Examination of our social and cultural values must, of necessity, begin at home or be brought back to the environment we shape with our actions and inaction. A young Canadian cyclist, logging some of his 20,000 planned kilometers in our region, clarified the need for remedial action. This athletic youth has gifted himself with a commencment present of a trek through his nation and the US, building muscle and mind, observing as he goes. Although he apparently enjoyed his brief stay with our hosting family, his observations of our city were not so kind. "Disruption emanated from the streets...broken glass that seemed to guard every entrance to the path", he entered into his online travelblog. The path itself was the bicycle path he couldn't enjoy, forced rather to pedal in the streets which seemed chaotic. This student of the environment had picked up on what we live with, and what some challenge, daily: the mirror of an apathy convinced nothing will change, work out, succeed. It is difficult to believe that New Bedford once had wealth, that whaling capital, was the city that lit the world. It is still harder to believe that it's still the richest fishing port in the U.S. The well kept homes, tidy gardens, familial tenements exist, but between them are the cracks, the metaphorical slivers of glass that keep that edge of grace ragged, torn, threatening.
Statistics reveal that 60% of regional residents didn't vote in this week's election. The percentage is higher in our city. The wealthy, the "white flight" middle class, some city workers live in the 'burbs. The ctiy itself is populated with newly arrived and second/third generation Portuguese and Latino folk. The short-statured Guatemalans bicycle or walk through town, avoiding both being robbed and reporting it when it does happen. The police in their native land were not so kind; the cops and immigration agents here rounded up undocumented factory workers and shipped them back, away from their children, a few years ago. It won't be forgotten. The Portuguese around us are endowed with an alternate reality provided by their own print and broadcast media, bank, shops. The insulating blanket of food and family shelters them from need for active civic participation in the macrocosm. If they should step on a sliver of glass, it had to be placed by a "gang member" who moved here from Boston. These ethnic groups are victimized not only by those who take advantage of them, but also by their own refusal to fully live here. This city, once the city that lit the world, is darkened, shrouded in silences of vacant shops, quiet streets, sleepy social clubs and bars. Citizens retreat rather than challenge; withdraw rather than win; collapse into their own microworlds rather than cooperate in the community.
The official story is that we now move to the beat of a creative economy. Artists dribbling down here for the cheaper studio space, the anticipated wind energy construction project, the AHA! nights drawing folks to the free art/history/architecture while tempting them with spending opportunities--creative thinking on our feet to salvage identity. The director of this creative economy is an artist from Canada; so is the coordinator of the most visible, grant-garnering arts organization. Have they stayed despite the broken glass on the path? Are they, as well as the larger immigrant groups, part of the "disruption" the cyclist cited? Could the greening of the city be not only sustainable and monetary growth, but also some of those who arrive new at an oppportune time, green to the process, eager to participate, to commune, to extend the comfort zone? The Portuguese, Cape Verdeans and Latinos, mocked as greenhorns decades ago, conformed or withdrew. The 21st century, this Age of Aquarius, pours its universally blessing waters over all.
Change simulates chaos; progress mandates letting go, moving on; triumph involves stretching, adjustment, even pain. The cyclist knows this; surely the best you can do sometimes is to avoid the shards that might deflate your momentum. If this should happen, as it might, know you can rest, write, and hit send.
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