Funny how a financial crisis makes you nostalgic. The more I tell people about The Goods and my sincere quest to engage the public in arts and culture, fitness, the environment and the local food economy, the more I hear (and feel) an aching for "the way things used to be."
Through my work with the Indianapolis Cultural Trail, we're promoting a lifestyle that challenges you to see how many days you can leave your car at home and walk, bike, roller-blade or Segway to ...where-ever you may be going. It's estimated that forty percent (40%) of all U.S. urban travel is two miles or less. For example, it's only about 1.7 miles from the Chase Tower on Monument Circle downtown Indianapolis to the fountain in Fountain Square.
In "the good ol' days," our cities and neighborhoods were designed so that you could walk to work or the grocery store or to church. Over the last 30 years (or more), many cities, including Indianapolis, have removed sidewalks from their budgets to make more room for car-centric roads and their pot-holed maintenance. Now, fuel prices are forcing us to consider these other "good ol'" options.
In "the good ol' days," before modern television, video games, and movies, we spent more time with our families in the kitchen learning grandma's spaghetti sauce recipe made from tomatoes and basil fresh from her garden (or maybe how to make the best cake, like mine proudly displayed by my mother in the photo). Now, global warming and the increasingly toxic environment are forcing us to consider these "good ol'" ways of buying, growing and preparing food locally.
In "the good ol' days," we spent time learning to play to the piano, the trumpet, or maybe guitar as a child and endured our uncle singing his favorite Irish tune tune or accompanied mom's tentative yet beautiful voice singing the latest Broadway ballad. Now, there's little time for music and the arts between soccer, basketball, football, homework, birthday parties, video games, movies and tv. Worse yet, our schools and cities are cutting funding for arts, making me and most performing arts organizations wonder: where will our future audience come from?
When did "the good ol' days" become "ol'?" When did this become "renaissance" to the point of seeming upper-class, snobbish and expensive?
I don't know about you, but I long for the good ol' days. Or maybe I'm just ol' fashioned.
Through my work with the Indianapolis Cultural Trail, we're promoting a lifestyle that challenges you to see how many days you can leave your car at home and walk, bike, roller-blade or Segway to ...where-ever you may be going. It's estimated that forty percent (40%) of all U.S. urban travel is two miles or less. For example, it's only about 1.7 miles from the Chase Tower on Monument Circle downtown Indianapolis to the fountain in Fountain Square.
In "the good ol' days," our cities and neighborhoods were designed so that you could walk to work or the grocery store or to church. Over the last 30 years (or more), many cities, including Indianapolis, have removed sidewalks from their budgets to make more room for car-centric roads and their pot-holed maintenance. Now, fuel prices are forcing us to consider these other "good ol'" options.
In "the good ol' days," before modern television, video games, and movies, we spent more time with our families in the kitchen learning grandma's spaghetti sauce recipe made from tomatoes and basil fresh from her garden (or maybe how to make the best cake, like mine proudly displayed by my mother in the photo). Now, global warming and the increasingly toxic environment are forcing us to consider these "good ol'" ways of buying, growing and preparing food locally.
In "the good ol' days," we spent time learning to play to the piano, the trumpet, or maybe guitar as a child and endured our uncle singing his favorite Irish tune tune or accompanied mom's tentative yet beautiful voice singing the latest Broadway ballad. Now, there's little time for music and the arts between soccer, basketball, football, homework, birthday parties, video games, movies and tv. Worse yet, our schools and cities are cutting funding for arts, making me and most performing arts organizations wonder: where will our future audience come from?
When did "the good ol' days" become "ol'?" When did this become "renaissance" to the point of seeming upper-class, snobbish and expensive?
I don't know about you, but I long for the good ol' days. Or maybe I'm just ol' fashioned.
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