Craig
Calcaterra, a baseball writer with NBC Sports, recently wrote about the acceptance of change. He was specifically writing about changes
within the game of baseball, but his conclusions can be applied to other areas
of human endeavor, such as land use.
The article
runs moderately long. For those on a
time budget, I’ll summarize.
Baseball
writers can fall into the trap of idealizing an earlier era of baseball, often
the year when they were twelve years old.
It’s the age when burgeoning adolescence and an increasing awakening to
the world makes all seem perfect and eternal in the world of sports.
(I
understand the sentiment. My favorite team
won the World Series the year that I was twelve. They rode dominant pitching, solid defense,
and a pesky offense to the title. To
this day, that combination of team skills is my preferred brand of
baseball. I always prefer a well-played
3-1 game over a 13-11 offensive explosion.)
It’s okay to
hold fond memories about an idyllic time of youth. But it becomes a problem when fond memories
give way to a pig-headed insistence on the need to return to that past, arguing
that the game of baseball has only gotten worse over the intervening years.
In
Calcaterra’s view, we learn something new every day, becoming a “new Craig”
that replaces the “old Craig”. That
constant process of change and improvement is an essential part of embracing of
life.
To reject all
the “incremental Craigs”, or to never have allowed those “incremental Craigs”
to be born, in favor of an often misremembered idyllic past is a form of death.
I concur
with Calcaterra. I remember the baseball
of the 1960s with fondness, but can also acknowledge its flaws. The lingering racial prejudices, the unreported
abuse of amphetamines, the flawed game strategies, and the hagiographic
press. Baseball has made progress on all
of those fronts since the 1960s. Admittedly,
the progress has often been accompanied by missteps, but overall the game is better
played today than ever before. And to
dismiss that reality is to dismiss a fundamental act of living.
The same thought
process applies to land use.
I remember
the neighborhoods in which I spent the 1960s.
Single-family homes on large lots fronted by expansive green lawns. Wide streets well-suited for youthful games
of baseball or football. The ennui of long
summer afternoons when the only friends in walking distance didn’t want to play.
Trips in the family car for any task, whether
buying a quart of milk, picking up laundry, or going to a youth baseball game.
At the time,
occasional youthful complaints aside, it felt like a reasonable way to
live. Indeed, I couldn’t have conceived
of any other way to live.
But the
cracks that only the most discerning eye could have spotted in the 1960s have
consistently grown since then. The municipal
inability to pay for maintenance of those wide streets. The growing environmental issues around the
hydrocarbon use epitomized by those trips in the family car. And now the water issues over those green
lawns.
So, just as
in baseball, I can remember the 1960s land-use patterns with fondness while
also appreciating the better thinking that is now making inroads into land-use
planning. The increased focus on
walkable urbanism, with its improved municipal finances, reduced climate change
impact, and less water use.
But I don’t expect
that urbanism is a finished product.
Every day, I awake eager to learn new nuances and to find ways to share
that new information with you. I hope to
welcome each dawn as a “new Dave” for as many years as possible.
As
Calcaterra acknowledges, we all eventually reach the day when new stuff begins
to elude us, when we become curmudgeonly about new-fangled ways of
thinking. But the goal is to delay that
day as long as possible.
I’m reminded
of a story about long-time Supreme Court Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes on the day
he finally stepped down from the Court at the age of 91. A fellow Justice, concerned about the effect
of the retirement on his old friend, stopped by to check on Holmes later the
same day. He was surprised to find
Holmes deep into a book by Plato.
When his
friend expressed surprise at the continued study, Holmes explained that he had
to prepare himself for whatever would come next in his life.
I’m not
Oliver Wendell Holmes, but I certainly hope to emulate him in how I view land
use, baseball, and whatever else catches my attention in my remaining years of
life.
In my next
post, I’ll recount a recent on-line exchange with neighbors about how to better
control traffic to a nearby high school.
It was a discussion of legitimate concerns combined with misunderstandings
about the nature of car drivers. It also
gave some bittersweet insights into the changing of generations.
As always,
your questions or comments will be appreciated.
Please comment below or email me.
And thanks for reading. - Dave Alden (davealden53@comcast.net)
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