Boise unrolls the welcome mat and it's not pretty. . . LITERALLY

Eight years ago, as we were moving from Salt Lake to Seattle I distinctly remember turning to my then-boyfriend and saying as we clipped along I84 westward through Boise: "What a F*@#ing shithole - who would ever live here?" in a sneering tone of incredulity.  As fate would have it (and perhaps as karmic retribution). . . I would eventually live here. 

Unfortunately, what we beheld eight years ago along the 84 corridor is what still greets drivers headed west along the interstate: a scarred, barren, industrial landscape littered with boxcars, dilapidated train tracks, faded, windowless warehouses and vast stretches of pavement covered in semi-trailers.  The image screams the Chamber's mantra: "Welcome to Boise - a great place to live, work and visit!"

Right?

Well, not really. 

I am reminded of my initial impression of Boise EVERY time I drive home from visiting family in Utah, and each time I cringe at the impression we as a city are making on EVERY road traveler that glances at the landscape greeting them and chooses to drive on - never even giving the *real* Boise a chance to capture their hearts as it did mine 4 years ago. . .

After years in Seattle I was ready for a new adventure - thus I struck out in search of *greener* pastures (as if it gets any "greener" than Seattle). 

My dad was actually the first to suggest Boise when I mentioned my quest for a new Western city to call home.  I resisted initially - largely because of the impression the city had made on me that fateful day eight years ago when I drove through the first time.  After hearing his oft-repeated praises of the city, however, I finally caved and agreed to "check it out".  My dad - having experienced the Boise that many Boiseans fiercely love & defend to outsiders - wisely instructed me to "KEEP DRIVING from 84 all the way down Vista until you crest the hill . . . and reserve your judgment until then." 

Lucky for me I listened to my dad for once.  Sure enough, after the barren stretch of 84 (and after the run-down store-fronts along Vista), it was like an oasis appeared from the desert.  The further I got into the heart of the city the more I fell in love with it. 

Like they say about true love - when you fall, you fall hard: Four months later I closed on my new home in Boise's historic Hyde Park; Six months from taking Dad's advice and eight years after my initial impression of the city, I was a newbie Boisean (pronounced without a "z" for those of you who haven't yet called Boise home) and in the nearly four years since I've never been happier.

As much as I'd like to think of myself as unique (as those of you who know me can attest to), I highly doubt that the initial impression I had of Boise is something solely I can claim.  I'm not a planner, and I'm not a politician, but I am a passionate citizen and the message that keeps ringing in my head upon reflection of my experience is: “You never get a second chance to make a first impression”.

This is a mantra that I think we as Boiseans need to truly take to heart.  As a community seeking to grow & thrive, we should ask ourselves everyday: "What impression are we making on outsiders?" While a lot of thought seems to be given to what impression our quality of life, schools, businesses, entrepreneurial spirit, tax incentives, etc. make on the world at large, we need to simultaneously direct some thoughtfulness to what impression our *looks* are making on outsiders. 

If it looks like a duck but trumpets like a swan aren't we confusing people?  If we want to be swans shouldn't we present ourselves as such?