So what’s with the vultures?

There are a lot of different ways to look at Staunton. As the breadbasket of the Confederacy—and these days, politically speaking, as an iridescent blue dot in a red sea. A historic downtown of galleries, restaurants and arts performances—and a disproportionately high percentage of impoverished families and struggling elders. A city firmly rooted in its past—and one kept off- balance by a revolving door of elected officials and municipal employees. Yin and yang.

Here’s another perspective: at a time of extreme climate change, we are largely insulated from its worst excesses (although those who live and work in the Wharf area may beg to differ). We’re surrounded by the beauty and mystique of the Blue Ridge and Allegheny mountains and the Shenandoah Valley, and have an abundance of parks, trees and green spaces. Yet for all of its many outdoor attractions, Staunton is sandwiched, top and bottom, by two phenomena that underscore the fragility of our existence: below us, a vast and uncharted network of limestone caverns that can—and have—suddenly and unexpectedly swallowed up entire buildings. And above . . . .

. . . . above us are the flocks of vultures that erratically descend on Staunton in late fall or early winter. Roosting in various parts of town by the hundreds, they come here for the abundant trees, the updrafts funneled by our numerous hills—and, most of all, for the smorgasbord brought to them by the food conveyor belt we call I-81. Hardly as photogenic as the sunset-illuminated clock tower or the green Lady Libby trolley trundling through downtown, they nevertheless etch an unforgettable silhouette against grey skies to remind us of this other, counterbalancing yin to the bright, effervescent yang of our public lives.

So it is with this blog, to which I come with a skeptical attitude and a sometimes jaundiced eye. There’s no shortage of upbeat rhapsodizing about our city, and much of it is deserved—but there’s remarkably little critical thinking, at least in public. Staunton, true to its southern cultural roots, is a place where you go along to get along. Disagreement tends to be taken personally, squeezing the juice out of public discourse to avoid giving offense. The result is either polite acquiescence or, when resentments can be contained no longer, explosive disagreement and a drawing of battle lines, with people on one “side” or the other.

That’s not my style. My approach, as encapsulated by the name of this blog, is to look at things obliquely—to regard the world with head cocked to one side in an effort to see beyond the surface. That often leads to contrarian views, which can be productive for financial market investors (with whom I spent some time) but death on personal relationships. But I don’t write to make friends. I write to better understand what I think, and I write in the hopes of engaging other thinking people so we can sharpen each other’s thoughts and reasoning.

This blog will consist primarily of two sections in pursuit of those twin goals. One will amount to an archive of longer—in some cases much longer—posts I’ve written about Staunton’s lack of affordable housing and the city’s faltering attempts to deal with it. I started writing these essays in September of 2024, distributing them via email to a list of approximately 60 people who have been working on the problem with varying degrees of personal investment. I will continue this practice, but after sending out my mass emailing will now add the latest to this blog. You can find them using the “Gimme shelter” button at the top of this page.

The second section, reached via the “Mélange” button, has a more eclectic purview, tackling a variety of topics having to do with life in Staunton. Its entries will be quicker reads than those found in “Gimme shelter,” and probably be more pointed, too, with occasional descents into snark. For all that, reader responses are welcome, and indeed desired.

And the vultures? Just a reminder. Sic tempus fugit.