Anthony Flint lecture

Wednesday night we went to see Anthony Flint speak at the Boston Public Library. I was interested in learning more about smart growth and New Urbanism, so his presentation was a little disappointing. He gave a basic overview, much of which I already knew: a restructuring of land use as an important tool for combating climate change; careful regional planning in addition to city planning (even so-called "mega-regional" planning, like the area from Boston to DC); retrofitting buildings and old first-suburban neighborhoods as LEED-ND; and mixed-use zoning. He did provide great examples, but I would have loved to hear more in-depth analysis. I suppose I'll have to read his book.

All of this smart growth strikes me as basically advocating this: let's do what the European cities have been doing for centuries -- build people-centered communities in our cities, where your social, financial, material, and dietary needs can be met within walking distance. Or at least biking distance. And I agree.

There were about 100 people in attendance, and the highlight by far was the question-and-answer session at the end. One woman asked how it was feasible to expect a resurgence to the city when all of the Boomers moving in kept bringing their cars with them. "We don't have the space for your car," she exclaimed. "We need that space to make the city livable!" His response was so trite that I can see why she left soon afterwards; Flint explained that although they are bringing their cars to the city, they are using them less while they're there and mass transit more, so it's still a good thing. He didn't even address the issue of space. Perhaps if Boston were a smaller town, a slow-city movement could work here. Still, what do you do when people hold on to their past when you're trying to advocate change? This applies to moving people into smaller spaces like cities as well as shifting consumption patterns for the green movement, and I thought her question was excellent, and needs to be explored.

Notice all the links in this post. Two reasons: I have paid time off right now and so more time to research, and I read this advice on why linking is important. I realize I may have gone a little overboard, but this topic excites me and I read about it a lot.

The whole lecture did reconfirm we should try as hard as we can to not sprawl after this baby is born, but we'll have to figure that one out. Boston and affordability haven't found their mix yet, so the nearly century-old wisdom that sprawl is more affordable still holds for this city.

The Nest of Arlington

I live outside of the Boston/Cambridge area in an inner suburb that realtors still consider "hot." The Boston Globe recently published an article toting this tidbit. It's not that surprising, considering its proximity to the city. Having recently moved here, I can say I'm relieved to be living here and not where we were before, now that I'm pregnant. This town is very family-friendly. But as much as that's a relief, it also concerns me. From what I can tell, as the town becomes more affluent, the typical results surface ... rich, white neighbors with moderate or conservative values. This certainly isn't Wellesley, but it's also not very us. And it's getting more expensive by the minute, in an already overpriced city and housing market. When the baby comes, we may have to move again. And it may be further out from the city. This is not the pattern I value, this sprawl. But as long as it takes my husband to finish his degree, we have to be near Boston, and with a child, that might mean further out. I keep dreaming, as I have for years, of going more rural, having my own organic veggie garden, raising our kids on nature and sunshine and friendly neighbors without any serious worries about money or having a traditional job. All of this preferably in a contemporary, sustainable small home in the middle of a beautiful wooded area but near enough to neighbors "just in case." And now that this baby is coming, I feel this dream even more strongly. I want this nest to be ideal, and ideal isn't a cramped, expensive attic-floor apartment near public transit.
I also have an overwhelming desire to find some secondhand furniture. How can we bring a baby home when we don't even own a couch? Silly I know, but that's how I've been thinking. And I've been researching places like Marlboro, Vermont; Madison, Wisconsin; Asheville, North Carolina; Fort Bragg, California; etc. like a madwoman. Especially mad since hubby has at least a year and a half left of school.

Can you take this?

Oh, it'll be nice to leave ...

Business has been so slow lately. For the past few weeks, there have been more employees than customers. Never a good sign, and today was no exception.

I'm in the midst of redesigning an old display, with a bottle of window cleaner in my hand and used paper towels crumpled up around the floor. I'm standing about 50 feet away from the nearest cash register and there are about three dozen dinner plates stacked up to my right and 24 coffee mugs and boxes of dishtowels to my left.

A customer approaches and barks, "Can you take this?"

I look at her thrusting two small items toward me and contemplate whether I should put down the cleaning solution and hold these items for God knows why or if I should I ask what the hell she's talking about. During that brief pause on my part, she snarls, "Or do I have to take it to another register?"

Oh. So being the farthest person in the entire store from a cash register, and seeing how there are no lines at any of the other six registers and the sales people are absolutely not busy, you've chosen me to be your victim. I have to admit, I'm guilty - I am wearing a nametag.

"Uhh, I guess I can take you over there," I say, and begin the long and ardous process of hiking over the moutain of my displaced display toward a cash register.

She says nothing, and at the end of the transaction, I thank her and wish her a wonderful day. "Yes," she replies, clutching her plastic bag and heading for the exit.

No excuse mes, pleases, thank yous ... I was raised in the Midwest, so let me ask you New Englanders out there: is most of the Northeast rude or is it just a Boston thing?

Fall down, go boom

Apparently you have to experience fireworks on the Esplanade at least once in your lifetime. Or at least that's what the two dozen or so Bostonians have told us in the last two weeks. So last night found us bidding our poor dogs (tail-between-the-legs, are-you-really-leaving-us-in-this-weird-thunderstorm poor dogs) adieu for two hours for the "best fireworks display in the nation." The hype and the hordes of people were beckoning my inner skeptic, but I followed along the throngs of glow-sticks nonetheless. It was on again, off again raining, which pleased my introverted side. We were expecting trouble finding a spot, but we quickly staked out a space and listened to the TV broadcast blaring from a box labelled #22. Heralded by all the news personalities as "spectacular" so many times, I began to set myself up for major disappointment. The usual dance: have hope but don't set your expectations too high or you'll be disappointed so if you have hope, have fear that your hope might be too high for reality and subsequently be prepared for both awe and disappointment; seeing as you're prepared for the two extremes, it'll almost always fall somewhere in the middle, which means it was really nothing at all so what did you get so worked up about to begin with? Last night, however, proved to be the exception: it actually was exceptional. The fireworks were nearly perfectly synchronized with the music, and each show (or song) outdid any and every finale I've ever seen. The rain managed to fall right into my eyes as I watched, but then again, without the rain, there would have been twice as many people.