I've used cars for about half my life. In elementary school I was a "walker", as opposed to a "busser". In middle and high school I became a "busser", but that's mass transit. Hardly the caleber of fuel-wasting, single-passenger transport claimed by cars. For the year I worked between high school and college, I walked to and from my apartment to work, or took the city bus. In college I lived on campus, so I could walk, bike, or take the city bus to wherever I needed or wanted to go. So far, my carbon foot print was pretty light.
Then I got married. At 22 I became part-owner of one Toyota 2x4 pick-up, Garnet Pearl. By 23 we'd also aquired a Nissan Sentra, model E. No radio, manual windows and transmission. It was bare-bones, but a gas-guzzling machine none-the-less. I was it's primary driver - sometimes 5 miles, sometimes 50.
Five years later we had our daughter, Anne, and the madness escallated. After all, I was a stay-at-home mom. The baby needed playdates, Kindermusic, and trips to the zoo. I remember one year in particular, when Anne was smitten with living creatures of all kinds, we guzzled our way to the Denver Zoo on a weekly, and sometimes semi-weekly basis. Living 50 miles north was no deterrent. What else was there to do, but indulge her in this seemingly harmless way?
She started school, and I started back to work, and the petroleum pig-out continued, unabated. I have wanted to stop or at least slow down. Her school and my work are both a mere two miles away. It'd be easy enough to walk or bike.
Making an even stronger case for carless transportation, we live within blocks of the library, at least two grocery stores, a great gym, restaurants, a theatre, coffee shops, a great book store, and even more shopping. We verily purchased our home based on pedestrianability of its address. So, what's the problem?
I wish I knew, but for almost a decade this desire for carless transportation has bedeviled me. This year will see my 40th year on this carbon-based life-form planet. I hereby resolve that the madness will calm. I will walk, during which time meditation, exercise, noticings, and lovely conversations with Anne will occur. Or maybe I will just keep driving. But this is the year I will try. I will try to walk, bike, hitch a ride, bus, or telecommute my way everywhere.
Some days it will simply mean getting my work done at work. Walking home for two miles with 40 lbs in tow is out of the question. Other days it could mean walking with Anne to the Post Office, picking up Harold's (my wonderful husband and her father) car, and driving her to piano lessons from there. The P.O. is only a mile from school and work. He can walk home. If he agrees. Otherwise, maybe we'll bike home, then catch a bus to Mrs. Bashford's. At any rate, life will necessitate some degree of cooperation and coordination. Harold's on board in theory. We'll see how he feels when the time comes.
For those of you lucky enough to live in a pedestrian society, or a very bike-friendly city like Portlan, Oregon, this may seem a small endeavor. A pittence. What's the big deal? I'm getting older, that's what it is. I feel a moral obligation to conserve as much as I reasonably can, leaving a cleaner planet for generations to come. Clearly my body needs more regular exercise, and my daughter is becoming a young woman. All these forces conspire together to bring me to the obvious conclusion that walking is the answer. It's the answer to working smarter not harder (I'm a teacher and Instructional Coach at an elementary school. Our work is continual), it reduces polution, conserves the use of a costly machine (namely, the car), provides regular exercise, and conversation with Anne.
The conversation that walks elicit are different than any other conversation setting. It's private, but with the benefit of distractions. Tough topics and even the rogue tear can easily be concealed by glancing in a new direction, where there'll likely be something new to pretend to notice. Ambulatory movement brings glucosamine to the brain, strengthening neural connections, and the visual and olfactory senses are stimulated. She'll talk much more openly with me when we're walking, and I'll be thinking ever-so-much-more clearly.
It's scary. Tomorrow will be the 4th of January in Colorado. In a word, cold. I'll need snow pants, a long down coat, scarf, serious mittens (the kind used for skiing, rather than the thin knit kind used for...show?), boots, and heavy clothes. In the backpack will go a light lunch, a book, and by wallet and keys. That's it. Oh! Sunglasses. I'll need them for the return walk home. The morning will still be dark at 6 a.m.
Ah! The other issue. Besides bringing loads of work home, which I rarely touch anyway, the car allows me to sleep a bit later and still arrive at work before seven a.m. Walking will mean early rising.
We'll see how it goes.
No comments:
Post a Comment