Walking Out of the Box

by Besty Harvey, MCRP '12
I was lucky growing up. My family lived in the center of a small town, so most of our amenities were within walking distance, including the middle school and high school. If we cut through the woodland behind our house it was a fifteen minute walk; twenty, if we walked on the road.

We lived right outside the one-mile cutoff for children who were allowed to be bussed, but walking was faster. I could leave at 7:20 and get to school on time. But the bus stopped at the end of our street at 7:00. That was an unconscionable trade-off. At the end of the day, walkers were dismissed first, so if I walked quickly I could get home before some of my bus-riding classmates even left school.

“Your mom and I worried about you kids,” my dad told me years later, after I had graduated from college.

Especially me. I was the only girl.

Sometimes I walked with one of my three brothers. But our varying ages and diverse after-school activities meant that I often walked alone, particularly in high school. Track and cross-country practices could end after six, which meant in the winter I would walk home in the dark.

I never felt afraid. Many other families’ children walked to school, and a few even biked. Until they were allowed to drive, every one of the fourteen children on our street walked to school most of the time. The exception was bad weather. The spring rains that drenched New Hampshire led my brothers and I to beg our dad to drop us off at school on his way to work.

But we never asked out of fear. Of the dark, of strangers, of being abducted, of getting lost. Our parents hid theirs so that we wouldn’t have any. They wanted us to have a childhood. They wanted us to discover for ourselves how to navigate in the world, to discover the beauty and the horrors, and to make mistakes. They didn’t allow us to live in a safe box where they could monitor our every movement. We couldn’t learn that way, we couldn’t grow up to be healthy, aware adults. For a box has no roads to travel, and no way to understand why you might want to walk down one in the first place.

Appreciating an Underdog

by Betsy Harvey, MCRP '12


I for one am glad to not be taking Rutgers buses to and from class and work anymore. Last year, in the winter or the pouring rain, when I couldn’t muster the courage to bike, I boarded the bus from my stop on Douglass Campus. The digital displays saying when the next bus would arrive could be between 5 and 15 minutes from what the Rutgers website said, a real problem when class started in 20 minutes. People threw up on the bus on weekend nights. And I quickly learned that using the bus between 4:00 pm and 7:00 pm would mean that the ride would take twice as long. There were times when it would have been quicker for me to walk home. The supposed convenience factor was clearly lacking.

Buses get a bad rap. As the Rutgers bus system often proves, they get you where you want to go, but not necessarily when they say they will or when you need to be there, and certainly not in style. I avoid them if I can afford to. And yet they are vital to many people’s ability to get to work or to the store or to visit friends. For those who cannot afford a car - or who choose not to have one - buses provide essential mobility. As I wrote in an earlier post, mobility is vital to a health economy. It is well worth the investment.

So while I am pleased to be able to walk the ten minutes to school this year instead of taking a half-hour to wait for and ride the bus, I won’t underestimate the importance of affordable bus service. Without it, there would be a serious drain on our already ailing economy and set struggling families back further.

Reclaim Your City... One Parking Space at a Time

by Marley Bice, MCRP '12

Park(ing) Day is Friday September 16th year. What started with a 2-hour demonstration in San Francisco in 2005 has grown into an International movement with 850 parks in 30 countries in 2010. The idea is to take over a metered parking space for a day and turn it into a public park showing how much change can come out of a small area of land and also demonstrate that our streets and parking spaces can be redesigned to be more efficient, safe and green.

Although this doesn't immediately scream "green stormwater management" since we are not proposing to rip out the concrete and asphalt, we are making a statement about the way people interact in public spaces and streets and how green elements can make those interactions and spaces safer and more enjoyable. In my opinion, stormwater management starts with creating a connection to public open space and realizing that decreaseing impervious area creates more opportunities for communities to use excess space for beneficial uses. What is the point of putting a stormwater street tree trench or a rain garden where no one is going to see it?

Some cities are starting to recognize the community development and environmental benefits of parklets, often citing the stormwater benefits with the power of the community force behind this movement for safer streets and more public open space. Collaborating with local artists and architects also makes these parklets icons of public art and can help revitalize a neighborhood. Check out these examples:

Philadelphia's First Parklet: http://planphilly.com/philly-first-university-city-gets-parklet
San Francisoco's Pavement to Parks Program: http://sfpavementtoparks.sfplanning.org/index.htm

This year, Bloustein students led by RAPPS and Walk Bloustein/Bike Bloustein are creating a parklet in New Brunswick. To get involved in this world-wide urban revitalization movement, come to an interest meeting in the Bloustein Student Lounge Wednesday September 7th at 4 pm.

An Impromptu Public Space

by Betsy Harvey, MCRP '12

Welcome back Bloustein! For those of you who are reading this blog for the first time, I write regular Friday posts about anything and everything related to streets. As a transportation planner, I am interested in their use beyond just shuttling cars back and forth. Streets play important social and economic roles as well, and they are powerful symbols both in our imaginations and in history.

Like most of New Jersey, New Brunswick does not want for a lack of roads. However, when something like a hurricane puts many of them out of service, it may seem like we could do with more. The day or two following Hurricane Irene last weekend, Route 18 was closed from flooding, so drivers diverted to George Street/Ryders Lane, clogging it beyond its normal capacity. A half-hour drive between Princeton and New Brunswick became two hours.

However, something interesting happened on Route 18. On Sunday, as the Raritan River crested over the highway across from the Hyatt Hotel, it was turned into something of a public space. People, for once, had real access to the river. A man (though rather foolishly) waded out a few dozen yards to go fishing. People biked up and down the road. A young man brought out his boom box, playing easy jazz. Groups of friends wandered around, hanging out and talking as they took pictures of the phenomenon, knowing this would most likely never again happen. Irene exacted terrible economic and human costs, to be sure. But the experience on Route 18 shows how much people crave public spaces where they can socialize outdoors, and will take advantage of even a flooded highway.



Route 18 in New Brunswick after last Sunday's Hurricane Irene (Photos by the author)