At work, the projects were progressing. We might make the
April deadline after all. The rancor had subsided, replaced by a raw sense of
purpose.
They had quit making sly little comments about my being a 26-year-old bachelor. I think they had decided that I really might be gay. I let them harbor
whatever thoughts they chose. It didn’t matter to me. Well … being the “devil
may care” charming joker that I am, I may have affected some occasional mannerisms
to torment them and, more likely, to throw them off. It kept them from trying
to line me up with their 400-pound cousins.
I know. I’ll pay for things like that if there really is
ever a judgement day. In the meantime, I held on to my standards. I would wait
for a woman who had secrets, knew how to use them, and knew how to keep them.
What else could you want in a soulmate?
But, back to my fledgling career as an urban planner. They
proceeded with plans to tear up Capitol Avenue, just below our office window,
and make it into an ersatz replica of a modern mall. Since they had not asked
my opinion, I decided to let them proceed with the insanity.
At home evenings, I had found my old copy of Design With Nature, by the immortal Ian McHarg.
Today, they often refer to him as the “father of GIS.” His approach, the use of
polygon overlays, forms the basis of many complex analyses and reports
performed with Geographic Information Systems. His use of those overlays to solve
urban design challenges formed the basis for many modern approaches to
planning.
I had actually seen the man speak at Fayetteville. His
strong Scottish brogue and highly elevated thoughts created a tough cognitive
shield, but a little of his wisdom had sneaked its way into my psyche. Now I wish
that it had for others as well. I seem to recall that he used the term "low-grade urban smear," once to describe our settlement patterns.
At the time of which I write, he was a voice in the
wilderness and he once got me into a lot of trouble with a man named Paul Greenberg. I will dutifully
relate the experience further down the line. I noticed back then that his writings bore no
resemblance to the things my bosses had given me to read. It was a matter of
controlling and conquering our natural environment, or designing human habitation
in harmony with nature as a co-equal but governing partner.
You guessed it. The other side won and our planet may burn
itself to a crisp as a result.
Allow me a short break. How did I go from women to urban
planning to direful warning of the coming apocalypse? Oh, it may be that the
wisdom of women, a turn to the sequential thinking of planning our environment,
and the electing of better leaders may be our only hope as a species. Don’t
hold your breath, though.
As I was contemplating these things, a short and spritely
woman with one of those highly educated minds was sashaying her way through the
final days of her college experience. No doubt she would have taken one look at
me and said, “Who the hell are you?”
Maybe I would grow on the job and make myself more worthy.
After all, I had my Gibson guitar and my copies of Design With Nature, The
Wasteland, and The Golden Bough.
With those in hand, Isaac Hayes on the phonograph, and a bottle of sweet white
wine nearby, I could get better.
I would get better. I was determined. As great person once
said, “The height of our life’s mountain is based on the solidness of a
foundation formed by bitterly learned lessons and bravely fought struggles.”
On no, that wasn’t from a great person. Not at all. I said
that.
 |
| Ian said that. A little harsh? Read the headlines. |
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