Zealous nuts

Just when I needed it, the newsletter for the Project for Public Spaces arrived in my inbox. Zealous nuts are non-experts, "impassioned citizens" who take it upon themselves to improve the urban landscape by spearheading intelligent development or redevelopment -- markets, public squares, better parks -- the kinds of things that help to make healthier cities. None of the activities catalogued will really prevent the sun from burning off our eyebrows in the next 50 years, but anything that pulls people out of the mindset that you've got to have a 1/2 acre plot in the suburbs with a multi-level swingset and a barbecue that uses a Saturn V booster for a fuel source has got to be a good thing, no?

I'm just casting around for reasons to be optimistic. I had a note from a dear friend yesterday, sharing my feelings of fear that our extinction is imminent and worrying about what to do with a growing anxiety that seems not to be shared by most people. It's hard to find those straws to clutch, but so important that we do. If we don't find a way to carve out a minute or so from each day to remember why all of this is worth worrying about, then it becomes too easy to give up and, like Stephen Hawking, make plans to run away from the disgusting mess we've made.

My seeds are up. I wanted to take pictures, but I think the young lady who looks after our son may already think I'm completely nuts, and I didn't want her to see me hunched over in the mud, trying to take macro shots of little baby kale seedlets. It was a near-run thing, this germination. It was almost too hot for it. I'll say that again. Too hot for seeds to germinate. I didn't know that, outside of blast furnace temperatures, such a thing was possible. The table in the book I'm reading suggests that once things get beyond about 97 degrees fahrenheit, it gets dodgy. It got dodgy. But they're up, and doing well, and when I have a chance, I'll put some pictures of nice green sprouts here.

In our city, zealous nuts are in short supply. I'll need to learn how to be one. No. Pretty sure I am one. I just need to learn how to let the secret out. I've blogged before about the big parking lot across the street from our house (a couple of streets over, really). It's owned by a big insurance company. Sun Life. The parking lot is never more than 2/3 full. When it was put in place, in 1998, there was a bit of a scandal. The company owned a block of houses which they rented out. They had reassured tenants that there were no short term plans to develop. And then, one day, out of the blue, they sent around letters saying that they planned to doze the houses flat so their employees would have lots of room to spread out their SUVs. There was such a public outcry, replete with stories of sobbing tenants ripping gardens out of houses they'd lived in for years, sacrificing costly renovations they'd paid for themselves, that Sun Life, in an act of incredible benevolence, allowed ten houses to remain and let them be used by a variety of service organizations and health agencies, rent free. They took out a whole neighbourhood. But now they say they are on a hiring frenzy, need the space and so will knock those last remaining houses down and clear the block. They won't say how many people they're hiring, nor what their plans are for the hundred or so spots that sit vacant every day. They say they're being incredibly nice about all of this because, after all, they did not kick everyone off the block for a few extra years and, quoting from their press release, they've taken "pride in the attractive green spaces....around our Waterloo office." Really. Nice 1 metre wide swatches of grass winding between the cars. Not sure why they're as weed free as golf greens, but I can guess. I wouldn't be surprised to see a grazing herd of elk show up one day to squeeze between all those cars for a nice, green feed. I walk past this huge grey plain every day and I shake my head, imagining the things that could be done with that space, right on Main Street. A square, fountains, benches, chess sets, trees, markets. Sun Life could even help out by allowing public access to the space on weekends for special events. But no. Instead they've put up big signs threatening to tow your ass if you venture in with a car. Especially if you're borrowing a bit of Sunday space to go visit your grandmother in the hospital next door. They mention this explicitly. Not your grandmother, but the hospital. And, still, it sits empty. I imagine they must be worried about the liability that comes with sharing. Insurance is so expensive these days. It would probably be easier for Sun Life to be a good corporate citizen if they were doing a bit better....but....they're only worth about $400 billion, and their stock price has only risen about 50% in the last 5 years. The insurance business is such a mug's game.

The other day, as I was driving to work (yes, driving again...still no fucking bike seat) I got caught up in a big traffic jam in front of Sun Life. A hoary old man in a black suit (looking a bit like one of those ancient British bankers in Mary Poppins) was being wheeled out of a stretch limo and into the Sun Life building. We all had to sit and wait as Mr. Moneybags was safely stowed in the tower. I'm not normally a violent man, but I must admit my toe twitched just a little bit on the accelerator....