Now, Progress Has Sprawled On Me

Wal-Mart, he said, was bombing American towns.

From the other side of the front seat, I gave my traveling companion a dubious glance but he would not be dissuaded. It was almost, said Michael angrily, as if the retailer’s generals had sat in a war room with maps of thriving little municipalities and dropped new Wal-Marts down upon them like bombs.

Boom! There goes another charming business district turned into a charmless temple of commerce.

Boom! Another downtown sapped of opportunity, vitality and growth.

Boom! Another mom ‘n’ pop store blasted into oblivion by its inability to compete.

Michael was moved to these furious declamations - Jesse Jackson should sermonize so righteously - every time we passed a Wal-Mart. We were on a road trip through the South, and, as anyone who’s driven that territory can attest, that works out to about once every 15 minutes. Far from being bored, though, I was fascinated by his passion. Sometimes, when there was nothing good on the radio, I’d even nudge Michael out of his slumber. “Look, we’re passing another Wal-Mart!” I’d say, and sure enough, he’d snort fire and bellow thunder all over again. It was a great show. Which doesn’t mean that I heeded the substance of his complaint. To the contrary, I ignored him much as I did the occasional newspaper columnist crusading against overdevelopment and urban sprawl.

It’s a sin for which I am here to repent.

For I have seen the error of my ways! I have understood how wrong I was! I have learned that they’re building a regional mall less than half a mile from my front door!

Let’s hear it for the miracle of self-interest.

When we moved into our present home, my wife and I rejoiced at having found a quiet corner of a quiet place in which to live our lives - you got it - quietly. When we needed the things the city had to offer, well, downtown was only half an hour away. Notwithstanding that, we also had two malls, three grocery stores, four moviehouses, a pair of McDonald’ses, a Blockbuster and a book store all within 15 minutes of home.

More important, though, we still had country lanes, canopies of trees and a certain silence. Then came the bulldozers. Trees went down, townhouses went up, roads went in. A phalanx of superstores appeared where a wooded area had been. Now comes the mall. And not just any mall, mind you, but an expletive-deleted regional mall - one o’ them big suckers.

I’m thinking about moving, but my kids have already been dislocated too many times. Besides, where can you go that bulldozers won’t follow?

Not that it would’ve made a difference, but I find myself wishing I had listened more closely to Michael’s tirades.

My friend, who is a native of the South, bemoaned the way developers and marketers were changing the piquant character of the region, slowly turning it into Anyplace, U.S.A. He was right, but it’s not just the South. I’ve driven most of the contiguous United States and sometimes, when you come up over a rise and spot that familiar shantytown of McDonald’s, Pizza Hut, Sears and 7-Eleven, it’s hard to remember where in the country you are. More and more, our regional flavors stir into a bland and indistinguishable goo.

Problem is, as problems go, this one is less sexy than abstract, less urgent than simply abiding. Same goes for the glut of urbanization from which it springs. These are issues of zoning, overdevelopment and other deadening words wholly unlikely to strike sparks in the hearts of most people.

So concrete creeps upon us like uncontested cancer, schools get more crowded, roads more congested, trees more scarce, quality of life is stolen from us inch by bulldozed inch and we don’t question or even notice until it’s too late, don’t recognize self-interest though it’s staring us in the face.

Indeed, though I fume and rail at what they’re doing to my community, I must also acknowledge a troubling truth:

If it were your neighborhood, I’d probably call it progress.

xxxx