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It's almost Memorial Day, and I did not want this month to slip by without giving a report on the big Design Committee to-do this past May 6. The first annual Main Street Takoma Clean Up Day should be rated a success, as well as (I believe) a good first try. About thirty volunteers came out, it was a beautiful day, a lot of trash got picked up, and a lot of flowers got planted. We concentrated on Triangle Park, at 4th Street, NW, along Laurel Avenue, and on Morrison Park at Takoma Junction. Things look good. Huge thanks and much respect go to the planners, the generous sponsors, and to the intrepid volunteers. You know who you are. Now, we keep at it.
There. That's nice. I don't want to write an angry weblog. Angry weblogs (though undoubtedly the most amusing to read) are usually written by angry, ugly little people with bad hair. Not quite my look. Except for the hair. But The Clash had it right: Anger can be Power. I've talked to a lot of the Clean Up volunteers, and they're angry. Me, too. Angry about trash. And trashy behavior.
Walk down your street, gaze at your feet. What do you see? Probably, someone's stinky cigarette butt. It's like spit, but lasts a lot longer. Now, I'm all for smokers' rights. Used to smoke, in fact. Good ol' Class AA cigs are one of the last net exports this contry has. Now that our blue jeans come from China, smokes are our last shot at world cultural domination. And, let's face it: if folks lived forever, the world would get...well...messy. Crowded. Cigarettes help prevent that. Plus, cigarette taxes are nifty. The State makes beaucoup bucks on smoking, and don't believe them if they say differently. But, come on, folks! Your right to kill yourselves doesn't include a right to drop your garbage on the sidewalk. Your butt doesn't just evaporate when you're done with it! Back when coffin nails were made of rice paper and good Carolina baccy, maybe they'd just decay, but now they make the filters out of cellulose and treat the tobacco with formaldehyde. That's the stuff they put in stiffs to keep 'em around a good long time. Your butt becomes an artifact. Show some respect, people. Put your butt where it belongs. And all the rest of your garbage.
At the Junction, we had this one highly motivated volunteer. As an experiment, along with pulling weeds and picking up the other garbage, she counted (and picked up) the cigarette butts for one block, one side of the street. Total: 452. That's FOUR HUNDRED AND FIFTY-TWO. Spread evenly on a short block with mixed retail, office, walk-in and vacant storefronts. There were 228 on the north half and 224 on the south half. Good statistics. Rotten job. Yeah, we all wore gloves.
As it was with cigarette butts, so it was with the papers, bottles, cans, cups, food wrappers and the venetian blind(?!?) that got collected. They were all things that are easy to ignore if you breeze through life AND CHOOSE TO LIVE A WRETCHED EXISTENCE. Don't do that. Live life like it matters. It does. We can work on saving the world later. Right now, how about putting the trash where it belongs? Main Street Takoma is our living room. Show some self respect. Don't litter. We all live here. Thanks.
John Hume
Design Chair
Don't let anybody tell you that an Arts & Sciences curriculum isn't valuable. While it is true that my shiny new degree didn't quite nail down my job applications for, among other things: termite exterminator, prison guard, rag salesman (Yes, somebody has to go out there to sell rags. Everything has to be sold by somebody.), it did prepare me for my eventual career path of asking people if they wanted butter on their popcorn. I could even do it in French. But, more importantly, it was in college that I was exposed to...Umwelt.
No, Umwelt is not a Scandinavian Death Metal band. Nor is it one of those Biblical diseases, like the Itch. I will illustrate Umwelt in the following riddle: To an ant, it is a vast ocean; to a sparrow, it is a drink of water; to a horse, it is a muddy footprint; what is it? Show of hands? Anybody? Does anybody read this stuff? Well, Grasshopper, the answer is: It's all three things. You see, Umwelt (German word. Rough translation: Environment. Pronounced "Oooom-Velt". Drag out that Oooo, Herr Professor.) can be defined as "subjective reality". The same situation can have completely different realities to different species, or different individuals. At different times, even. It all depends on what you're looking for. Where you're coming from. Where your head's at, man. You may not realize it, but we all wrestle with Umwelt every day. Does this belt make me look fat? Does my tie match my hair? See? I'm trying to put myself into the subjective reality of others. Trying to imagine their horror at my appearance. I'm trying to grasp their Umwelts. A lot of design is like that. You may think the manicured bushes and rolling ivy in front of your home represent traditionalism and good taste. A cop on the beat may think they're a good hiding place for suspicious activity. A rat may think it's Home Sweet Home. See? Back to traditionalism and good taste. For the rat, anyway. It's all because of that devil, Umwelt. And Umwelt really bites us in the Realm of Unintended Consequences. A shop owner might point proudly to his shelves and aisles, packed with a commercial cornucopia for his valued customers. His customer in the wheelchair, however, might only see a cruel obstacle course with blocked passageways. So, think, please. Measure twice to cut once. But, think three or four times, first. Think about the Umwelt.
A guy I used to work with took a Dale Carnegie course, to try to show Management how industrious he was. Didn't work too well. But he did teach me one of those Daleisms that really stuck with me: If you see Joe Jones through Joe Jones' eyes, then you will sell Joe Jones what Joe Jones buys (Say it aloud; it sounds better than it reads). There you have sound commercial advice about the Umwelt of Joe Jones. Whatever we make, whatever we do, whatever we sell, how does it fit into the reality of Joe Jones? And all them other Joneses out there. So, yeah, design is like that. Sure, I may know what I like. I happen to think I'm a genius at this design stuff. But, Joe Jones is ALL about design. All the Joneses are. So, it may be my design, but their Umwelts. And there's nothing but Umwelts out there, as far as the eye can see.
The key to good design, good commerce and good relations is a thorough understanding of the other guy's reality. By exercising our minds, we will build a better Main Street. Because Main Street Takoma is much more than a pretty spot on the map. Main Street Takoma is...Umwelt.
John Hume
Design Chair
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