Hoofin' the Toxic Mile

I would like to offer my admiration, applause, whistles, and prostrations to San Francisco, New York, Boston, Chicago, Philadelphia, Seattle, Washington D.C., Long Beach, Los Angeles and Portland for being the most walkable cities in America. A recent survey by Walk Score ranked the walkability of the top 40 U.S. cities. I'm sorry to say that none of the metropolitan areas close to me are at the top of the list. In fact, I'm sure that the only reason they are on the list at all is because of their size. Of course, I'm not surprised given that my area has no public transportation and boasts the most cars per household in the state.

I can't help but feel somewhat (okay, a lot) envious of the thousands of people who are able to take walks around their own neighborhoods and cities, stopping occasionally to shop at local markets, drink coffee and chat at outdoor cafes, or to simply sit on a park bench surrounded by towering oaks, fragrant blossoms, and the smiles and laughter of other contented citizens. If you are one of the people who get to live in a community like this, give thanks that your city has their local citizens in mind when planning. It is truly a blessing.

In spite of all my whining, I do have a local park close to my home. It is certainly not the best of parks, but considering that gas is about four dollars a gallon and that the next park closest to me is a 15-20 minute drive, it is the one I use. My husband and I walk our dogs every evening around this park. I have come to refer to it as "the toxic mile." There is a track circling a small pond effervescing with duck poo, plastic bags and bottles, old fishing lines, and miscellaneous other types of trash and waste that has made its way into the pond. Unfortunately, the paltry tax dollars brought in by the newly built quarter to half million dollar homes only allow the pond to be cleaned once or twice a year. The rest of the year, the excrement and trash are stirred and frothed by the two bubbling fountains in the middle of the pond. I keep hoping that next year, possibly on one of their tax-sponsored trips to Las Vegas, the city council will come up with a solution to address this problem since they don't like any of the ideas rendered by the local tax base. Meanwhile, I can't help but feel incredibly sorry for the poor ducks who, on top of being chased and hit with rocks thrown by white-trash, undisciplined children, have to call that disgraceful pond their home.