Fresno was often the butt of many jokes on road trips in my youth. It was a small city we blew through on the way to much nicer places in the mountains of California’s Sierra Nevadas. We never really stopped, unless it was for gas, but we did mock it with a combination of ignorance and big city condescendence.
This is no longer allowed, seeing as my girlfriend is from there.
About six months ago, I traveled to Fresno for the first time as a destination instead of a pit stop. The obligatory this-is-where-I-grew-up tour was rather surprising. Fresno, as it turns out, is actually quite a nice place. But don’t take my suddenly biased word for it. The New York Times also agrees. They did a highlight of the city yesterday in their weekly column 36 Hours-which, until recently, I would have thought was 35 1/2 hours too long for Fresno.
Take a moment to read it over. If you’re one of the naysayers who have preferred the city in your rear view mirror over the years, you’ll be surprised to learn about its “subterranean arboretum,” microbreweries, the Meux Home Museum, a “health oasis garden,” nearby rock climbing, and plenty of great ethnic restaurants.
I’m amazed that the cultural highbrows at The New York Times failed to mention that Pulitzer prize-winning author William Saroyan was born in Fresno and that half of his ashes are buried here as well. Today, the city continues to embrace its famous son with writing contests, a theater, archives, and even a monument.
Guess I should have done more than just stop for gas all these years.