Matt Scinto's Blog

Free Write: 1/19/09

I was raised all my life in Fairfield, CT, a suburb of NYC (about an hour away by train). The majority of the town is wealthy; there are many areas littered with large houses, expensive cars, and an overall feeling of high class. I’m comfortable when I’m home. Everything is in reach. There are many shopping areas, (most of them minutes from my house), great eats for all the different types of food lover and the availability of schooling close to many peoples homes. Because of this, it’s an ideal area to raise and family and be close to everyday needs; it’s no secret why families, including mine, settle down and stay there. Like many of the wealthier towns in Connecticut, there is a strong divide between the richer and poorer areas.  Bridgeport, a city right next door to Fairfield almost the complete opposite of everything my town stands for; there is much more crime, drug trafficking, poverty and diminishing buildings and houses in general. My hometown could be thought of as the greener grass on the other side of the bridge; you would be surprised such differences exist in such a close proximity. One place that comes to mind when talking about the divide between both places is Park Ave, a long stretch of road, where Fairfield sits on one side and Bridgeport on the other. I feel safe in Fairfield; when I’m on the other side of that line, I seem to feel out of place. I worry more, I’m almost scared even. I’m not sure what to contribute this too, being that my domain is so very close to me, but I think it’s something kids in Fairfield have learned over time, or taught even. We sit on such a fine line and we sometimes don’t even realize until we pass over onto the other side.

Memories of the inner city kids coming to our schools in middle and elementary school still sit in my mind. We found each other so different, regardless if we had the same favorite cartoons, both liked kid meals at McDonalds, or liked the same movies. We were so young, but we knew there was some kind of divide. As we all grew older, the divide was still there. Even to this day, I don’t feel the same security as in Fairfield when I cross the line. Something back in my head is telling me to go back. I guess in some regards we all have these feelings; venturing off our turf can be very difficult. However, when that foreign land is so close it can be worse off for some. I certainly feel that way. I don’t want to blame myself for these manifestations of fear. I think in time, I will grow, have more experiences off my turf as I am know, and soon learn that it’s not bad on the other side, just different. I’m too young now; I’ve only been at college for almost two years now, and home is still very close. Like my parents, and their grandparents, I will learn to venture away. Unless of course I decide to stay where I’m comfortable. Will I ever learn?