the occasional celebrity sighting, “There was nothing, not even a Neiman Marcus,” someone who lived there in the 1950s told me).
The 1959 Cuban revolution was modern Miami’s unofficial birthday. Over the next 20 years, practically the entire Cuban upper class arrived. Many other Cubans followed. One of my neighbors in the 1970s had been imprisoned by Fidel Castro’s government. Another was doing his best to overthrow it. After the 1980 Mariel boatlift, which brought 125,000 more Cubans to Florida, surprised-looking children who spoke no English suddenly appeared in my sixth-grade class. Colombians, Nicaraguans and others arrived later.
The upper-class Cubans who became Miami’s new aristocracy had little trouble adapting to the city’s materialistic ethos. After all, they had been forced to leave all their stuff in Cuba. Soon there were two dominant modes of conversation in Miami: discussions about where to get your hair done, and anti-Castro rants.
In recent summers, I’ve found that Miami isn’t that city anymore. Young Latinos — no longer burdened with the myth that they’ll one day return “home” — adore their American hometown. They major in Spanish literature at Florida universities, gush about Miami’s weather, and get sentimental about stone crabs, Cuban coffee and buying avocados out of the trunks of cars.
The area’s remaining “Anglos” — now just 15 percent of the population — want their kids to learn Spanish. (Confusingly, Miami’s Latinos call these Anglos “Americans.”)
MIAMI even has a homegrown dialect. Young Latinos — regardless of whether they even know Spanish — speak English with a Spanish twang. To non-Miamians, they sound like extremely fluent immigrants. Phillip M. Carter, a linguist at Florida International University, says that when young born-and-bred Miamians visit the rest of America, or even Boca Raton, people often ask them what country they’re from.
“Miami English” is also proof that a city can be international but not cosmopolitan. People typically don’t realize they’re speaking a dialect unless they leave Miami, Mr. Carter says.
Most locals also don’t seem bothered that Miami is one of America’s most unequal cities, with lots of very poor people living close to rich ones. Miami’s have-nots are easy to ignore, since — if they’re not cleaning your house or parking your car — you just drive past them.
Still, Miami has gotten more interesting, just by existing a while longer. Its buzzing new arts scene is a start. “I think Miami is now trying to figure out a way to be a center of ideas and brains,” the urban-studies theorist Richard Florida told me.
For the moment, though, Miami looks like a giant construction project. After a several-year lull that started in 2008, luxury condominiums are shooting up again, often right next to each other. The local economy still runs on selling bits of land to newcomers.
And while there are some thinkers scattered around town, Miami is overrun with lawyers, jewelry designers and personal trainers, all trying to sell services to one another. “Injured on a cruise ship?” reads a sign on South Dixie Highway, one of the city’s main thoroughfares. My recent stay coincided with Miami Spa Month, a bathing-suit fashion week, and a “camming” convention for stars of do-it-yourself pornography. While dropping off my rental car, I met a Central American woman who made extra cash picking up people at the airport and driving them to their appointments for cut-rate breast enlargements.
I wanted to fall for the place. I’m a third-generation Miamian. I’m fond of it. I’m an expatriate, so it’s the only American city I can still legitimately claim. Many of its faults — especially its inordinate interest in shopping — are my own too. And it’s obvious why people like it here. After two weeks, I’d swum so many laps that the flaps of fat on my arms, which I’d assumed were an inevitable consequence of middle age, were nearly gone.
But still, compared with the Miamians, I felt practically deformed. And I struggled to have conversations that weren’t about real estate or consumption. There was a lot of pleasure in Miami, but not enough surprising interactions and ideas. Miami may one day be the city for normal-looking people with semi-intellectual aspirations and a mild social conscience. But it’s not there yet.
Pamela Druckerman is a contributing opinion writer and the author of “Bringing Up Bébé: One American Mother Discovers the Wisdom of French Parenting.”
13 comments:
It's funny that most of the people who rush to criticize Druckerman's "fluff" piece are the first ones to criticize or make fun of South Florida when only their pals are reading or listening. Indeed, some of them, like Barry, make careers out of it. But put those beefs or eccentricities on a national stage and all of a sudden they get terribly defensive.
Druckerman should have included that hypocritical, two-faced Miamian in her essay. It would have rounded it out nicely.
I find it amazing that you are impressed with the opinion of a woman who wrote a book about the best cities for infidelity and who wrote that she gave her husband a threesome for his fortieth birthday. From "Lust" she went on to write how French parents are better than American parents because they make toddlers wait for their scheduled meals, no matter how hungry they are.
She is an elitist who regularly criticizes the US and primarily NYC in her articles and books.
Dave Barry's reaction doesn't surprise me. Miamians reserve to themselves the exclusive right to criticize Miami. Criticism from outsiders isn't welcome and usually results in a defensive rant.
There's some irony when a person drops into town occasionally and then writes a shallow article about how Miami doesn't have deep thinking going on.
The article offers insight into the people she interacts with and the undercurrent on Miami's Cuban community is disturbing and telling.
Brito stole our soul.
In her book, Ms Druckerman recommends tha t children be placed in the care of nannies as early as possible,
Praises infant formula and criticizes moms who breastfeed, labels stay-at-home moms as "lazy" and is of the opinion that New York moms are the worst. And we should take criticism from this woman?
Wow. Looks like the Chamber of Commerce trolls are on this blog.
Hello? We are the city where librarians had to take to the streets with protest signs because our dear mayor thought it was good to close nearly half our libraries and fire the staff. Shallow is just the start of our problems.
Does anyone know if there's a recording of the coneheads
singing the dolphins fight song?
1st the unmitigated disaster of Germany v. Brazil
and now this
Barry v. EOM latest comment count, 82-8
that's a lot of unaccented typing
Druckerman-Negativism masquerading as intellectualism.
TD Allman's book, written in 1980s and just republished, describes how Miami (1980s) is what America will be, is becoming,now is. Miami: City of the Future by TD Allman.
Name a city that is perfect!
The woman lives in Paris. As if Paris, a place with anti-semitism is on the rise, racial violence a not so distant history of Nazi collaboration, the focus of 2 World Wars and crap weather is mecca...LOL.
If Miami has so little to offer, why is it a top world travel destination? Why are people setting out on rafts hoping to land here before death catches them as it did in 1/3 of the rafts...but kudos for the threesome!
I gotta laugh at the commentary on Britto, it's definitely too pervasive. Don't forget our poor historic preservation record. I love Miami for all it's faults and virtues; I'm a native and I'm here to stay and try to make it a better place.
Right on EOM... We all know that she is spot on. Miami has all of these problems and more. Sure Paris and NYC have troubles but they seem to try to elect leaders to do something about it. In M-D county and City of Miami we seem incapable to even getting close to encouraging good people to run. The poverty, the shallow culture, the lack of civic institutions, the huge wealth gaps, the tin ear to Global Warming all of it can be traced to the elite dominated politics. Miami while it votes Blue is dominated by bright red elites that are intent upon driving the city into the sea for the short term buck.
"If Miami has so little to offer, why is it a top world travel destination?"
Because you come and then you leave.
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