Lifelines

Last week, the New York area was hit with a mid-summer storm that brought a deluge of rain, not to mention the first tornado to Brooklyn in over a century. In the aftermath of the event, where New Yorkers were making new friends while waiting for the next subway train, or cursing to themselves while they sat in traffic on the region's parkways (which is where I found myself), a significant backlash hit against those who are in control of these lifelines of commerce and connections. The millions of people who crowd in and around the island of Manhattan rely on these modes of transportation to conduct their daily business, and their daily lives. When everything shut down for a time on account of a bit of rain (it was actually around 1.7 inches between 6 a.m. and 7 a.m. that fateful day), people turned to the holders of the puppet strings of New York's transportation system for answers.

Generally, the response was one of being unprepared for the onslaught, as the severity of the storm was not expected by the transportation hierarchy. The finger pointing merry-go-round went from the Metropolitan Transportation Authority to the National Weather Service to global warming. But in the end, after the water has drained away, the realization becomes how fragile the whole system really is. Together all of us head out into the world each day, seemingly, and in reality, in a multiplicity of different directions. Every commuter for yourself, so back off! But what we often forget is that we're all in it together, and need to work with one another to keep things running smoothly. And although the system appeared to crumble on the morning of August 8, 2007, in reality, it demonstrated how resilient New York continues to prove itself time and again. Within hours, most of the transportation network had been restored, and people resumed their daily tasks -- almost as if nothing had happened.

The fragility of our lifelines is a theme that has traveled across the nation recently. The deadly bridge collapse in Minneapolis was a national story. In New York, we followed it with the same attention as anywhere across the nation. The fallout from this tragedy was a renewed effort to inspect the bridges across America. The result was a staggering number of spans that require some significant attention. Where the money will come from is another story altogether. The theme of precarious lifelines spans the centuries as well. Archeologists studying the ancient city of Angkor in Cambodia, believed to have been as sprawling as Los Angeles, have learned that the crumbling of the Southeast Asian metropolis in the 1500s may have been caused by the collapse of its highly sophisticated water management system. The sheer scale of the endeavor was its ultimate downfall. The caretakers could no longer maintain the system. The connections between our own transportation issues are instructive.

No matter how great our monuments become, we must keep in mind that without the lifelines that serve them, there is no way to sustain, or support them. The Angkor Wat temple stands as a testament of Angkor's fate. As American metropolitan areas have fanned out to the far reaches of the hinterlands, it is imperative that transportation remains at the forefront of any planning for the future. It may not be the most intriguing aspect of a new project, but it may very well be the most important.

Ah, Nature . . .

The other day I found myself on a site visit which required me to literally hike through some of the remaining woods of Long Island. Rather than curse my fate, I took a moment to look around at my surroundings. In this most delightful time of year, with the trees in full bloom blanketing the landscape, it seems fitting to think a little about the natural environment around us. Living as most of us do in metropolitan areas, it is hard to imagine that at one time not too long ago most of the places we live and work and play today once roamed free from asphalt and other forms of impervious coverage. But in our push further and further into the natural habitats of the fauna and flora that have resisted us thus far, is there a way to strike a balance? Nature has always worked on the principle of balance -- a push is always met with a response, with some semblance of resolution resulting from the opposing forces. However, with the human race clearly pushing harder than all other species combined, how are the other animal life forms on this planet to respond?

One answer comes from Florida, where the bald eagle, once only the symbol of American democracy, is now a symbol of adaptation in a world in which it fights a seemingly losing battle. Rather than accepting its fate towards extinction, the species has returned with a vengeance in the last few decades. Rather than fighting the incessant suburban development taking place across the state's peninsula, the bald eagle has embraced the new opportunities for habitat, including nesting in cellphone towers, landfills, airport runways and along highways around the Sunshine State. Since 1963, the number of nesting pairs of bald eagles in the United States has increased from around 400 up to near 10,000 today, with Florida at the forefront of this renaissance. The bald eagle has proven to be a tough bird -- fitting for the nation it finds itself to be an important representative. As one biologist notes, "If eagles were thin-skinned, there wouldn't be an eagle in the United States."

Aside from nature's answer to development, people have recognized the value of a little nature and have turned back to bringing it back to their homes. One story out of The Wall Street Journal chronicles the recent push to recreate parcels in the middle of metropolitan areas into parkland. ("The Focus-Grouped Park," June 29, 2007). But in this age where everything has to be bigger and better, the parks of the 21st Century need to offer something exciting and new. Aside from such ventures as Atlanta's Belt Line initiative, which includes a push to turn a fallow quarry into a new recreational space, and Gold Medal Park in Minneapolis, which has turned a sea of asphalt parking lots into a public green, the real emblem of cities bringing back nature is the fittingly named Great Park in Irvine, California. To be constructed on a portion of the former El Toro Marine Corps Air Station, the new public space will cover an astounding 1,347 acres, and include a wildlife habitat area. Part of a deal brokered with a developer seeking to construct on the remaining portion of the tract, the new park will offer Orange County residents easy access away from the modern realities of the region's built up environment. Of course, in true California fashion, most people will have to drive to get there.

Nonetheless, this trend towards bringing back nature is one that may hint at a continuing push back to a greener way of life. Sure, we won't ever abandon our greedy ways, pushing ever further into the hinterlands. But these small steps hint at the need for us to adapt our mindset. Just as the bald eagle has done with its chosen home, our own habitat is one that requires continuing change, in order to ensure that we stick around for awhile in an environment we actually can enjoy. Even though I must admit that it wasn't exactly my favorite thing to be hiking through the woods of Long Island, I was definitely glad that there was a little bit left still to see. Even if I never have to go back, the thought of its existence is just as satisfying.