Category: The Friendly City

The year is ending, and I’m walking uphill again. I cross the square under a low, cloudy sky and stroll up Green Street, then turn onto Chicago Avenue, thinking that it’s the last time I will write this column, remembering why I started.

Imagine your town was not going to last forever. If it was to be changed beyond recognition, what would you wish to salvage from the remains? If you had to leave, what would you want to take with you?

There is something inspiring about the first real breath of cold. We had almost forgotten that our city could produce this weather.

Admittedly, it was an odd decision to walk to the mall. Malls were not made to fit a walker’s routine. These massive, enclosed shopping centers arose in the 1950s, part of a shift that included the growth of the suburbs and automobile culture. Malls are often blamed for the decay of American city centers, because their superstores and movie theaters drew people away from local downtown venues, encouraging residents to discard a walk to the corner store in favor of a drive to the mall.

This year, my year of walking in the Friendly City, I am thankful for the steps: the secluded pedestrian steps, half concealed by foliage and bridge rails, that offer safe passage to local walkers.

There is a forest near my house, but I’ve never walked there. I can see it from the bike path that branches off from Third Street, where I often stroll, but a fence separates me from the dense trees that beckon across the distance, raising their rusty branches against the ashen sky.