- Remembering why I ride
- On buses and boundaries
- Art + buses + community = life (part II)
- Respect to those who came before, part V (Or, Why we need Indigenous People’s Day)
- On cars and community
- Buses are for everyone, part IV
- Multimodal Monday: Greenway riders
- Power to the people
- Art + buses + community = life
- A beautiful, brief ride
In the Bus Bag
Spiritual Ecology: The Cry of the Earth, edited by Llewellyn Vaughn-Lee
Monthly Archives: November 2010
My latest for Grist: “Driving a car doesn’t mean being in control”:
It’s during the times we are not able to drive that it becomes clear just how little “control” a car-dependent life provides. Driving a mile or more to buy a gallon of milk or a box of Band-Aids may not seem especially remarkable until your alternator dies. Or gas prices rise above $4 per gallon. Or the roads are covered in a foot of snow.
“Judges’ Selection: Green Line Rapid Transit Kansas City, Missouri
Image: Arthur Cherry
The Judges Selection Photo will be featured in the next issue of GOOD …
One of the things I appreciate about living in the city is that I’m never far from basic necessities. So, times like now (when even buses are down for the count), I can still walk to the grocery store, the pharmacy, the library, and et cetera. At least, theoretically I can.
Don’t even get me started on the hills.
- The Best Bus Ride finalists have been selected. (I’ve already completed my official judging duties, which I thoroughly enjoyed.) You can vote for the people’s choice winner here. Voting ends Saturday, 11/20.
- Undriving.org now has video profiles of local undrivers. Love. I’ve just added Merlin Rainwater and Betty Holman to my list of sheroes.
- Got ideas about how to improve transit in Seattle? SDOT wants to
In my latest Grist column, I present a different take on “green” parenting.
Most environmentally aware parents would say that we’d like to keep the planet in good shape for our kids. We’d like them to have clean air to breathe, healthy sources of food and water, and the good fortune to coexist with a variety of species of plants and animals. We’d also probably prefer …
Back when I was a young BCiT, I made my grandma mad by (unintentionally) announcing her age to a full 55. At six, I couldn’t understand why she didn’t want people to know how old she was. Even now, I find all the shame and secrecy surrounding the number of years a person has been on the planet to be somewhat difficult to understand.
Folks, I’m no spring chicken. Unlike my father, I can’t claim to predate I-5*, but I am old enough to have a (somewhat fuzzy) memory of the