I was born in Reno in 1963. I'm sure at one point it was a bright, optimistic town with its good luck all ahead of it. But ever since I can remember, Reno just couldn't get back on its feet. Even though it felt like prosperity was always right around the corner, downtown Reno just never could get any momentum going.
Still, I was always attracted to its seediness and the wiry characters who populated the town's deserted streets. There's a sinister and hopeless quality to the place, which I find darkly magical. The downtown streets stand in stark contrast to the burgeoning corporate headquarters of Tesla's battery factory, ITG, Cisco Systems, and other major enterprises who located themselves there to take advantage of the beautiful surroundings -- Lake Tahoe is just an hour away -- and its favorable tax laws.
I had a pretty idyllic childhood in that town. Duck hunting in Stillwater in the fall, skiing in winter, the lake in the summers. When I was in my later teen years, we could drink for free in the casinos by playing $2 blackjack. If you were careful, you could make a $20 bill last all night long. But Reno always had a provincial, small-town feel to me. I imagined the town trying to keep me penned in, limiting me. Now that I'm 53, I can see it was all in my head.
Reno is in my soul. Deep in there. My great, great grandfather lived there. But I'm never going back.