Brace yourself for a blow to civic ego: In case you haven't yet heard, the official word will almost surely come Monday that Florida has surpassed New York as the nation's third most-populous state.
We've long gotten over not being the biggest state (California took our place in 1962) or even the second-biggest (Texas claimed it in the 1990s). But yielding third to the state that has the most hurricanes? That leads the nation in Taser-associated deaths? Where a guy last year thought it was OK to stab his girlfriend because she didn't like Fox News?
I'm here to remind you, at this time of the year when we tend to take stock, that bigger isn't necessarily better. Better is better. And by the measures that really count, this place is better.
We have the mountains and crystal-clear lakes and streams. We have the soaring cathedrals and great universities, the orchestras, museums and theaters. We have the Baseball Hall of Fame and Niagara Falls.
Not to get all down on Florida, but which state's residents do you think have higher educational achievement? New York's. Which state has the higher gross state product, a measure of economic vitality? New York, by a mile. And which state has the worse crime rate? Florida.
Yes, I realize that Miami was 51 degrees warmer than Albany on Friday. I understand that Florida has no income tax. I'll even take into account that Floridians can get by with a lower clothing budget, because they never need the fleece-lined parka that was on my teenage daughter's Christmas list until I got a look at the price tag.
Conceded, then: The weather is warmer and living is cheaper in Florida.
So pull on a sweater, for heaven's sake, and consider that you get what you pay for in life. Then listen to me before you follow those southbound lemmings.
It's not that New York isn't growing. In fact, about 25,000 Floridians move to New York every year. It's just that Florida is growing faster, and the influx includes about twice as many New Yorkers decamping yearly from the Empire State to the Flowery State.
That's what "florida" means, you know: flowery. And while we all like flowers, I'm partial to the varieties that grow in the north in the spring and summer — the iris and tiger lily, honeysuckle and periwinkle, thistles and trillium. Be patient — they'll be back in bloom in a bit. And we'll appreciate them all the more for the months we have been missing them.
That's the kind of thing you really need to be thinking about as this year draws to a close: all that we have going for us right here, in this place.
Lots of people love their hometowns, but I've come to appreciate this place as an immigrant. I lived in the American West, the Southwest, the Midwest and the Atlantic seaboard before I arrived in New York City in 1979, still in my 20s. I moved to the Capital Region in 1987, figuring it would be good for a couple of years.
So why stay?
We're located at a central point for easy access to both the largest wilderness east of the Mississippi and America's greatest city. Not far away, you can see a major league sports team or the Metropolitan Opera; you can ski a black diamond trail, cast a fly in a great trout stream or hunt a bear or a buck, and still drive home in time to sleep in your own bed in a comfortable, affordable neighborhood.
Speaking of our mountains: It's not true that Space Mountain, a roller coaster in Disney's Magic Kingdom, is the highest mountain in Florida. But the fact that the notion persists suggests a certain sameness to the Flowery State landscape that most of us might find a bit stultifying. Topographic variation is good.
So is meteorologic variation, which is to say, weather. Four seasons reward us with variety, mimicking the cycles of life. How sad it would be to never see snow, to never feel its sharp cold sting on your cheek. Who would wish to miss autumn's colorful glory or the promise of spring? How boring to have but one season; how unbearable to contend with summer anywhere south of the Mason-Dixon line.
Here, in one of our classic small American cities staging a grass-roots comeback, you can live for a fraction of the cost of comparable urban living elsewhere. Here, on a summer evening, you can go take a whole family to a great minor league ballpark and buy everybody all they can eat for what a single ticket to a big league game would cost you.
This is not the best season of the year to make an argument in favor of upstate New York. It's easy to feel good about this place on a fine summer day, when a light breeze crosses Lake George and a few cumulus clouds float in the blue sky.
But love prompts people to sign on for better or for worse, and the same can go for a place. This is our place, isn't it? It's worth more than a numeric measure. All hail No. 4, still the Empire State.