My boss and I, urban planner Jim Vines, arrived at the town
of Dierks, Arkansas at late morning. Our first stop was the Mayor’s office. A nice
man, he was glad for attention. If the local mill, which dominated the city,
wanted a plan and zoning control, he was all for it.
I sat flabbergasted at the skill at which Jim answered
questions and soothed any concerns the Mayor had about the process. All would
be well, just let us get busy and start gathering data. If anyone called in
about strange men taking notes on their property, just tell them the men are working
on behalf of the city.
We went to work. The job involved documenting the land use of
every property in town, the condition of any structure or structures, and the
type of street serving the property. The drafter back at office had provided us
with a nice map on which to make notes. No problem.
Jim drove so he could make mental notes as well. He instructed
me as to what to write on the map, and we wove in and out of the neighborhoods.
It was fun and instructive, but there were times when a
former sailor who had stood unphased on the fantail of a ship slogging and rolling through
heavy seas in the Bermuda Triangle, would become slightly nauseated. Jim
anticipated this. Surveying land uses could be a nauseous process, Why, he
said, I should have been along when, as a student in a summer job during
graduate school, he had assisted undertaking a land use survey in Downtown
Oklahoma City in August.
That didn’t help, but we made it through the day and proceeded
to a local motel. We checked in, had dinner, talked and watched TV. Bedtime
came, and I showered first. While Jim was doing so, I prepared for bed in what
had been my nighttime attire for the last four years, navy skivvies.
When the bathroom door opened and Jim walked out, I felt a
sharp pang of embarrassment. He had donned silk pajamas and a rather elegant bathrobe.
I couldn’t remember the last time I had seen a man wearing pajamas other than
in the movies, and the old ones at that. I made a mental note to buy a pair. I
also resolved never again to spend the night in a motel or hotel room with
anyone other than a wife, should I ever have one, as long as I had control of
things.
We got to work early the next day, finished, stopped to tell
the Mayor we had, and headed back to Little Rock. I felt like an explorer who
had just discovered a hitherto unknown river. My first planning job was
underway, albeit a tiny town of less than fifteen hundred people. It stood
among the grandest of cities to me.
I still go through the town on occasion. Time has dealt unkindly
with it. Plants close or shrink without a sigh in our state. Our supreme court ruled
recently that corporations are humans. If so, they lack the one thing that holds
out hope for our species—a heart. The city of Dierks recorded a population of 1,133
at the 2010 census, down from 1,230 in 2000, following a trend for most small
communities in southern Arkansas.
Do they still have a plan? I don’t know. I’ve never stopped
to ask.
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| Things change, especially our cities |
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