Corning, New York When I tell people I grew up in Corning, most haven’t heard of it. Those that have tell me one of two things – that they think they may have passed through once while on a band trip, or that they have some plates in their cupboard that say “Corningware” at the bottom (today, the famous Corning Glass Works mostly makes higher tech glass products, like fiber optics, but the plates are still produced). The general impression people have as they pass through on the way to somewhere else is that it’s a quaint little tourist town. I grew up there in the 1980s and 1990s, and I can tell you that even if it seems like a nice place to visit, it’s a horrible place to live. I’m told it wasn’t always like this, that from the 1950s to the 1970s it was the place that people came to on the weekends. Maybe the town lost something vital in the flood of 1972, or maybe those elders telling me about how great Corning used to be are just remembering an ideal past but never was. All I know is that when I go back today, the only people left are the people who got stuck there. Everyone I went to high school with lives somewhere else now, but I might run into someone I know who is “temporarily” crashing at his parents’ place after he got out of another stint in rehab. For the most part, anyone who has the means to get out has. The ones who are left – I don’t even know how to describe them. They look like people you might see in an illustrated phrenology textbook from the 1800s. Needless to say, there are Trump signs and bumper stickers all over the place. If you find yourself there, be sure to leave quickly, but without going over the speed limit. The ratio of police-to-citizen in Corning is about double the size it normally is for a town that size, and they’re looking for something to do, so you’re likely to get a speeding ticket. When I was in high school, someone knocked over a couple flower pots on Market Street – it was front page news, as the police launched a major investigation that lasted for weeks. An acquaintance of mine was even interrogated because someone once saw him picking a flower for his girlfriend from one of those flower pots some weeks prior (those who pick flowers from a pot will likely come back to finish taking revenge on those flowers weeks later, obviously). Speaking of Market Street and the police – Corning is one of those towns where they try to maintain a historical feel, so neon signs were illegal at one point. The cops kept themselves busy by visiting businesses and handing out tickets to business owners for using neon. There isn’t much good I can say about Corning, except maybe the pizza – it’s a New York style that I haven’t really seen much in other parts of the country. If you find yourself passing through Corning, New York, have some pizza and leave.