In America’s vigorous federal system, the 50 states are relatively free to go their rambunctious ways, competing against each other and catering to local tastes and custom.
There are only two things upon which almost all of the states seem to agree.
One: the Department of Children and Families, or the Department of Families and Children; or the Department of Children Without Families; or the Department of Children From Basketcase Families With Crazy Boyfriends as “Dad;” are run by nincompoops who will eventually do something so embarrassing and horrific that a “court-appointed monitor” will be sent in to fix things and report back to a Special Task Force appointed by the Governor.
Two: The states all agree that there is a “crisis” within each state’s borders, involving the loss of certain population subsets thought vital to the success of the states.
In these here parts, Connecticut, Massachusetts and Maine tend to whine the loudest about losing the best and the brightest, but almost every other state occasionally rouses itself to make the same claim.
And yet, clearly, every state can’t be losing their best and their brightest. The smarty-pants, disposable-income types must live somewhere.
Good Times
In the aggregate, much of the population drift among the states represents an eager search for “lifestyle;” the ability to live your life amid beauty and culture and good times, with a bottle of wine by your side, if the grocery store will sell you one.
Consider the recent help-wanted ad in a medical journal, looking for an internist to work in Lake Tahoe. “Safe community surrounded by spectacular scenery. No urban congestion. Four seasons climate includes snow. Extensive, year-round sports and recreation.”
Maine is clear about the “lifestyle” thing as well. In an ad for yet another internist, the Central Maine Medical Center asks, somewhat rhetorically, “Looking for better lifestyle?” Move to Lewiston, the ad says, with a toss of its hair and a come-hither smile. “Close to the ocean, lakes and mountains, this opportunity offers the outdoor enthusiast unlimited recreational opportunities.”
A medical practice in Biloxi, Miss., offers a smart young internist “water sports, cruises, golf, historic sites, fishing and shrimping.”
Given the competitive marketplace, these kinds of lifestyle ads might seem like tame stuff. But things can get ugly in the business of stealing away the best and the brightest.
Consider the recruitment message from Ft. Rucker, in “beautiful” Dothan, Ala., which urges Connecticut doctors to leave their neurotic, unfriendly, stressful friends and stagnant state economy behind, and move to “a growing city that offers the charm and friendliness of the Deep South.”
And, of course, there is the kind of recruitment advertising that the Connecticut Business & Industry Association pastes up in scrapbooks and delivers to every state legislator.
From your friendly physician recruiters in Franconia Notch, N.H.: “No income/sales taxes.”
The Connecticut approach to such recruiting focuses on our competitive advantage: snob appeal. No cockfights. From Yale University, to internists everywhere: “Work with top-notch colleagues in a collaborative, multi-specialty environment.” No shrimping. No charming, friendly, growing city.
And don’t worry about the taxes. As Yale points out, “our positions are generously salaried; benefits are exceptional.”
The heck with charm and friendliness and unspoiled coastlines. Give me a bag of gold and directions to Connecticut.
Laurence D. Cohen is a freelance writer.
