All right, three weeks ago I bared my liberal soul to the world in a brief “coming out” period. It was a painful but necessary therapeutic move for me, and although my friends gently warned me I might regret it, I think it was for the better.

Soon after this, columnist and Western Illinois native Eric Gubelman came out in defense of Illinois small towns, which are often overlooked in terms of importance by residents of Chicago or the burbs.

After reading Eric’s column and heading home briefly for spring break, I realized there was another pet subject of mine—like political labels—that I could impose upon anyone unsuspecting enough to read through this whole column. That subject? My own hometown: Rockford, Illinois.

If you’re not laughing right now, it’s probably because you’re a Rockford native yourself … then again, maybe it’s because you specifically are from Rockford. For one reason or another, my hometown always seems to get a bum rap from people.

The Rand McNally Corp. regularly publishes a list of the 200 or so best cities in America, ranked (they say) according to several important criteria such as education, crime, entertainment, etc. And Rockford regularly places close to last on that list.

When I mention to people I’m a Rockfordian (Rockfordite? Rockfordist? whatever …) they inadvertently mention the city’s relatively high crime rate and lack of “anything to do.” Last year, a native of nearby Belvidere even wrote a letter to the Star labeling Rockford a “festering hell-hole.”

I’ve lived in Rockford for 22 years, minus my time at NIU, and have never known the city to fester, although it does sort of limp around a little. And it’s not so much a hell-hole as a … well, a purgatory-indentation.

ockford’s got problems like any other good-sized city, like those mentioned already. Its biggest concern might be the seeming attempts to remain at once the second largest city in Illinois (population: nearly 130,000) while presenting an almost naive, close-knit, hometown image.

But people often overlook the contributions of Rockford, such as the famous personalities the city has been home to: Cheap Trick, John B. Anderson, Cheap Trick, Susan St. James, Pope John Paul II and Cheap Trick … OK, so the pope’s from Rochelle. At least he’s got a Rockford office.

Nothing to do in Rockford? Har har! The Metro Centre usually has a basketball game or a concert to blow a little money on. The small-but-cozy Coronado Theater hosts a number of good shows a year; I’ve seen INXS and Bad Company there, and there wasn’t a bad seat in the house.

The yearly On the Waterfront and Taste of Rockford festivals attract more people than went to Pismo Beach for spring break.

The culture goes on and on. In Rockford, we’ve got six malls, seven high schools (only five of which boast schools colors of black and red) and nine billion churches. We’ve got one of those crumbling, post-industrial, central-city areas that are so in vogue now with cities of populations of more than 10,000.

And if you’re hooked on the bar scene, Rockford’s got a few that would put your McCabe’s shirt to shame, like Madison Street’s Old Rock River Cafe and Deli.

And talk about pastoral beauty! If you appreciate lounging by the East Lagoon, leisurely reading and being chased by the sentinel geese in 75-degree May weather, try this:

Get on Highway 51 a few Saturdays from now and head north to the Sinissippi Gardens in Rockford. That park and its bike path are two of the most peaceful places you’ll ever find to blow off an afternoon’s worth of work.

Maybe Rockford’s too used to putting up with the wisecracking Don Rickles of the world about our seeming lack of substance. It really is a great little big city. Ask the pope …