Metro Atlanta now stretches 90 miles across, from the Appalachian foothills and the shores of Lake Lanier to the antebellum homes of Newnan and Covington. The Perimeter, which once circumscribed the city and its suburbs, contains less than half the population at the start of the 21st century. All this development has been a mixed blessing. But the forces of economic expansion have made this a more fulfilling place to live than it was when I was born here 45 years ago in a hospital long since demolished for a convention hotel. Now we're as likely to have tandoori chicken or spicy Thai chicken or arroz con pollo at restaurants where the menu might have English subtitles.
Some people wonder whether there's anything distinctive about Atlanta anymore.
There is a Sun Belt sameness about much of what Atlanta has become. You can see the outcroppings when you hike the bluffs of the Chattahoochee River, along trails once trod by Creeks and Cherokees. You can see it on the slopes of Kennesaw Mountain, where two great armies bled each other under a blast-furnace sun. You can see it downtown on Auburn Avenue, where pilgrims the world over come to see where Martin Luther King Jr. was born and preached and was laid to rest. The new Atlanta, the far-flung metropolis flourishing atop the bedrock, is materializing so quickly that it can be hard to recognize.