On a recent afternoon enjoying a delightful array of shops and eateries in the Westport neighborhood, I overheard a little girl ask a question that was incredibly profound. This was lost on her dad, however, who was so programmed by the world he is used to that he didn't even consider why she would ask the question in the first place.
We were in a small loop of shops along Pennsylvania St, a street beloved by Kansas City urbanites for its intimacy and pedestrian scale. However, in the section we were standing, the shops are set back from the street to accommodate a small parking lot and a u-shaped drive. This is a lot I've always disliked. When enjoying a meal at a patio table in front of Californos, one has the charming view of a pile of cars in temporary storage. On a street that is so perfectly human scaled, this lot is a giant hole.
The girl's question?
"Daddy, why are there cars here?"
She was just strolling along, taking in all of the visuals, when she turned to the lot and stopped short. She turned her head at the array of cars, thought to herself and then asked the question.
Her dad didn't miss a beat. He didn't get it. He responded that there were cars here because people parked them there, insulting the girl with his oversimplified explanation that completely missed the point and failed to reward the girl for her insight. Little did this girl know that she knows more about this topic than daddy does. Dissatisfied with the response, you could tell the girl still felt as if she had an open, unresolved question. As her dad prodded her to continue on their walk, you could almost see her give up and then resume walking along with her dad.
When I heard it, I did the same thing. I stopped in my tracks. I've spent tons of time trying to explain why cars don't belong. I try to deal with the balance between the realities of car dependence that conflict with great urban spaces. She didn't have to deal with all of that. She didn't worry about anyone's preconceived notions. She just asked the obvious question.
The little girl hasn't had to deal with driving. Her dad's SUV with its Kansas plates reveal that her reality is the suburbs. To her, this actual neighborhood must feel like a park, with cars being out of place when compared to the sprawling parking lots of suburbia. Her experience of all of the stimuli of a dense, leafy urban street was affronted by these cars. It didn't feel right in her clever little brain.
If only it didn't feel right for everyone else. I'm convinced it doesn't feel quite right, but adults don't know anything else. We're used to it. It is normal. We don't ask for more and we don't really have relationships with our built environments anymore.
I had to resist the urge to answer that question for the girl... or, better yet, sit down and ask her what she meant by the question. We could learn a lot from her. Sadly, by the time people are articulate enough to communicate the feelings that their environment elicits from them. By that time, they are numb.
Hopefully this is changing. If only everyone was as smart as that little girl. I hope she keeps on asking "stupid" and "absurd" questions like that one and the rest of us follow her lead. As part of his response, daddy said "I parked here," which solidified his lack of perspective, as if the correct question would be "why are there not cars here?" I mean, what a killer parking spot! Front row!
Front row parking for a place that is destroyed by front row parking, but it sure is great to find a spot!
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4 comments:
Great story!
Good exposition Staub. Most amusing is that the little girl was starkly aware of the blight of that vast parking lagoon that blotches the heart of Westport like a festering boil on it's proverbial forehead, but the father, much like the veritable ostrich burying his head in the sand, was only to think within the nincompooperous confines of a car-centric culture. In that mindset, parking lots are a good thing, and we can see this played out in suburban wastelands like Johnson County, of which this duo is probably all-too familiar with.
Ahhh…. An amusing story very eloquently expressed… but most certainly adapted to a very specific perspective. How do you know she wasn’t thinking “if there weren’t cars here, there could be a big Toys R Us”…
I won’t address the extremely specific attitude expressed toward the car culture, because I don’t think its that simple. What I will say is I think the story above is just that, a nice story.
Having kids, I am amazed every day by their insight, untainted by the years of exposure to this world. I often catch myself, not unlike the father in the story, rattling off a lame response to a potentially insightful and sometimes difficult to answer question from my inquisitive children. Yes it happens. But your story, Staubio, although adapted well to justify your mission, shows naivety regarding both cause and effect of such a circumstance, and children in general.
Almost all children, regardless of sex, race, money, religion, etc., all dream of similar things when young: happiness, playing, toys, birthdays, Christmas, school, and family. Not societal extremisms. If they have been able to experience life to the degree you have, and thus been able to form precise and mature opinions by the age of this girl, then maybe when they’ve become a teenager, they could run for office, or be a CEO somewhere. Point is, children are generally smart and intuitive, but lack global experiences and skills to derive a perspective similar to what you offered in your story. Who really knows what she was thinking? Maybe she was somewhat dis-oriented, thinking she was on a different part of the street, and wondered “why are these cars here?” This is the effect… But what about the cause?
Yes, we are all products of our experiences and circumstances, as this little girl surely is. There seems to be many assumptions in this story that conflict with your mission, as you express it to be the logical way things should be… What if they lived in another city, and were visiting? What if he was distracted because he was lost, and just quickly answered his daughter so that he could concentrate? There almost seems to be blame assigned, in your story, to the father, for being so thick headed and conditioned by suburban living. Isn’t this the conservative thought process you so strongly abhor? Being a father myself, there are these moments, true. But the reality of it is: he was obviously going somewhere with a very inquisitive daughter in tow, most likely in a hurry. Your opinions were formed as you had no other responsibility other than to yourself, and you could sit idly by watching other people, deep in intrinsic thought, contemplating life’s ineptitudes. The Cause: DISTRACTIONS.
Today’s evils are not parking lots where there should be grass, or 1/3 acre lots with a 2800 SF home on them. It’s the distractions around us. The fact is, you claim your castle is the bar down the street, or the park around the corner, which is great for someone who has no responsibilities other than themselves. Add another adult, and two kids, and all of a sudden its an expedition to go downtown. Let alone you wouldn’t even take your kids to many of those same places. Got the diapers? Wipes? Tylenol? Ball? Glove? Kite? Where are we going to eat? I want Chinese, they want Taco Bell. I gotta go potty! So the obvious answer is… home. Home is our castle.
Suburbia is most likely where you and most of your readers grew up. It’s the place of fond memories of playing in the driveway, freshly mowed grass, neighborhood barbecues, pool parties, planting a garden, and doing whatever you darn well please because you own it. I would rather have my kids play where I can see them in my back yard on the grass with my neighbors kids, than 3 blocks away at a park, mostly concrete, dodging the occasional homeless person or predator, hanging out with kids that I wouldn’t like around mine. As parents, your perspective changes drastically. You want to provide for, and protect your family as best you can. You want to offer them convenience, fun, and safety, at an affordable price.
I didn’t invent Suburbia, that was a Dark Ages invention. However, I did choose to raise my kids where they have better odds of growing up where I could control the influences of the crowded city distractions; namely bad people, who for some reason are more apt to live in the more densely populated areas. There are other things like infrastructure: hospitals, schools, churches -that are often lacking in more urban areas because there was very little forethought in city planning when they were formed.
Culture? Certainly you agree there are other places than downtown to be exposed to culture? My church alone has many people from Asia and Africa, as well as all types and walks of life represented. Potluck after church offers an extensive cornucopia of experiences, lifestyles, belief systems, and attitudes – vastly different than you would encounter in the bar scene on Westport where most everyone is either single and hunting, on a mission to get drunk, or just bored with life. I also belong to a school board for networking, interact with many local company executives, and share in the excitement of my city’s (Lenexa) expansion and infrastructure improvement. For every positive you provide for urban living, I can provide an equally opposite reason to not live there, just as you argue the absurdities of suburban life. But I figure, I’ll just give you some time, and you will soon tire of all the distractions in life, and long for a quiet, safe, and peaceful suburban lifestyle too. Meanwhile, live it up, be busy, late nights and new people! It’s an idealist’s party life when you are young.
suburban is obviously a mom and probably drives one. Plus, they rant for the sake of hearing themselves speak. After all, you have what, 3 readers, right? Anyway, suburban isn't cool, wishes she could get away from the kids in the suburbs to go downtown, and worst of all doesn't realize the number one rule of writing: Know your audience. Matthew knows who he is writing for...suburban, you do not fit within the framer's intent, e.g. your opinion matter very little here.
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