Kristin Hoskin had been on my list for these tributes, but I thought it wise to let the dust settle after the Christchurch terrorist attack before saluting her in Gratitude on Parade. Most certainly, however, her gracious reaction to my blog post about the incident two weeks ago confirmed the very reason for including her here. She reaffirmed the New Zealand commitment to human decency.
I met Kristin in late 2007 after speaking on a panel in Reno, Nevada, at a conference of the International Association of Emergency Managers. Her question was whether I might entertain an invitation to New Zealand as a Visiting Fellow of the Centre for Advanced Engineering in New Zealand (CAENZ) at the University of Canterbury in Christchurch. Over subsequent months, arrangements were worked out between CAENZ and the American Planning Association, and my three-week absence in July and August 2008 was approved by Paul Farmer, APA’s CEO at the time. The reason for choosing me for this annual honor was my expertise in land use related to natural hazards. CAENZ wanted to inject that element into the national debate in New Zealand on natural hazards policy making.
Kristin
was assigned to escort me around the country as I conducted seven workshops and
seminars in both North and South Island cities, ending with a few days in
Christchurch crafting a white paper before I returned home. She was a gracious
host, and from her I learned a great deal about her country even as I shared
detailed knowledge with New Zealand planners, emergency managers, and others
about how we address those issues in the considerably more complex U.S.
For me, it was a wonderfully educational exchange of insights and information that I will never forget. It was what mutual learning should be. I would happily return to New Zealand, but life has included more than a few other adventures in the meantime. And I was at least able to include what I learned–and more–in the long article I published in January in the hOxford Research Encyclopedia of Natural Hazard Science, on “Planning Systems for Natural Hazard Risk Reduction.”
Kristin
Hoskin, this tribute is for you. Bask and enjoy.
Photo taken during our fun visit to the Stansborough wool factory north of Wellington, which manufactured costumes for the Lord of the Rings movies.
Two weeks ago, I spun a narrative about hazard mitigation in
Hillsborough County, Florida, based on both prior knowledge and a personal tour
conducted by long-time colleague Eugene Henry. Today, a full month or more after
that visit, I add notes about touring the Sarasota area with my personal friend
and high school classmate, David Taylor.
David is a Vietnam veteran and professional photographer who was part of
the Brecksville (Ohio) High School class of 1968. Yes, we graduated in the middle
of it all in the late 1960s.
Unlike me, David was drafted into the army. I maintained a
student deferment initially, then went untouched by the draft lottery, which
reached 125 the year I surrendered my deferment. Numbers were based on the
number pulled for your birth date. Mine was 135. Such was the luck of the draw
in those days. In less than two months on the ground in Vietnam, David was
badly injured in a mortar explosion, evacuated to a hospital and sent home. His
injuries were more than severe enough to terminate his service. He spent months
in rehab. When it became clear that cold weather aggravated his disabilities,
he moved to Florida. He has lived there ever since. He and his wife, Linda, now
live in a small home in a subdivision near the water in Sarasota.
His long tenure in Florida has allowed him ample time to
learn the sights and sounds of his adopted home. One thing my wife and I
learned from staying with him for five days is that Dave is relentlessly
curious. He attended and videotaped my February 22 lecture for Florida Atlantic University in West Palm Beach, then
loaded the 37-gb high-res recording on a flash drive. Download it to your
laptop when you get back, then reload the flash drive with as many documents
and photos about your work as will fit on it, he told me.
I don’t think Dave completely understood. I could give him
nearly everything I have and never fill up a drive of that size. But Dave lives
in the film world, and all the reports I have downloaded as PDFs and all the
still photos I have ever taken will never equal more than a fraction of that memory.
I gave him all I could.
More importantly, however, Dave took us on some tours to take
maximum advantage of the two days we had remaining after returning from West Palm
Beach (a 3 ½-hour drive across the southern interior of Florida). From an environmental
standpoint, it is important to know that Florida is a more diverse state than
outsiders may realize and that, due to rapid urbanization in the past few
decades, it also faces environmental challenges and threats of significant
proportions. The state has been wrestling with many of these for a long time.
The fate of the Everglades triggered one of the most notable environmental
policy battles in American history, but there are many smaller issues as well,
many engendering serious public health concerns as well.
One to which Dave took us, new to me, was the American
Beryllium site on Tallevast Road in Sarasota. Now abandoned, the site
hosted a manufacturing facility for machine parts of the Loral Corporation, parent
company of American Beryllium, for more than 30 years until 1996. The
operations created beryllium dust that contaminated the soil and groundwater. Lockheed Martin acquired
the plant in 1996 and closed it down. Subsequent investigations discovered the
contamination and documented the need for cleanup of what was then a brownfield
site. By 2008, the Agency for Toxic
Substances and Disease Registry (ATSDR) of the U.S. Department of Health and
Human Services completed its
own assessment of the health risks, concluding that, while there was a wide
margin of possibilities given the combination of contaminants including trichloroethylene
in the beryllium-containing metals on the site, there was a definite public
health hazard. Previous use of groundwater by local residents and employees,
which by then had ceased, posed a credible risk of kidney cancer, liver cancer,
leukemia, and lymphoma. By 2004, all nearby residents had been using municipal
water, but the long-term legacy could not be ignored.
Fence provides no real security for American Beryllium site.
The site today is mostly an empty lot next to a golf course. There is a fence around it that, frankly, is not well maintained, but how much danger the site poses at this point, I do not know. The empty lot looks rather forlorn, yet the area around it contains a fair amount of operative commerce. When, if ever, the site will be ready for reuse remains to be seen. Mostly, it is a sobering reminder of our past use and misuse of such toxic materials in manufacturing processes and the problems they often leave behind. Beryllium is a divalent element, a strong metal with high thermal stability that is useful in aerospace applications, certainly of interest to a firm like Lockheed Martin. But often in the past, manufacturing firms took inadequate measures to prevent the sort of pollution that materialized on this site. The result is a long-standing eyesore for Sarasota.
But there were other things to see in the area, like Myakka River State Park, which features a wildlife preserve that is worth visiting and attracts many visitors. Park officials are often available to explain the wildlife you are seeing, such as snowy egrets, cypress trees, vultures, and, of course, alligators. The vultures seemed exceptionally calm and contented, so Dave and I concluded that they had already had their fill for the day.
Vultures line the shore of the river.
Unable to stop myself—we have a growing collection of
souvenir mugs in our cupboards—I bought a reasonably priced mug from the gift
shop with the state park logo embedded in the ceramic. Our children one day,
when we are no longer breathing, may wonder “Myakka what?” and pass it on to the
nearest Salvation Army store, but we will enjoy it for the next 20 years, or until
one of us accidentally drops it on the floor (whichever comes first). Who knows
when we will be back?
David has vivid memories of his Vietnam experiences, and to
some extent, like most Purple Heart veterans, of the trauma involved in his
experience. This remains no small part of his semi-retired life, in which he is
also enrolled in film and history classes at nearby State College of Florida, and continues part-time
photographic work. So, he took us to the Sarasota National Cemetery,
where veterans may choose to be buried, and where he has attended and
participated in numerous ceremonies. Kiosks exhibit photos documenting the
veteran experience as far back as World War I but as recent as Afghanistan. The
growing Florida population including the elderly means a growing number of
veterans for whom the cemetery may be a final resting place. It is always a
sobering encounter with reality to visit such a place—to realize how many lives
are affected, for good or ill, by the nation’s struggles throughout our history.
One does not have to agree with a particular war, and I have certainly
disagreed with some, to recognize the magnitude of the sacrifice of those in uniform
and the respect they deserve. Just gazing out at a wide field of gravesites
should be enough to convey the message. War is no trifling thing. We invariably
owe our veterans a serious explanation when we send them into battle.
On that Saturday evening, however, it was time for fun, and Dave and Linda took us to a comedy club, McCurdy’s Comedy Theater and Humor Institute, which was great fun, and on the way back to their home, we stopped at the “Kissing Sailor” statue, developed from an iconic photo of a sailor embracing his beloved on the streets of Manhattan as the official surrender of Japan and the end of World War II were announced. Each couple shot photos of the other standing beneath this unique feature of the urban landscape in Sarasota.
Dave and Linda beneath the Kissing Sailor.
The next morning, with our free time waning before driving
to the Tampa International Airport, we
all made one last stop, at the Ken Thompson Park.
What would Florida be without its beaches? Ken Thompson, the namesake of the
park, was a long-time city manager in Sarasota. More importantly, the beach, like
the rest of southern Florida, was 84° F. and sunny, with plenty of people resting
on the sand and taking in the scenery of the Gulf Coast. Not far away are
opportunities to follow a boardwalk through a small forest. It is small wonder
in such a setting that Florida might beckon to anyone used to northern weather
in the winter, but duty called, and Chicago is very nice once spring arrives.
In fact, I took so long to write this story that it is here. Tomorrow I plan to take time to ride my bicycle on the 606 Trail, whose story I told in this blog when it opened nearly four years ago. Snow? It happens, but it’s over for now, just a fading memory.
I got off track with these tributes in large part because of the amount of planning work I was doing including work with or for APA, including the APA Division – Hazard Mitigation/Disaster Recovery Planning Division.
One person who would have approved is someone who passed away on
February 22, which unfortunately means I did not write this soon enough for him
to enjoy his own tribute. I learned of Frank So’s untimely death just recently. I was able to obtain a photo from APA just today.
Frank
spent many years as either the deputy director or the executive director of the
American Planning Association before retiring in 2001, in large part because of
his wife’s declining health at that time. Frank was the kind of person who put
first things first, and his wife came first.
Frank also put people first in his career. I had numerous
conversations with him during my time at APA. In one of those, he was
questioning another organization’s move to another city and asked, “Do
they really think their assets are in the physical facilities instead of their
people?” Frank was always encouraging the best in the people who worked
for him and knew that the only real asset APA had was its staff.
My most memorable conversation involved a turning point in my career. I was curious about the process by which he was choosing a new research director, but I was at that point in the Publications Department. As we talked, he must have sensed something in my questions; he was brilliant at that. “Are you thinking about leaving?” he asked. Stunned, I confessed that it did seem time for me to do something new. Reluctant to see me leave APA, he arranged my transfer to a new senior research associate position in the Research Department even before hiring his new research director. To Frank, retaining me was more important than waiting for that process to take its course. Frank was like that–people came first. Always.
New
Zealand is a nation that counts its annual
totals of gun homicides in single digits, as a friend of mine who just
returned from a visit Down Under accurately notes. It is, by comparison to most
of the world, an incredibly peaceful, peace-loving country. Yet two days ago,
on Friday, March 15, an Australian
white nationalist allegedly killed 50 people and wounded 39 others in a
mass shooting at two mosques in Christchurch, the largest city on the South
Island. This same city lost 185 people in a series of earthquakes
in 2011, but that was a natural disaster. While it delivered painful
lessons about building standards and preparedness, it did not hang the specter
of evil over the city or the nation. Brenton Harrison Tarrant is alleged to
have done exactly that. Christchurch is a city in shock and mourning.
I don’t ordinarily use this blog to discuss mass shootings,
bombings, and terrorist incidents. For one thing, they have become too common
in some parts of the world, including, sadly, the United States, and I prefer
to spend my limited time trying to use my special expertise to make the world a
better place to whatever extent I can. That expertise lies largely in urban
planning and natural hazards, not in terrorism or crime, but readers will
notice that I also discuss more pleasant topics like travel and books and the
arts. I write a blog because I am also a professional writer.
But some events become more personal. In 2008, at the invitation of the Centre for Advanced Engineering in New Zealand (CAENZ) at the University of Canterbury in Christchurch, I accepted a three-week Visiting Fellowship to work with CAENZ on land-use policy for addressing natural hazards in New Zealand. In late July and the first half of August of that year, I traveled the country with Kristin Hoskin, then a member of the CAENZ staff and currently an emergency management consultant who lives in Christchurch. I delivered seven lectures and seminars in those three weeks, visiting several cities on a tour that ended in Christchurch, which did not experience its earthquakes until more than two years later. In the course of much advance reading and a great deal of inquisitive conversation and exchange with Kristin and others, I learned a great deal about the country. When I left, I was aware that, while it faces challenges and problems like any other nation, it generally does so through remarkably civil debate and politics. While I realize that New Zealand benefits, in that regard, from its relatively small size—about two-thirds the area of California and a population of roughly 4.2 million—I still must say, as an American, that my own country could easily learn something about civil behavior from the Kiwis. Far too much of our own current political debate is not only over the top, but downright crude and thoughtless.
And so I reacted, when I learned of the shootings in
Christchurch, like someone who had, on an emotional level, been stabbed in the
heart. It was hard even to picture the scene that was being painted on the
news. I tried to imagine the horror felt by people like Kristin, and George Hooper,
the executive director of CAENZ when I was visiting, or others I had met around
the country. I will admit it brought tears to my eyes thinking about it. How
could it happen?
I first got the urge to write about it on Saturday but did nothing about it. I labored to produce a title, then sat there, staring at the screen. Mind you, I am not one who ordinarily wrestles with writer’s block. The words often come pouring out, and the challenge is simply to edit and refine them. But this time, I could not get started. Two or three times, I stared at the screen but wrote nothing. It was too hard. More than ever, I am filled with admiration for the young people from Marjorie Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida, who found their voice after the mass shooting there, or others who have similarly taken action after violent tragedies. It is not easy. But it is extremely important. And if New Zealanders respond positively to Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern’s promise to tighten gun laws, then they are far ahead of the tortured American politics that have stood in the way of gun reform in the U.S.
I would also note that I am spurred by some of what I have read today in the Chicago Tribune. One article recites the story of Abdul Aziz, 48, a father of four sons and a member of the Linwood mosque, who shouted, “Come here!” to lure the gunman away from the mosque, risking his own life, and who stunned the man by throwing a credit card machine, which he said was the first thing he could find, at the shooter’s car, shattering the window. Other stories of courage will probably emerge in coming days, but it is a reminder to all of us that such courage is not tied to any one religion, race, or nationality. It reflects depth of character.
That is the saddest part of it all. There are those among us, and they hide within a wide variety of identities, whether it is Islamic extremism, white nationalism, Christian, Jewish, Buddhist, or Hindu tribalism, or some other perceived affiliation that somehow fosters hatred instead of a common love of humanity, who fill the void in their own emotional and intellectual development with a fear of others that causes them to fail to see our common humanity. The justifications vary, but one common thread is paranoia and a painful, even crippling, inability to reach out and open their hearts to those different from themselves, whether in language, skin color, national origin, gender, religious belief, or some other supposedly defining characteristic.
And every so often, that sense of separateness and need for a feeling of superiority erupts in an attack against people who are simply living their own lives, worshiping as they believe they should, but have done nothing to the perpetrator(s). In the case of Dylann Roof in Charleston, members of the Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church welcomed him into a Bible study before he unexpectedly opened fire on them and killed nine people. Welcome was greeted with murder.
The real miracle of God is when his worshipers responded to such violence by insisting that more love is the answer. The Charleston survivors chose to forgive Dylann Roof. People suffering such attacks are certainly entitled to ask, “Why?” Even, and most certainly, “Why us?” That is a vital part of the grieving process. But don’t be surprised if New Zealanders, and the Muslims of Christchurch in particular, insist that love is the only path forward.
Hillsborough
County is a dense metropolitan area, anchored by the city of Tampa. Tampa and nearby
St. Petersburg, in
Pinellas County, sit on opposite
shores of Tampa Bay, a 400-square-mile
expanse of water connected to the Gulf of Mexico. Across
that gap sits the Sunshine
Skyway Bridge, a magnificent and scenic section of I-275. On a sunny day,
it displays coastal Florida in all its glory.
Eugene
Henry, like anyone else, enjoys those sunny days, but he also worries about
what may happen when the region suffers inclement weather. As Hillsborough
County’s Hazard Mitigation Program Manager, it is his job to think about how
well the area will fare under the impact of natural and other disasters, which
can include hurricanes, floods, tornadoes, sinkholes, and wildfires. At least
the first two are complicated by sea level rise, and one can easily argue that
climate change in a broader sense may well influence the damage from wildfires.
For those uninitiated in the particulars of Florida’s natural environment,
wildfires are a recurring feature. In what is ordinarily such a lush
environment fostered by rain and abundant sunshine, it takes only one drought
year amid high heat to turn dense vegetation into a tinderbox. It has happened
before, repeatedly.
But the biggest concern, by far, is the arrival of the Big
One, the high-intensity hurricane that the county readily admits it has escaped
in recent decades. In its Post-Disaster
Redevelopment Plan (PDRP), the county states forthrightly that this is
merely a matter of good fortune and that planners fully understand that the day
will surely come—and that they had best be ready for it. Disaster resilience in
the face of hurricanes is not a matter to be taken lightly with 158 miles of
shoreline along Tampa Bay, numerous rivers and streams, and numerous
vulnerable, low-lying areas. Absent serious attention to mitigation, damages
from a Category 4 or 5 hurricane, or one like Harvey that stalls and dumps
voluminous rain on an urban area, could become catastrophic.
But Tampa and Hillsborough County have been very fortunate.
The last Category 3 hurricane struck the area in 1921. What may have been a Category
4 struck in 1848, though wind speed measurements were primitive at the time,
and the U.S. had no official records yet. According to the county’s Local
Mitigation Strategy, that storm “reshaped parts of the coast and destroyed
much of what few human works and habitation were then in the Tampa Bay area.”
Tides rose 14 feet. Tampa was still a small city then, and Gene Henry wonders
about the staggering losses that might occur with a comparable event today.
I had long wanted to visit the area to see in person how
these issues are being addressed. I have known Gene for a long time, and I have
read the county’s PDRP, an extensive document laying out the county’s
preparations for recovery from disasters. But I had never been to Tampa. As the
result, however, of a personal invitation from a high school classmate, David Taylor, who now
lives in Sarasota,
my wife and I flew to Tampa February 20 and stayed with Dave and his wife,
Linda, for five days. Sarasota is about one hour’s drive south of Tampa. As
part of the trip, I arranged to meet with Gene the day after we arrived and
tour the county to see the hazard mitigation projects underway there. I also
delivered a one-hour lecture the following afternoon in West Palm Beach,
on behalf of Florida Atlantic University, as part
of a two-hour program that included a panel discussion following my talk on
“Recovery and Resilience: Facing the Disasters of the Future.” Not one to skip
a learning opportunity, Gene drove four hours from Tampa to attend the program.
But back to Hillsborough. My wife and I met Gene at the
county’s Emergency
Operations Center (EOC) around mid-morning, hopped in his county truck, and
took off. Our first stop was the Florida Center
for Design + Research, housed in the School of Architecture + Design at the
University of South Florida (USF),
Gene’s graduate alma mater. The school features an urban planning program where
he wanted us to meet Professor
Brian Cook. Planning students often take studio classes, which involve
design or research work on real-life community problems. Students learn to
define a community design or policy issue, work with clients, and try to
produce solutions that will be of some practical value to the community they
are serving. They typically work in teams. In this case, students were applying
geographic information system (GIS), or mapping, skills to determine areas of
high vulnerability to flooding and sea level rise in less affluent
neighborhoods. Gene’s county office collaborates with USF instructors to
identify areas of practical concern for the students’ work. The photos show
some of the design work the students have done, the best of which is often
displayed in poster sessions at state and national professional planning conferences.
Posters (above and below) from the USF design studio
The most encouraging aspect of that visit was, for me, the mere fact that the students are engaging with such a pressing problem. I have researched the issue of hazards and climate change in the planning curriculum for both undergraduate and graduate degree programs in urban planning, and most such programs are lacking in this respect, a situation that is disserving the planners of tomorrow who must be well trained to come to grips with these challenges in whatever communities they end up serving. But a growing number of students are getting such training—I have myself been teaching such a course at the University of Iowa since 2008—and southern Florida is as good a laboratory as they could wish for. To see collaboration between a county agency and USF graduate students and faculty is a most welcome note.
But Gene had other places to take us in the afternoon,
besides, that is, the Cuban-themed La Teresita restaurant
where we ate lunch—a place I am willing to recommend if you ever visit Tampa.
First up in the afternoon was the University
Mall area north of downtown Tampa and just east of I-275. This involves a
stormwater management and flood-mitigation project in an area subject to a
certain amount of repetitive loss, meaning that the same properties continue to
suffer periodic flood losses. The project removed structures while creating
additional areas for stormwater storage and reshaping a natural area known as
Duck Pond, thus creating a system for stormwater conveyance. This includes a
large stormwater pump that transfers slow-moving stormwater to areas further
downstream and, in due course, to a reservoir owned by the City of Tampa.
Before this project was initiated, storms used to inundate multifamily
apartment buildings, Gene says, as well as a nearby assisted living facility.
How does the county pay for all this? He credits a combination of local funds,
which is certainly not unusual, and federal money in the form of Hazard Mitigation
Grant Program (HMGP) funds. The latter are available as part of an overall
recovery package after a Presidential Disaster
Declaration, but require that purchased properties, once cleared, remain in
perpetual open space. The point is to ensure that a vulnerable area is not
redeveloped, thus perpetuating the problem.
At 132nd Street, also in Tampa, another flood-mitigation
and stormwater management project presents a very different appearance. This
too was subject to repetitive loss and required protection from urban flooding,
which is typically the result of poor stormwater drainage in developed areas. The
problems can include poor water conveyance from one area to the next—the nearby
highway provided an impediment to drainage—and high levels of impervious
surface, meaning coverage with concrete and structures that limit percolation
of water into the soil. In this case, a small subdivision suffered repetitive
flooding even with small storms. Here also, the county acquired homes with HMGP
funds, which are dispensed by the Federal
Emergency Management Agency (FEMA). The streets were removed, and
stormwater ponds were added.
This was a location where the county’s partnership with USF
paid dividends. Researchers analyzed which plants were best at removing
nitrogen and other chemicals common in stormwater runoff in order to clean up
the water before it reaches Tampa Bay. Henry says this project was made
possible through a combination of local and HMGP funds in combination with
federal Community
Development Block Grant entitlement money.
I included the chain link in my photo to show that the solution may not be complete. After all, chain link fences are intended to limit access. What consideration, I asked, had been given to eventually converting this cleared area to some sort of public park and thus facilitating a public benefit? There can be challenges in part because of pollution cleanup and other public safety factors. Gene readily admitted he would love that solution, but it may take time. The adjoining neighborhood must be comfortable with that use, which can involve solving various site-related problems. A nearby church might be a potential ally, serving as a patron and watchdog, but reaching agreement about solutions and responsibilities, including ongoing maintenance and supervision, takes time. And only time will tell whether such a solution materializes with the support of local public officials.
Some projects assist a single homeowner with a stubborn
problem. This is often the case with homes that are elevated, a common site in
parts of the Southeast, where coastal and riverine flooding can wreak havoc
with homes in vulnerable locations that do not necessarily require buyouts and
relocation. That was the case near Rocky Creek,
where a homeowner rebuilt a structure elevated three feet above base flood
elevation (BFE) using a combination of private funds and a Flood
Mitigation Assistance (FMA) grant from FEMA. The result is living space
that is better protected when flood waters surround the lower level.
The same story occurred at a home near the Alafia River, where
another homeowner was elevated three feet above BFE, using the same combination
of funds.
Gene also shared with us an interesting strategy at a
frequently flooded and highly vulnerable modular home park, where an area had
been cleared of its former homes to allow repopulation with recreational
vehicles (RVs). The logic is that, when flood warnings arrive, RV owners will
be able, unlike those with more stationary modular homes, to simply drive off
the site to safer areas until the emergency subsides. The initiative, Gene
says, was taken by the park’s new owner (which owns other parks nationwide), which
identified no more permanent structures in the floodway as part of its
compliance strategy after the most recent flooding event in the area.
This area is slated for RV occupancy only.
Finally, we returned to learn a little about the EOC. We
visited what is often known in such centers as the “war room,” where designated
officials meet to discuss and establish strategies for dealing with an
emergency of any sort that activates the emergency operations plan. In the
photo, each chair is designated for a specific official, with groups of people
with related tasks seated in color-coded sections of the room. Many such EOCs
are much smaller, but Hillsborough County is very urban and populated, and the
needs are complex and interrelated. It is expected that those involved will
arrive with authority to respond to the disaster, to indicate what they are and
are not capable of doing as part of the overall response to disaster. It is not
a place where one expresses a need to go back to another office and “find out.”
Hillsborough County Emergency Operations Center “war room”
Ready to relax and enjoy a drink and a snack, we followed
Gene down the highway to the Sunset
Grill at Little Harbor, which has a beautiful view of the bay. At dusk,
numerous people followed a daily ritual of photographing the sunset over the
water. Tourist attraction it may be, as well as a local watering hole, but the
surrounding area has a significant mangrove forest and salt-bed areas that were
preserved as open space using Environmental Land Acquisition Funds from what
Gene describes as a “locally instigated preservation program.”
Hillsborough County’s Hazard Mitigation Program Manager, Eugene Henry, at rest at Sunset Grill at the end of our day-long tour.
And so, with the sun declining in the west, we sat at an
outdoor table and hashed over the world’s problems, and sometimes our own. One
point that seems clear to me is that Hillsborough County has a great deal to
offer to other jurisdictions, just as it has undoubtedly learned a great deal
as well—one reason both he and a resident scholar and Japanese graduate student
from the University of Illinois, Kensuke Otsuyama,
planned to drive to West Palm Beach the next day to hear my presentation. Although
there is sometimes a tendency for local governments to become more insular, to
allow fewer opportunities for employees like Gene to share and exchange
information in professional forums and conferences, this, I think, is always a
mistake. The growth in the value of what someone like Gene does lies in this
fruitful sharing of experience and perspectives that such opportunities allow,
and I hope that will continue, for certainly Gene made my day by sharing his
time to allow me to learn and to share with the growing readership that follows
this blog.
Supplemental Comment:
Although the hearing was held today, making live streaming a
moot point, significant written and recorded testimony on hazard mitigation and
climate resilience issues occurred before the U.S. House Appropriations
Subcommittee on Transportation, Housing, and Urban Development. Yesterday, the
following link was made available from several sources including the American Planning
Association (APA) to provide access to this testimony and information:
Representatives from APA, PEW, Houston Public Works,
Rutgers University, and the Town of Arlington, MA are delivering testimony to
the Transportation and Housing and Urban Development (THUD) congressional
subcommittee tomorrow, March 13th at 10:00 a.m. EST. THUD, a part of
the House Committee on Appropriations, writes laws that fund the federal
government’s important responsibilities. The testimony is available for
streaming here:
The size of the American Planning Association‘s loss when Stuart Meck departed can be measured easily by the size of Rutgers University‘s gain when he joined their staff, a fact immortalized by the Rutgers decision to name a lecture series after him. Marya Morris, who probably worked most closely with him at APA, got the opportunity recently to present the eulogy at the opening of that series. She shared some memorable stories, including his near death in the early 2000s when he was struck with an intestinal infection while they both were in Prague. It seems the Czech government felt it could learn a great deal about planning law reform by having Stuart Meck lead a 12-session workshop on the subject for high government officials. Pretty heady stuff.
I also worked with Stuart, though not as much as Marya. But we teamed up on hazard mitigation content for his pet project, funded by seven federal agencies and a few foundations, on statutory reform of state planning laws, known as Growing Smart. We also teamed up on a PAS Report, Planning for Wildfires. That may have been more in my wheelhouse, but trust me, Stuart was no slouch in mastering new topics and contributed very substantially to the final product.
Between all these major efforts, he found time incessantly to mentor the younger research staff at APA and was an indefatigable cheerleader for his profession. Did I mention he also co-authored a tome on Ohio Planning and Zoning Law? His productivity was a miracle to behold, as was his willingness to defend what he believed in. He died sooner than most of us who knew him would have liked, but he still deserves his day in the sun. The photos below, of various phases of his life, were provided by his daughter, Lindsay Meck. Thanks, Lindsay, for your help in this regard.
Stuart was also a jazz fan.
Posted to Facebook 2/10/2019
GRATITUDE ON PARADE #gratitudeonparade It’s been a couple of weeks, and I’ve been busy, but I have a great one today. I visited with Eugene Henry last Thursday and Friday while in Florida. On Friday, February 22, Gene’s dedication drove him across the state to West Palm Beach to hear my lecture for Florida Atlantic University on “Recovery and Resilience,” followed by a panel discussion and reception. Mind you, it’s a four-hour drive from Tampa.
But the day before, he hosted my wife and me on a personal day-long tour of Hillsborough County to show me the work they have done on hazard mitigation to reduce risks from hurricanes and floods. In a day or two, I plan to post a blog article on this subject, but Gene for some time has been the hazard mitigation program manager for Hillsborough County, a large urban area that includes Tampa. Gene is, as my friend Lincoln Walther, one of the panelists in West Palm Beach, said, “one of the best.” He has pushed the program forward, and he was a force behind the development of a very progressive Post-Disaster Redevelopment Plan that Hillsborough County pioneered several years ago. Gene is looking forward to retirement in a few years, but his contributions have been outstanding and deserve serious recognition. He is a true leader in the mitigation field. Let this tribute be a beginning, followed by the upcoming blog post.
Posted to Facebook 2/26/2019
GRATITUDE ON PARADE #gratitudeonparade Today, I’d like to thank my long-time friend and high school classmate, David Taylor, and his wife, Linda, for their hospitality in sharing their home and time with us during our recent visit to Florida. David is the person who spurred me to come to Sarasota in the first place. He is also a photographer who used his resources, time, and energy, to film the entire two-hour program that I keynoted in West Palm Beach for Florida Atlantic University on February 22.
A Purple Heart Vietnam veteran, Dave is passionate about some subjects, including respect for veterans, and shared his stories with me and others about fighting his way back from serious injuries. He’s generous to the core but wise in his years. He was the emcee for our 50-year reunion last June in Brecksville, Ohio, for the Class of 1968. There is a lot I can say. He is currently taking film and history classes at State College of Florida with both students and professors younger than us, and enjoying it thoroughly because he has so much to share.
Most importantly, perhaps, he has gotten so
excited about what he heard from listening to me that he wants to take all that
talent and use it to help document disasters photographically, even as he
gorges his brain on all that I have produced. Here’s to a good friend still
finding his energy and a new mission in life as he nears 70.
The photo below? I cropped it to show him and Linda more closely, but the larger version, well, they’re standing under the Kissing Sailor statue in downtown Sarasota, which replicates that iconic photo from the end of WWII.
Posted to Facebook 2/27/2019
GRATITUDE ON PARADE #gratitudeonparade In the year after Hurricane Katrina, I met a young professor at University of New Orleans who was teaching transportation planning–John Renne. Soon, he had invited me to provide a closing keynote at a conference with a distinct theme: Carless Evacuation. Using a federal DOT grant, John was focusing attention on the central question of emergency management in the Big Easy: How do we move those people to safety who are the most vulnerable and lack independent transportation to just get out of town?
John has continued to raise vital questions like that ever since, even after moving in recent years to Florida Atlantic University. Florida faces plenty of its own questions concerning hurricane safety, and at 44, it would seem we can expect his contributions to keep coming. Recently, he and FAU hosted me to keynote a program on “Resilience and Recovery: Facing Disasters of the Future,” and I appreciated the chance to interact with planning professionals on what is known in Florida as the Treasure Coast. Bringing a hazards focus to transportation planning has been John’s unique and valuable asset not only regionally but nationally. FAU should be, and probably is, glad to have him.
In the photo below: Hank Savitch, Alka Sapat, myself, Lincoln Walther, John Renne. Hank, Alka, and Link joined me on the discussion panel that followed my talk in West Palm Beach a week ago. John was the moderator.
