Milestone

Today my other blog on Provo, (pro(vo)cation) passed 2,000 views. The growth of the blog seems to be accelerating as well, meaning that generally each week is better than the last. Friday, for example, I had 91 hits. There were weeks back in November and December, shortly after I started the blog, that didn't do that well in seven days (which is too bad since I wrote some of my favorite posts at that time).

Anyway, Provo is really doing great so either check out my blog or another blog/website to find out more. Or, even better, just visit.

No Fences In Cedar Hills

Laura and I have been spending a lot of time lately at my parents house in Cedar Hills, Utah. In the past, I've used Cedar Hills as a kind of poster city for the problems inherent in suburban living. While I continue to be shocked and disappointed at how damaging that lifestyle is (environmentally, socially, etc.), there is one unique thing that I really like about my parent's neighborhood: no fences.

When I first visited my parents home after they moved there in 2007 I was at once disappointed and pleasantly surprised. First, I was disappointed because the houses in the neighborhood weren't atypically interesting; though it didn't shock me, they're all pretty much like those any newish housing development. However, what amazed me then and impresses me now is that there are relatively few partitions between the homes. Each house technically has a yard, but for the most part they all run together. The result is that the houses all kind of feel like they're in a park. This also has the added benefit of making the fairly small yards feel spacious. 

Besides making people believe their yard is bigger than it actually is, there seem to be a number of benefits to not having fences. For example, it makes getting from point A to B much faster and more convenient; instead of going around the houses (on the frustratingly winding streets) a person could just cut through all the open yards. (Some people have tried to stop others from doing this, which is really unfortunate.) This also has the potential benefit of encouraging people to walk places instead of drive because the distance can be so much shorter on foot. (And I shouldn't have to mention all the reasons why walking is superior to driving.)

More abstractly, a lack of fences seems to be an argument for community interaction. While suburban architecture seems specifically designed to separate (and therefore isolate, and thus alienate) people, breaking down the barriers between properties symbolically breaks down the barriers between people. Inevitably residents will see and interact more often with their neighbors if there are no fences. I don't think it's a far stretch to suggest that that interaction will engender greater empathy and interest among residents. Just last week while at my parents house I noticed how I could actually see into the neighbor's house at night (and presumably they could see into my parents house). Admittedly, that raises questions about voyeurism and the like, but it also served as a reminder that there were people all around me. I wasn't in an isolated little island of personal space. I was sharing an environment with other people. As a non-resident of the area I don't really have a relationship with the people in the neighborhood, but the lack of fences nevertheless seems to be a promising way to combat the social entropy that some claim is inherent in suburbia. 

Unfortunately, fences are slowly going up in Cedar Hills. Some seem to be designed to keep pets in, while others look like they're simply to prevent people from cutting across the yard. Though I hope it doesn't happen, I wouldn't be surprised if in five or ten years all the houses in the area had fences. Still, keeping the neighborhood open is a good idea. Suburban living is perhaps the least efficient and socially conscious lifestyle out there, but if tearing down fences doesn't make anything greener it at least encourages people to see themselves first and foremost as members of a community. Ultimately then, in this case and unlike other suburbs across the nation, Cedar Hills has figured something out that surprisingly begins chip away at the problems of suburban life. 

Picking Apples (Part 2)

My recent apple picking experiences have led me to ponder the roles of urban vegetation.  These experiences have also reminded me of a presentation I attended a while ago at the old Gallery 110 in Provo.  The presentation was on urban gardening and while I felt the presenter focused too much on symbolic acts of urban guerrilla environmentalism that ultimately couldn’t effect any change, it was a useful experience for pointing out that most city plants exists only for beautification purposes.

 

The apple trees that Laura and I recently found and harvested are a good example of this fact.  The trees provide shade and look nice, and for most people that’s apparently all they’re good for.  Similarly, Provo and BYU campus have numerous plum trees all over, but they’re trimmed to minimize how much fruit they produce because the fruit is seen as a nuisance that dirties sidewalks and streets.  And of course, most lawns, trees, and bushes in urban environments bear no fruit at all and simply exist for people to enjoy. 

 

I appreciate plants that beautify, but picking bag after bag of apples recently has led me to consider more seriously why urban vegetation can’t be visually pleasing and productive.  Would Provo’s plum or apple trees be any less pretty, for example, if they were pruned to maximize their fruit yield instead of being trimmed to eliminate it?  As I run and walk the streets of Provo (and, in the past, other cities I’ve lived in) I always notice new saplings planted in parks and yards.  Occasionally these are fruit trees, but usually they aren’t.  Why is that?  What is to be lost by planting fruit trees more often than simply “attractive” trees?  There may be slightly more research required to maintain a fruit tree (though any nursery worker should be able to answer questions), and of course someone will eventually have to make the effort to pick the fruit, but those seem like small prices to pay for the reward of having delicious homegrown food (that is also essentially free).  

 

There are opportunities to turn urban settings into productive gardens right now.  Again, Provo’s fruit trees provide a good example.  Right now someone has to go around and trim them, so if they’re putting forth the effort anyway why not spend a little more time and prune them for their fruit?  Of course, this would take some extra training and know-how, but the fruit itself could easily offset the cost.  For example, cities could plant fruit trees along boulevards and pedestrian paths, and then charge local residents a small fee to come and pick the fruit on certain days of the year.  It’d be like going to a farmers market, except that the “venders” (i.e. the trees) would be spread throughout the city and people would get to pick the fruit themselves.  Cities could make a little extra cash, people would get fresh organic food, and there wouldn’t be rotting undersized fruit all over sidewalks.  Everybody would win.

 

I know that’s a simplified assessment of the situation, and I’m not advocating some kind of public orchard system.  Instead, I think that urban vegetation could serve many communities much better than it currently does.  I don’t think (as some do) that every square inch of dirt in a city needs to be planted with carrots and lettuce (though I’m not opposed to that idea), but it seems that many communities currently put forth a lot of effort to maintain their plants.  Why not focus that effort so it produces both beauty and fruit?

He’s Just Not That Into You: A Fantasy about White, Upper-Class, Urban Professionals

What makes the recent romantic comedy He’s Just Not That Into You so frustrating is that it completely botches what could have been an interesting and entertaining premise.  Unfortunately,  the movie takes all the conventions we might normally see in a rom-com and slathers them with an insipid, faintly bigoted tone. 

Basically, He’s Just Not That Into You tells the story of a bunch of urban professionals and their various pursuits of love.  The assorted relationships are complex and intertwined, but not interesting enough to go into here.  What actually stands out is how unsympathetic all the characters are.  Ginnifer Goodwin’s Gigi, for example, is the axis around which everything else seems to rotate, but she is also a socially retarded stalker.  It’s not remotely funny or endearing (though it tries to be), and by the end of the movie I just wanted something really bad to happen to her.  To some extent or another, that’s how I actually felt about most of the characters: they’re flat, uninteresting stereotypes that aren’t even fun in a mindless romantic-comedy way. 

Still, what makes this particular movie worth mentioning isn’t it’s trite story (which could nevertheless have been interesting), but rather the strangely homogenous world it seems to advocate.  In this world almost everyone is white.   If they aren’t white they’re probably a construction worker, which also means they’re an undocumented immigrant.  Also, everyone is rich and lives in hip, spacious apartments with exposed brick.  (Or, when Ben Affleck breaks up with Jennifer Aniston, he luckily has an expensive yacht to live on).   Similarly, all the character’s work environments are absurdly cool.  Each work place looks like an Ikea ad.  At Drew Barrymore’s job, the men can actually walk around with their shirts unbuttoned to their waists.  (Don’t get me wrong; I think it’d be cool to work in a place like that, I just am skeptical that such places exist and if they do why are they all in this one movie?)       

The main problem with this hyper-cool world is that it leaves a lot of people out while actively marginalizing others.  For example, Luis Guzman’s portrayal of Javier was actually one of the more entertaining performances, but he was only on screen for a few minutes (and wasn’t even credited).  There are a number of African American actors in the film, but they all have minor roles and work for the more successful white characters.  Maybe these casting decisions were made to appeal to some specific audience, but I just kept wondering why the filmmakers didn’t include any non-white actors in their ensemble cast.  The ensemble was big enough to do so, and there are many successful actors who don’t identify as white, so it almost seems like an active decision to cut minorities out of the picture. 

If the portrayal of minorities in He’s Just Not That Into You is problematic, the way it deals with homosexuality is simply offensive.  Like a number of Hollywood productions that have come before, this film seems to think that all gay men are effete, lispy stereotypes that are only good for comic relief.  The entire film I kept waiting to be introduced to a major gay character, or at least someone who was complicated and who didn’t fit a stereotype that was forged in 90s sitcoms and was outdated from the beginning.  Unfortunately what did happen was that like the film’s racial minorities, homosexuals played insignificant parts and served merely as a foil for more important characters.  Thus, in the end, the film’s attempts at diversity only ended up confirming its thesis that rich, white people are the coolest and have all the fun.

He’s Just Not That Into You is, in a round about way, a descendant of Sex and the City, which itself seems to be part of a larger trend to telling stories about cool urbanites and all their hip adventures.  Maybe I should be paying more attention to this genre; I think that urban living is culturally attractive and has the potential to be environmentally ethical.  However, this film disregarded all of the social benefits of urban living in favor of a strange, homogenous fantasy.  If all film might be accused of being fantasy, this film took it to a different level by saying that only white, upper-class, urban professionals get invited to the party.