Paul Turner: Harrumph! Spokane’s getting awfully positive these days.

There are worse problems.

And perhaps you hadn’t even noticed. But I have.

Spokane is feeling good about itself. (Your mileage may vary.)

This worries me a little. I’ll get to that.

For longtime residents, this new, arguably rosy outlook is a somewhat curious state of affairs.

Sure, most of us have always known this sometimes confounding city has a lot going for it. But often that reality had to compete with a steady drumbeat of self-doubt.

No need to raise your hand.

In part, we tended to be defensive about some uncomfortable truths. You know, sobering statistics about crime, educational attainment, incomes, social well-being and the always subjective assessment of the Lilac City’s desirability as a place to reside.

Those concerns have not vanished.

Nor has another longtime question: What does Seattle think of us (if it thinks of us at all)?

But it looks like we’re in the midst of an attitudinal course correction.

I hear it seemingly every day. There’s a new tone.

A lot of this might be attributable to young people who, it seems, aren’t so eager to pull up stakes and move to a bigger city where they can’t afford to live.

OK, full disclosure. Feel free to dismiss everything I’m saying and move on, because I’m basing my findings on always suspect anecdotal evidence.

But I have been listening to people talk about Spokane for a long time. There’s something different in the air right now. The vibe has gotten slightly more upbeat, more optimistic.

Or maybe I have just gotten more adept at tuning out naysayers.

OK, things might not look great if you are sick or out of work. But if you recently sold your house for a handsome profit or saw your twentysomething granddaughter move back here because Spokane now felt like a good fit, well, you might think things are looking up.

Readers occasionally used to call me a “Spokane basher” whenever I noted one of the warts we encounter living here. Now? Most people shrug it off and get back to taking care of business.

Are we less thin-skinned now? Or simply more confident?

Here’s the thing, though. I sort of liked the way Spokane used to be.

Oh sure, we might grouse about this or complain about that. Still, we knew this was a pretty good place and we were glad to be here, most of the time.

We just didn’t always wear our pride in Spokane on our sleeve.

Curmudgeons can have their heart in the right place, if you know where to look.

Now don’t get me wrong. Nothing I’ve said about Spokane seeming to have a spring in its step lately is intended to suggest we have undergone a radical civic personality transformation. We haven’t all gone full rah-rah or embraced denial about the city’s many daunting challenges.

Still, Spokane’s self-esteem seems bubbling with new potency. And that’s a good thing.

Within reason.

There’s something to be said for those Crabby Appletons who see the glass as half empty.

I’m not saying we should hide our light under a bushel basket (or whatever that saying is). There’s nothing wrong with a little self-promotion.

But would it be crazy to imagine one day being nostalgic for the self-effacing, understated Spokane where one’s affection for this city was sometimes expressed by grumbling and head shaking?

I guess we can worry about that when the time comes.

Spokane has always been home to some world-class harrumphers. I’d hate to see them all be supplanted by prancing cheerleaders.

Perhaps even speculating about that is a sign things are changing.

For the better? You make the call.

***

As an end note, here’s one more tune a reader learned as a child in another state.

“I grew up in Central New York, near Syracuse,” wrote Shirley Carlson. “We had to memorize all five verses of the Erie Canal song about a mule named Sal and her job on the canal.”

Here’s the chorus:

Low bridge, everybody down

Low bridge, ’cause we’re comin’ to a town.

You’ll always know your neighbor,

And you’ll always know your pal,

If you’ve ever navigated on the Erie Canal.

A reader named Dorothy in Coeur d’Alene recalled singing Woody Guthrie’s “Roll On, Columbia, Roll On,” when she was a grade schooler in Hood River, Oregon, long ago.

“When we got to the part of the song that mentions the Hood River, we had to stand up and salute.”