My Hometown
Thanks for the title Mr. Springsteen – here’s the video – My Hometown
Or – if you into a more “Sublime-like” song – here’s John Reuben, former student turned rapper – Pataskala
I live in Pataskala, Ohio. When I first came here in 1978, a twenty-one year old teacher at the nearby high school, Pataskala was a town adrift. Located twenty miles due east of downtown Columbus; it was originally a farm town. The grain elevator still stands “downtown,” though it’s been used for storage for the past fifty years. At the high school there was a “tractor day” when the Future Farmers of America class would bring their machines to school, and they grew a couple acres of corn behind the building.
But it was changing. The farmers were selling their land; financially there was so much more profit selling a couple hundred acres here for development, then buying double or more the acreage farther away from the city. Suburban housing was springing up, and all of a sudden (or at least over ten years or so) Pataskala went from a rural town, to a suburb. Soon the high school band got out of school to play at the grand opening of the new McDonald’s on Broad Street, and the hometown grocery store Roseberry’s was bought by Cardinal, then driven out of business when Krogers hit town.
The cities nearer downtown; Reynoldsburg and the city of Columbus, were encroaching on the countryside. A major industrial plant, the clothing giant The Limited, was built on the western edge of the neighboring township. It was quickly lost to Reynoldsburg for its tax valuation. It was a sign of things to come, the urbanization of the rural outlying areas. The village of Pataskala reorganized itself, added Lima Township to the west, and became a CITY, now 15002 strong, as the sign at the city limits says. Being a city defended the “borders” from poaching, but made it the twelfth largest city in Ohio (out of 280 some) in geography. The village police department was forced to expand, and the City forced to catch up on road and bridge repairs.
So now Pataskala is a suburban city. The citizens like the rural heritage, and don’t want it “citified.” They like to be near fields and woods. But they also want the conveniences of “city life,” with restaurants and activities. And though they love the “forests and fields,” they’re not so much about the coyotes prowling the margins, and the deer eating their gardens.
The local newspaper was sold to the Gannett Media Group in the 1990’s, so there isn’t a real local news source anymore. The closest Pataskala has to a central information source is on Facebook, where the residents voice their concerns. Sometimes it’s a “hoot:” hundreds of responses when the topic is local taxes (called RITA for Regional Income Tax Authority here in Ohio) or the complicated water bills. There are two different water/sewer systems in the City, depending on location, with different billing and costs. Everyone has something to say about that.
It’s definitely “Trump Country”, in 2016 the President won 61% of the City vote; Clinton only gained 34%. And it’s not just support for Trump, in 2018 in the hotly contested 12thCongressional District race, the Republican candidate gained 58% while the Democrat polled 40%. My political views are definitely an “outlier” here.
The traffic is getting heavier. You know it’s a working class town; Broad Street is crowded at 5:30 am with folks headed towards Columbus to make the 6 am start. And the evening rush hour at Broad Street and State Route 310 can stop the whole town. What used to be a clear eight mile drive to the Columbus city limits now has ten stoplights; more are on the way. One of the school districts, Licking Heights (there are two in the City) is the fastest growing school in the state.
But there’s still a lot of small town here in Pataskala. Want to see everyone you know; hang out at Kroger’s for an hour on Friday around five. Want to just see the retired people, try Tuesday at ten in the morning! If a dog is lost, Facebook explodes with help, and neighbors go out looking. It’s a good excuse for “a walk,” but it’s also a community that wants to help.
When snow closes school, the local coaches are urging their teams to grab shovels and help their neighbors, and when five inches of rain fall in an hour, the community is out checking to make sure everyone is OK. In our little block, we check on the 87 year-old widow across the street. I must be getting older, they’re starting to check on me now too!
And Pataskala has a great Mayor, Mike Compton. I imagine we are not on the same side as far as national politics are concerned, but the Mayor always shows that he cares about the community. He’s constantly willing to explain, and to help, and to stop and be a part of a local fundraising effort. And he posts lots of pictures: the sun setting on his back deck, the new police station, the picnic in the park, and, the goats.
The goats have become the running joke in town, hanging out in the field on Mink Street near Broad. Mayor Compton made them famous on Facebook, and when they were taken to winter pastures, he assured us they would return when the spring came.
They are a good representation of Pataskala: a remnant of rural life in what is a burgeoning suburban city. Folks move here for the goats, and the fields, and the woods. But they stay for the community, working to make life better as we struggle with growth and change. It’s not that there aren’t differences, but in our era of national discord, Pataskala is a surprise: a place where people still work together.
