No Country For Young Men /

By Christopher Sinclair

Upon graduating from college and returning to Norfolk this past May I experienced several sensations which I often experience upon returning to Norfolk, my home. The remedial effects of the exceptionally clean air, hellos from people whom I’ve known far longer than I can recall, a rainy afternoon spent in the embrace of a leather library armchair, and the troubling scarcity of people my own age. This final phenomenon I had for the last several years regarded as little more than a temporary nuisance, a fleeting trial with a reward at the end: a return to a college campus, a place invariably saturated with individuals between the ages of eighteen and twenty-four.

As this first summer after graduation draws to a close, however, I am quite keenly aware of the absence of this formerly inevitable reward, as are others in my situation. Although my Norfolk peers and I love our hometown fiercely, many of us have begun to view it differently now that it is our time to make lives for ourselves. Many of us have come to consider Norfolk an ideal location for young families and retirees, as well as for those who seek either brief or extended reprieve from the relative chaos of the city. We, however, struggle to see our place here, given the economic and cultural offerings that are available. In a recent conversation with Ethan Couch, a Norfolk local who also graduated from college this past May, he said, “I plan to look for work in a more urban environment. Urban areas tend to have more people in our age demographic, and that’s what I’m looking for at this point in my life.” This sentiment is echoed by many with whom we grew up, as well as by other college age residents of Norfolk and the surrounding areas.

Many of our peers are rarely in town any longer and only visit for brief stretches. Some have settled in the areas around their respective universities, others have adventured around South America and elsewhere, but few have returned on a permanent basis. As I, like my peers, look for employment beyond a decidedly temporary summer job, I find myself not even considering remaining in Norfolk as a viable option. If I were able, by some small miracle, to secure a job here that allowed me to live in town comfortably, several questions would still remain. With whom would I hang out? Could I go to museums, musical venues, bars, and other cultural institutions with the same ease as friends of mine who live in or around more populated areas? Who would I date? These questions, among others, I have of late begun to ask myself. I suspect, and in some cases know, that many of my friends have as well. The answers at which most of us have arrived have compelled us to look elsewhere for work and for a place to settle into our twenties.

Anybody who has spent any time in Norfolk knows that the town possesses a strange, seemingly indescribable kind of magnetism. When you leave Norfolk, you leave knowing, on either a conscious or subconscious level, that you will return at some juncture, for one reason or another. I think that I can comfortably speak for most Norfolk locals my age when I say that Norfolk will forever remain our home in a meaningful and foundational capacity, irrespective of whether or not our path takes us elsewhere for a time, which it looks like it may well do.