The Virginian-Pilot
                             THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT 
              Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: Thursday, September 28, 1995           TAG: 9509270162
SECTION: SUFFOLK SUN              PAGE: 06   EDITION: FINAL 
TYPE: Guest Column 
SOURCE: BY GERALD A. PORTERFIELD 
                                             LENGTH: Medium:   73 lines

WE'RE SURE LUCKY TO LIVE IN SUBURBS

That's right. They deserve it. Their lot is to be stuck in some backwoods, out-of-the-way, behind-the-times remnant of the past with little if anything to look forward to except old age and death.

On the other hand, we suburbanites have everything going for us. There are literally hundreds of things that we have so much better than our small town counterparts. Let's just look at a few of the ways that our lifestyle here in suburbia is so superior to that of our country cousins.

We are blessed that our subdivision roads normally don't go anywhere. That is, they don't connect to any other subdivision roads, keeping us totally isolated and separated, safe and secure in the knowledge that there will be no through traffic violating our slice of suburbia as we sleep through the night. An added benefit with this is that we can see all our friends in the morning lined up at the subdivision entrance road waiting to merge into our local collector road that collects all the friends from the other subdivisions that we don't want to go through ours. And if we've paid enough taxes and screamed enough at the City Council that collector road is probably six to eight lanes wide.

On the other hand, all a small town can offer is an archaic model in which all roads connect to one another leading to numerous choices on which way to go. How quaint. Oh, sure, this allows them to easily get around the occasional accident, or avoid the road work crews as they repave the street, but the streets are so small. Why, you're so close to the houses you can actually read the names and numbers on the mailboxes. Hardly a 10-lane intersection anywhere; they don't know what they're missing.

Suburbia supplies so many splendid selections. In our specialized centers, located strategically at 10-lane intersections, it's possible to obtain a lifetime's supply of socks in our ``Great Socks - Up and Down'' store, to buy underwear like Bill Clinton's in the ``Nothing but the Briefs'' store or to get all colors and sizes of paper clips in the ``All Paper Clips Great and Small'' store.

In the small town, the commercial section is so close they don't even get to drive their cars. They walk. Imagine that! What do they think those small streets are for anyway? Fourth of July parades? And on the way there you have to talk to all those people you see on the street. Just imagine having to come up with all that small talk and idle conversation. That's work! Then you get to the store and you have to acknowledge the shopkeeper and store clerks with all their incessant questions and concerns about your Aunt Sallie's lost dog, your brother Bob's new baby, and how glad they are that Uncle Lester's back on his feet.

We are so fortunate in suburbia to have been able to plan our housing areas so logically and orderly. We have our single-family condos over here, our townhouses condominiums over there, our apartment condominiums up front, small single-family lots across the lake, medium-sized single-family lots down the road and our large single-family lots wherever the trees are.

Another benefit of this suburban order is all the nice fencing that separates these areas. Gosh, who needs to go to the hardware store? You can view all the varieties, styles and sizes available just by driving down one of the six- to eight-lane collector roads (see above).

Small towns weren't planned; they evolved. Too bad. There's so much disorder. There might be townhouses down one street; turn the corner and there are large mansions; turn another corner and you'll see apartments over a store. Can you believe it? In fact, I know of a small town where the mayor actually lives right around the corner from his mechanic. Unbelievable!

Well, I know it's hard to understand that places like this really exist, but they do. MEMO: Mr. Porterfield operates the Porterfield Design Center on Cumberland

Court, Chesapeake.

by CNB