Your Dying Small Town Could Qualify For “Fading Americana” Status
Do you belong to one of the many hardworking communities across the nation that has been slowly decimated by the gradual decline of traditional industries and the rise of automation? Well, I’ve got good news for you! Your dying small town could be eligible for “fading Americana” status and stand a half-decent chance of being sentimentalized by us, the coastal elite.
Hi there — I’m a writer of long-form non-fiction who specializes in smugly eulogizing parts of the country that I neither live in nor would ever want to. The high-brow magazine I write for has commissioned a series of overlong think-pieces on the fading Americana of our industrial and/or agricultural towns. Which is why I’m reaching out to you all — the good, honest folk of [insert name of applicable state].
We’re offering a few lucky towns the opportunity to be bestowed “fading Americana” status — and cause the readership of our magazine to come over all misty-eyed about “a disappearing way of life” they’ve never experienced (and are ultimately pretty okay with it disappearing.)
To qualify, all your town needs are enough photogenic qualities to look good splashed across a double page spread. I’m talking aesthetically weathered billboards, threadbare flags, maybe an opioid addict whose haggard complexion masks the boyish good looks of a young Pete Buttigieg. Should it meet the criteria, then your small town could conceivably be featured in a series of artful, monochrome photographs all about the slow death of American manufacturing. Exciting!
Let’s be clear: opportunities like this don’t come easy.
For our readers to give it the time of day, your dying small town will need at least three old-school diners, a movie theatre you can still legally smoke in, and a gas station on the edge of town that only accepts Buffalo nickels. It needs to be both gritty and impossibly cute. Like something from an Edward Hopper painting — but also incredibly real. Main Street should be lined with rusty Chevrolet trucks, but, looming symbolically in the middle distance, a shiny new Toyota dealership should serve as a haunting reminder of globalization’s indomitable rise. A few other bonus attributes that could improve your town’s chances: faded brick-ads for Bridlington’s Smelling Salts or Campbell’s Liver Soap, a dive bar with a non-ironic jukebox, and a retro-looking barber shop where old-timers still gather to talk about how everything changed “after the plant closed.”
The more clichés the better. Really ham it up. Sell it.
With so much fading Americana, your small town could even see itself catapulted onto the small screen — providing filming locations for a badly misjudged Netflix adaptation of a Springsteen ballad. Real estate is another potential avenue! If your unincorporated community boasts a collection of derelict historic buildings, then you could soon welcome an influx of whimsical out-of-towners, all amused by the prospect of living in an old bank or a dilapidated former meat processing factory.
The opportunities are endless.
Provided the interstate is close enough to be convenient, but distant enough to preserve a sense of vintage Dust Bowl Era charm, your dying small town could become a bonafide photo opp. All you need to do is erect a ramshackle wooden sign alerting motorists to the presence of “The World’s Largest Barrel of Corn Husks” or “America’s Second Heaviest Freestanding Treddle Loom” and you’re off to the races.
So, what are you waiting for? Stop complaining about how Chinese robots and factory farming have drained the lifeblood from your small, rural community. Apply for “fading Americana” status today — and start monetizing your decay.
