I never
would have guessed that I had 309 posts in me.
But once I began, the ideas just kept coming. Some I executed better than others, but I don’t
have a single one that I would retract.
I sometimes reread older posts. I
may find ideas that I could have conveyed more effectively or phrases that lack
gracefulness, I haven’t yet found a single idea that I’d disown. And that pleases me.
Nor do I
have any plans to stop. I may do
something a little different in December to give myself a short respite, but I already
have a publication schedule into January and beyond.
To mark the
end of year two, I’ll offer some bigger thoughts. I won’t go so far as to say profound. That judgment must come from others. But thoughts that deal with the bigger
picture of moving urbanism forward rather than the details of a particular
project or issue.
Two short
vignettes form the backdrop for today’s post.
Earlier this
year, Petaluma Urban Chat took a field trip.
On a sunny Saturday in February, eight of us met at a bus stop near
downtown to take Petaluma Transit to lunch on the eastside. In the course of our daily lives, we have
little reason to use Petaluma Transit, although we’re all pleased that it
exists. The field trip was an
opportunity to become more familiar with the system.
As we
gathered at the bus stop, we double-checked that we had the appropriate
fare. To my surprise, all but one of us
qualified for the senior citizens fare.
Of the eight bus riders, I was the only one under 65. It was a revelation.
I love the
Urban Chat group, but it was disconcerting to realize how many of the bus
riders were nearing retirement age. Nor
are the regular Urban Chat meetings much younger. There may be a few younger folks, but it’s
still an older crowd.
With age
often comes a change in worldly perspective.
However much they believe in urbanism, most Urban Chat participants have
multiple life obligations, from jobs to family issues to parental care, and
can’t spend eight hours a day pushing urbanism.
Plus, with
age comes an understanding of how things work, a knowledge that continually beating
on the door with fists rarely works, a comprehension that finding the key to
the door and the right moment to turn the key is usually more effective.
If those
comments sound like criticisms, know that, although a small handful of years
younger, I include myself among those for whom age has brought both multiple
life obligations and the wisdom to know that shouting is rarely a good
approach.
Compare that
to a recent discussion on my front porch.
In the early evening hours, a tall, lean young man with wild hair and an
untrimmed beard knocked on my door. He
wanted to talk about fracking, the pressurized injection of water and chemicals
into oil fields to increase well production.
It was a
conversation that interested me. I knew
fracking had a long history, but also knew that the rising price of petroleum
was likely to bring new approaches to the endeavor and that the state seemed hesitant
to engage in regulation. I was eager to
learn what this young man had to offer in the way of common sense solutions.
I was disappointed. His fracking philosophy boiled down to two points. “Fracking is evil.” And “Fracking should be banned.” No nuance. No transitional strategy. Nothing.
I tried to
engage him. I suggested that certain
chemicals or higher pressures were likely to be more harmful than other
practices. Nope. Fracking is evil. Fracking should be banned.
I noted that
if fracking supplemented oil production by only ten percent, which seemed low
based on my limited knowledge, ending fracking combined with the inelastic
demand for gasoline might double pump prices.
Didn’t make a difference. Fracking
is evil. Fracking should be banned.
I suggested
that doubling pump prices would put severe stress on lower middle class
families, families who were barely holding onto homes from where they commuted an
hour or more to jobs. And that an action
that greatly increased family bankruptcies could never secure political
support. Didn’t matter. Fracking is evil. Fracking should be banned.
The young
man eventually left, dissatisfied that I couldn’t or wouldn’t share his
black-and-white world. I was equally
dissatisfied that I couldn’t engage him in my world that was filled with greys.
And between
those two vignettes lays the challenge for urbanism. To successfully advocate for urbanism
requires the passion of youth, the wisdom of age, and the ability to combine
the two effectively.
Of course,
the two often don’t blend well. Passion
tires of the slow and tactical pace of worldliness. Worldliness wearies of the shrill and
uncompromising demands of passion. Merging
the two isn’t trivial. But that only
makes it more essential. Urbanism is sufficiently
important to the future of our communities that we can’t allow personal styles
to impede the progress.
I’m six
weeks early for a New Year’s resolutions.
But I expect those resolutions to be (1) attract more young, whose
natural domain is passion, to participate in the land use decisions of their
communities, (2) incite more passion among those who already believe in urbanism,
and (3) find ways to leaven the passion with the wisdom of experience.
I should
close with an acknowledgment that passion isn’t the sole province of the young
nor is worldliness the exclusive property of the old. But the truth frequently enough falls along
those lines that I trust you’ll forgive my generalization.
As always,
your questions or comments will be appreciated.
Please comment below or email me.
And thanks for reading. - Dave Alden (davealden53@comcast.net)
Aside: I suspect this anti-fracking person is the same one who knocked on our door, and when the prominent "No Soliciting" sign was pointed out, said loudly "But I'm a canvasser! There's a difference! Look it up!"
ReplyDeleteDude needs to figure out when he's not gonna make the sale and move on quickly...
Dave: Your post and Dan's response invite two admissions.
ReplyDelete1. I recall with gratitude the older folks who responded to my youthful political passion with straightforward substance, not with dismissal, even though I was not then ready and able to recognize the ones of gray and nuance without despair.
2. And Dan, when I regularly take up my self-designated civic duty and proceed door-to-door in my town and 'hood with campaign literature for issues and candidates whom I determine to be in the better interests of our community, I knock on doors that have signs like yours. I do not ask for sales or money, and I take "No" for a response that does not call for discussion. I have studied the meaning/s of solicit many times and will not lawyer it, being unqualified to do so. The sum total of unpleasant interactions in my experience has been at residences with no such warnings. And I know where you live, Dan! :>
Yeah, Barry, I'm having trouble figuring out how to make the sign say what I really want it to: I welcome discussions with informed locals about issues that they are personally passionate about.
DeleteThat doesn't include "Ugh. All fracking bad!" paid canvassers for whichever 90% on executive salaries 10% on canvasser costs "advocacy" group is currently harassing us for signatures on their petition as a pretext to ask for dollars.
And I wish I'd had more good informed political discussion when I was younger. Specifically, I was something of an Ayn Rand Objectivist, and it would have been good to have discussions with people who actually read and understood her, but then rejected her work, rather than people who stalled out on the Cliff Notes version of Fountainhead and fell back on "but greed bad!". But then it'd still be nice to have those discussions...