Today As If Tomorrow Mattered

#229, July 16, 2009

 

Thwap!” It’s the signature sound of bundled paper slapping cool concrete, followed by the moan of an engine and four rubber tires on asphalt. “Thwapthwapthwap, retreating down the street. The morning news arrives, sheathed in its protective plastic skin come rain or poorly aimed Rainbird. In those good old days newspapers were delivered by a paperboy or papergirl riding a fat-tired Schwinn. But something has happened out there; little Johnny and Suzie have grown up, and they need extra income so they swerve their old Toyota through pre-dawn suburbia, flinging this endangered news medium through windows (of the Toyotas, not the homes… which reminds me of when I played the first-generation Nintendo game “Paperboy” with my son. We liked to *aim* for the picture windows, gleeful to hear that synthesized “crash… crash…crash”)

 

The morning paper, such a bittersweet ritual. There is always something to sink your teeth into while you chomp your Cheerios: once it was the LTE wondering why we now get plastic with our paper, protection that used to come only with wet weather. Oh, that’s because too many people complained that their ArChroniCrat was getting soaked by their sprinklers. Hmmmm… chomp, chomp, chomp.

 

Look, here’s Bruce Hagen in the Argus again... yawn… chomp, chomp. He’s been off the columnist beat for six months, dancing to a different drummer, though the song remained the same, the tempo insane.

 

A few things have happened since January, eh? Sweet housing boom is now housing bubble popped like a flavorless gumbubble, stuck in our face. Price of oil gone up like the stuff was made of decomposed dinosaurs. Santa’s elves taking swimming lessons. Lot’s of F words: freakinfloods, freak lightning lighting freakin’ fires, Freddiemac/Fanniemae F.U.B.A.R. What’s a fellow to do?

 

Those plastic newspaper bags… why? Why not run the risk of wettage? Dude, one must consider the full lifecycle costs, compare the eco-carbon footprint of the extra extra 100 bags to the impact of a second drive out to the neighborhood to deliver replacement papers. Hmmm… let’s keep thinking about full lifecycle costs, okay? (all those who want to have a full lifecycle here on earth raise their hands and holler hallelujiah!) Why not slow down the Toyota and take better aim? Why not read the wet paper as a sign that your sprinklers need adjusting,  or (better still) plow under your lawn for the fall planting of broccoli and kale. Why not bring back the bicycles, give the kids some exercise and extra cash (but not extra crash, thank you.)

 

Full lifecycle accounting will aid in passage to the promised land (my new motto: “Today as if Tomorrow Mattered”). Did the Current Occupant (Garrison Keillor’s term for GWB) consider what might happen in Afghanistan when he abandoned the hunt for Bin Laden for his adventures in Iraq? It’s happening. Doh!

 

Cheers to the Petaluma City Council of June  for unanimously supporting the requirement of Community Impact Reports for major retail development projects. Jeers to Councilmembers Frietas, Harris, Nau, O’Brien, and Rabbit, who on July 7 back-flopped away from a strong CIR strategy by seeking to exempt the large projects in the pipeline from CIRs. Why wouldn’t they want to be informed of *all* the impacts these projects have on our community, not just on water and traffic but on jobs, on shopping opportunities, on the demand for social services. What do we gain by assuming the developers will put the community interests above their desire for a higher ROI? When shopping for new City Council members this autumn, consider their position on CIRs an indication of who they will represent.

 

As for my life-cycle… I think about my six column-free months: I’ve spent a lot of time at the Phoenix Theater and the McNear Park Community Garden. Protecting and growing our permaculture community institutions, our community spirit—that’s the food that sustains my soul. Let the bad news land on our doorstep… we’ll burn it and bury it, and rise from the ashes and the compost, fresh and green, reaching for the light of a new day.