People often ask me, "What is so special about Durham?" The question comes after I proudly rant about the unique brand those in the Bull City have come to love and appreciate. There's a distinctive vibe that distinguishes Durham from any other place.

I haven't felt it anywhere else. Not in Raleigh. Not in Chapel Hill or Charlotte. Not in the "Show Me" state. Yes, I was born in Missouri, graduated from the University of Missouri and will be a Missouri Tigers fan until the day I die. As much as I feel a chill when I see the arch, reminding me that St. Louie is the gateway to the West, I have chosen to pitch my tent in Durham.

Durham has a groove that reminds me of Count Basie and Coltrane. Raleigh feels like Mozart. Chapel Hill has that Woodstock-hippie culture with a twist of suburban privilege. Tie-dye shirts have been exchanged for white shirts, blue suits and ties. The people have gotten older, but they still carry that '60s can't-we-all-just-get-along spirit.

Oh Durham! Home of cool jazz and lazy blues; revolutionary theorists and aspiring entrepreneurs with old stories of human struggles conquered by a dream. There's no place like Durham. It's where the old meets the new and diverse people strike blows to pave the way for a better day.

It's that special brand that keeps me planted in Durham. Please, please, please don't take that special brand away.

Hello, members of the City Council, County Commission and the mystery City Manager to be named sometime in the unforeseeable future: Don't forsake the quintessence of my beloved Durham by transforming my home into a carbon copy of some other community over yonder.

What does that mean? Slow the massive growth. Take a look at how Durham is beginning to look and feel like -- someone hold my hand -- Raleigh. There's nothing wrong with Raleigh. It's a nice place with wonderful people. Some of my best friends live in Raleigh. According to many of the national lists, it is one of the best places to live in America. I celebrate that, but I don't want to live in Raleigh.

I love drinking coffee on Ninth Street at the Bean Trader and chatting with my friends at Mad Hatter's. There's nothing like taking a stroll near Brightleaf Square and getting a bite to eat at Alivia's, Another Thyme, Pop's, The Federal or one of the other options over there.

Get the point. These are homegrown businesses in an area with an idiosyncratic appeal. I get tired of the same ole, same ole that can be found in typical city, U.S. of A. I don't want a Wal-Mart and Target on every corner surrounded by the normal cast of national chains. I'd rather buy my books at the Regulator versus adding to the Barnes & Noble fortune.

This is what makes a community special. It's the businesses and people who bring that peculiar flavor not found anywhere else. Give me communities like Trinity Park, Forest Hills, Hope Valley and special places like Walltown, Bragtown and Hayti over some prefab apartment community to be dropped into the neighborhood nearest you. Take a close look. They all look the same.

Growth and change can be good. But they also can be the catalyst that slowly confiscates that special brand that makes places like Durham so special. Our quest to become bigger and better could ultimately deprive us of the things we love most about our community.

So, get this, future City Manager: When you assume your position, get to know us before you step onto the growth land mine. Take some time to listen to citizens talk about what they love about Durham. They will talk about the arts, the people and history. Embrace the best of who we are before making the mistake of forcing us to become something we don't like.

There's no need to change what you love so much. Give us a little bit more of what we like, and please, please, please don't force us into becoming a replica of the place you came from.

(Carl Kenney is pastor of Compassion Ministries of Durham and author of the novel "Preacha Man." He can be reached at Revcwkii@hotmail.com.)