Seven Weeks in Wheeling
In 2021, I sold my house in Illinois and moved east. On the way, I spent seven weeks in Wheeling, West Virginia.
In Wheeling, I worked remotely, took long walks through the downtown and along the river, and visited a buddy in Pittsburgh a few times.
Wheeling was the first capital of West Virginia, before the capital was moved to Charleston. Faded industrial glory. A strong sense of community, coupled with "I don't care if you live or die" individualism. A general and unspoken adherence to the aesthetics and operational principles of country-western songs.
Many homeless people in the streets. Lots of new construction and lots of properties being renovated. The renovations were mostly, from the looks of it, being done by professional investors. Nobody seemed too bothered about the homelessness.
They're typical of the nice aesthetics of buildings in Wheeling
I chatted with a local man about the homelessness. He said it's sad. He added that while they're not violent, they will steal your property if they get the chance. That tenuous truce on property rights is perhaps synecdochic of the situation in Wheeling as a whole. And Wheeling, of the country.
Perhaps the sleekest building in Wheeling is the headquarters of a health insurance company. Can't make this stuff up. It's surrounded by a 7-or-so-foot-high metal fence. Inside the fence are well-kept grounds with Astroturf-like grass and stone-walled terraces.
One day, I started the washer cycle for my laundry at a local laundromat, then forgot to come back before the laundromat closed. When I returned the next day, someone unknown had taken my laundry out of the washing machine, put it in a dryer, and paid for the dryer cycle. I opened the dryer to find my clothes clean and dry. Then I noticed they'd even added a dryer sheet.
When my car's starter died, a guy walking by did everything in his power to help me. He worked at a local bank, as I recall, and was headed home after work. When he found out I was new in town, he gave me his contact information in case I needed anything.
I called a tow truck. The tow truck driver showed me how to jumpstart a manual transmission car, so I could just drive my car home, which I did. He truly wanted to be as helpful as possible.
The owner of a car repair shop where I took my car, a great man, spent the better part of an hour telling me his life's story. I still think about him sometimes.