New and Old #124
Hawaii could see construction of 50,000 new homes over the next three to five years for residents of all income levels if an executive order issued Monday by Gov. Josh Green achieves its intended purpose. The order suspends a half dozen state and county laws, primarily focusing on land use, historic preservation and environmental review.
Titled “Emergency Proclamation Relating to Housing,” the measure invokes a state law giving the governor broad power to suspend laws that impede a response to emergencies such as natural disasters or the coronavirus pandemic.
I’m not sure I like this “emergency powers” thing, but this is actually the government cutting government power, not increasing it. It’s almost like a state-imposed free market experiment.
One issue Hawaii faces is that it’s not that large, and commuting between islands isn’t really possible (not that any of them are cheap.) There isn’t the outer land to exurbanize, or the possibility of supercommuting. In other words, there’s no way to conceal the fundamental problem of high housing costs and the problems downstream of it.
Citing a shortage of first responders, teachers and health care workers needed to serve the community, [Governor] Green said, “If it’s not a crisis, if it’s not an emergency, I don’t know what is.”
In some ways, this kind of thing resembles Ronald Reagan’s famous firing of the air traffic controllers. It makes for interesting political coalitions, since it preempts some local-government powers at the same time it reduces overall red tape. Like California’s broad but modest reforms of single-family zoning, this is an experiment to watch.
A Bikeshare Journey Across the DMV, Washington City Paper, Siddharth Muchhal and Bobo Stankovikj, May 2, 2023
When a friend would ask “Why in the world would you spend your weekends doing this?”—which was often, since they believed it was a dumb hobby—our answer evolved from “Wouldn’t it be crazy to say you’ve visited every bike dock?” to “We’re halfway through—can’t stop now!” to “We can’t imagine what life would look like without this.” While our goal remained the same, our motivation deepened as we visited more docks.
There’s a lot of truth in that.
Also this bit:
In our daily lives, we spend most of our time on cell phones or laptops, communicating with others via a screen. When we’d go outside, it was often to the same places—our favorite cafe, or a brunch place on Sundays—and we wouldn’t really take the time to look. But when we were biking through streets we’d never been on, we had no other choice.
In the suburbs, we got a glimpse into family life and community traditions. We biked past kids’ soccer games and cheered them on, stopped at farmers markets where we got fresh bagels, waved to churchgoers on a Sunday and tourists at the Mall, and admired a kick-ass block party. We saw a grandfather and grandson cleaning a car together, kids playing hopscotch, and elderly couples enjoying the afternoon heat. These moments always put a smile on our faces, even when we got yelled at when barely escaping some sidewalk collisions.
And this:
It seemed random to us at first, but every dock is placed deliberately; it’s there because someone needs and uses it. We were lucky to witness so many someones, and to be present—even for the seconds it takes to dock and undock a bike—in communities at cross streets across the region.
A lovely piece. Read the whole thing.
I remember this restaurant from a childhood visit:
Mars 2112 was a science-fiction themed restaurant and tourist trap in New York City. Few mourned it when it closed in 2012, one hundred years ahead of its time. It was like a Rainforest Cafe, except with aliens, craters, and a spaceflight simulation ride that dropped space travelers off at the hostess stand. Patrons dined in the three-story high Crystal Crater, decorated with neon lights and bubbling lava pools. Martians with names and backstories mingled among the tables for photo ops and conversation. Having been there just once, when I was 18 years old, I can say it was tacky. It was overpriced. It was basically a space-themed version of Applebee’s.
I think I found it weird, but neat. It wasn’t really the kind of place you go back to, so I can hardly say I miss it. But I remembered it randomly and was curious to see what happened to it; I was kind of surprised it made it to 2012. But it was fun, and this is a fun recollection piece here.
When the last flax processing mill in the U.S. closed in the 1960s — a casualty first of cotton and then synthetic textiles — the nation’s centuries-old flax farming tradition faded with it. Now, a costume designer and a vegetable farmer have teamed up to help revive this field-to-fiber supply chain.
The framing here leans heavily on environmental and sustainability concerns—flax textile, or linen, is biodegradable, and the plant is less resource-intensive than synthetic fibers or many other natural fibers—but the other story is the loss and recovery of a craft. In that sense, it’s an economic story but also a cultural one, and a human one.
Related Reading:
Thank you for reading! Please consider upgrading to a paid subscription to help support this newsletter. You’ll get a weekly subscribers-only post, plus full access to the archive: over 700 posts and growing. And you’ll help ensure more material like this!