Watching the world go by

 

Obviously a picture from a previous year with colder temperatures

My neighbors and I in Fort Worth’s Berkeley neighborhood were virtually housebound this weekend with a double whammy of events which closed our streets. Saturday was sunny and beautiful, with temperatures in the high seventies or low eighties. I think half the families in Tarrant County decided it was a great day to visit the world-class Fort Worth Zoo, which is on the edge of our neighborhood. Traffic on my street, Park Place Avenue, was backed up for four blocks—we do have the world’s longest red light at the corner before the road descends to the zoo. And by afternoon, cars were parked for blocks along many of our streets. This routinely happens over Spring Break, especially at half-price day at the zoo, and the Fort Worth Police do a good job of planning their strategy and keeping traffic moving as best they can. But who expects zoo weather in late February? Another sign of climate change, and one we should all take seriously. The traffic is not just an annoyance for those of us in the neighborhood: it’s a real problem if emergency vehicles such as an ambulance or fire truck are needed. Christian wanted to go to the store and could go out by going the opposite direction from the zoo, but he was afraid he could never get back home.

I was proud of my neighbors though—several posted on the neighborhood Buzz how good it was to see happy families enjoying the zoo and the fine weather. Said one, “It’s a happy day in the neighborhood,” with a hat tip to Mr. Rogers. There have been suggestions about a parking garage, which I don't think would fit the neighborhood ambiance at all, and a few other remedies, but the general mood is that we're happy to have the zoo and have people enjoy it. The only thing niggling in my mind is the off chance of the need of an emergency vehicle.

Today one of Fort Worth’s major events hit our neighborhood: the Cowtown Marathon, which attracts almost thirty thousand runners for the marathon and associated races—half marathon, ultramarathon, 10K, children’s races. The regular marathon goes right through Berkeley and then down one of our main access roads. The halfway point for the full marathon is approximately in front of our house, so we get to watch the runners go by. When I was in the main house, I used to sit on the porch and, silently to myself, assess the style and form of each runner. Now, from the cottage, I can only see them at a distance, if I peer down the driveway and through the iron gate.

Back when the marathon began in 1978 my then-husband was one of the founders, and I was on the publicity committee. The group from what was then the Texas College of Osteopathic Medicine met in my living room for months, talking about health and fitness and planning the marathon. I laughed each Sunday, because after the meeting, another girl and I served them fantastically rich desserts—and that ate every bite. Come race day, I woke my four children, ranging from nine to three, at five in the morning, and we headed for the Stockyards District where the race then began and ended. And I abandoned the children so I could help with whatever needed to be done (I remember a TV station had a van on site, and I periodically updated them). I can’t believe now that I turned the children loose, but I did. They reported in when they were hungry, but otherwise they joined other “race orphans” and roamed the area. They uniformly recall it as one of the really fun times of their childhood. This went on for two or three years until my husband and I divorced. But like my children I have mostly fond memories of the marathon, so race day is always a bit nostalgic for me.

The night before that first race, we were sitting in our home office when we heard it—and my husband said, “Sleet! I didn’t want sleet!” Actually he didn’t say it that politely. Next morning the streets were ice-covered. Unfortunately I don’t remember the temperature, but today it is sunny and clear and 80 at one o’clock—far too hot for marathoners. By now, as I write, all but the stragglers have made it to the finish line. It’s five hours after the start. And the zoo traffic is less, but it will pick up again when the zoo closes.

The weekend events are but another reasons I’m glad to live in Berkeley.

All roads lead to … the zoo

Zoo traffic on Park Place
This is a good eight blocks or more from the zoo entrance.
Photo courtesy Amy Allibon.

Those of us who have lived in Fort Worth’s Berkeley neighborhood for a year or more (in two separate stretches, I’ve been here thirty-two years) know to hunker down on the Wednesday during spring break. That’s half-price day at the Fort Worth Zoo, and the neighborhood becomes, well … a zoo. Today, we saw the worst traffic congestion we have ever seen.

All roads in and out of Berkeley—Forest Park, 8^th Avenue, etc.—were backed up as were side streets within the neighborhood. We were beleaguered, unable to leave our homes. The worst was that first responders would have been unable to reach us in case of medical emergency or fire. And some frustrated drivers became careless—I heard several reports of people driving on the wrong side of the street to circumvent long waiting lines. I know there was a steady, slow procession of cars on my street—the thoroughfare that leads directly to the zoo. I wondered how much fun the zoo would be if you had to sit in your car for a couple of hours to get there, and then half the city was shouldering in front of you for a glimpse of the lions—or a turn at the Port-a-Potty.

Balancing those who worried about danger were those who thought it was wonderful to see so many people enjoying our great zoo and to think of families having this outing together, many of whom might not have been able to afford full price. When some people said “Just wait and pay full price,” one neighbor pointed out rightly this was an equity day—a chance for some to enjoy a privilege most of us take for granted. In my memory, zoo admission was free. Today it is $16 for adults and $12 for children, with a higher discount for toddlers.

Complaints flew on our neighborhood listserv, and everybody had a suggestion which ranged from it’s no big deal to who should have planned this. Our Berkeley Place Association president, Amy Allibon, got a lot of undeserved flack. She met with a police officer newly assigned to traffic control at such events. He assured her, “We got this” and, she implies, was a bit misogynistic in his attitude. She surmises he learned a lesson today.

Several good suggestions came out of today’s pandemonium, and I’m sure they will be addressed in coming days as we—and we hope the city and the zoo—plan ahead for summer half-price days and the dreaded spring break day in  2023. It did make an interesting day in which I got little done except reading emails.

A bit of history: The zoo opened in 1909 with one lion, two bear cubs, an alligator, a coyote, a peacock, and a few rabbits. The zoo now is home to 7,000 native and exotic animals, representing 542 species, and covers 64 acres. Active in worldwide conservation and education programs, the Fort Worth Zoo also offers classes and events members of the association and local children.

I’m all for supporting the zoo and encouraging everyone in Fort Worth to visit it. Time was when my kids, grandkids, and I made an annual all-day trip. We could walk from my house, and it was a highlight of the year for us. The grandkids, now all at least in their teens, are too busy these days, and I can’t do the required walking, so that’s another memory to treasure. I want to share that memory with other families, and I want them to have the joy of a day at the zoo. But I also want to feel safe in my neighborhood and able to go about my day without being blocked by traffic. I’m sure there’s an equitable solution, but it will take neighborhood association, zoo officials, and police working together.

A day with high points and some low ones

I’m really glad and grateful that several of you said wonderful things about my post last night and my evening back in the literary world of Texas. I needed that affirmation because today someone on Facebook told me that I am surely the most ignorant of the ignorant. It had to do with a thread about Beto O’Rourke. At this point I am not promising to support Beto but neither will I criticize him—I’m waiting to see how this overcrowded field shakes out. But I contributed what I thought was a reasonable statement on the fact that he waves his arms and jumps around a lot when addressing a crowd—d.trump also waves his arms a lot. It doesn’t say a lot about either man’s ability to run our country. But, oh boy, was I jumped on. A blazing example of the ugly divisiveness that has engulfed our country, and it makes me feel sad. Two Facebookers, one I know and one I don’t, came to my defense and I appreciate it. I know I have a lot of flaws—ignorance is not one of them.

The highlight of my day was the arrival of Colin and his family for lunch. I had been uncertain if they’d stop on their way home from skiing, but first I heard they would stop for a quick visit. Then came the question: did I want them to bring Railhead for lunch? Of course I did. We had a good visit, and I was reluctant to see them go. And the barbecue was great—I’d been wanting it.

The rest of my day was not so glorious. I went the zoo road to pick up groceries—it was the middle of the day, and I figured zoo people were all in there visiting the animals. I would not get stuck in either arriving or departing traffic—and I didn’t. It’s those one or two drivers who think they can game the system. Zoo or park officials have parking carefully controlled and well managed, but there’s always that person who thinks he or she can evade the rules….and so drives five miles an hour looking for opportunity. How do you tell these people they’d have more time at the zoo if they’d just park in the designated spots and walk there? My frustration level was not great, though I had a lovely conversation with the Central Market employee who brought my groceries—we had North Carolina memories and farm fresh eggs in common.

I went my way, picked up my eggs, and came home—it’s no easy task to get two bags of groceries in while using a walker, but I did it and thought I’d just check email before a well-deserved nap. Someone in the neighborhood had sent me pictures for the newsletter, but every time I tried to copy them my computer crashed and getting it rebooted was touch and go, a long, slow process—I was actually proud of myself that I worked through it. I finally erased the email pictures and suggested she send them straight to the designer.

Then I napped but couldn’t sleep. Just not my day.

Tonight, Jordan and her boys came home from two days at a neighbor’s lake house, only to find the carbon monoxide detector going off. The firemen came, said the detector was probably old, get a new one and call them if the new one went off. They also told them all kinds of symptoms to watch for. So Christian and Jacob set off to get a new detector, and I’ve heard no more. I presume they’re okay.

Just that kind of day. We all have them.