In the middle of the journey of my life, I am--as always--a woman on a bike. Although I do not know where this road will lead, the way is not lost, for I have arrived here. And I am on my bicycle, again.
Nearly two years ago, Bill de Blasio became the Mayor of New York City. Practically from the moment he assumed the office (or so it seems), he promised to ban horse carriages like the ones that carry tourists through and around Central Park.
He's faced a lot of opposition. About two weeks ago it was revealed that he's backing down and seeking only a partial ban, whatever that may mean.
As you can imagine, animal rights activists aren't happy. I can't blame them: After all, horses simply weren't meant to walk on asphalt or concrete or to breathe smog. (The streets around Central Park have some of the heaviest vehicular traffic in New York.) They are used to help perpetuate a romantic fantasy about New York: In the days when people rode carriages because there weren't other means of transportation (except, perhaps, for the horses themselves), this city was a darker, more dangerous and more squalid than it is now--unless you were very, very wealthy.
I have to wonder, though, how the animal rights activists (with whom I am in sympathy most of the time) would react to Santa and his reindeer. Now, because Donner, Blitzen, et al, fly through the air, their hooves aren't subjected to the impact that horses experience on Gotham streets. On the other hand, they are flying (I assume) at high altitudes. That means there would be less oxygen for them to breathe. Also, the effects of pollutants are magnified--which, in turn, could initiate or magnify respiratory conditions.
I think I might have found a solution for Santa--and Bill de Blasio--that just might make the animal rights activists happy:
"As a kid I had a dream – I wanted to own my own bicycle. When I
got the bike I must have been the happiest boy in Liverpool, maybe the
world. I lived for that bike. Most kids left their bike in the backyard
at night. Not me. I insisted on taking mine indoors and the first night I
even kept it in my bed."
One clue might be "Liverpool". I mean the one in England, not the one in upstate New York (where the locals joke that their town is so named because it has the same kind of weather as the British port city). When you think of people from Liverpool, who comes to mind first?
OK, you can be forgiven for saying "William Gladstone" or "Clive Barker"--or, for that matter, Kate Sheppard or Peter Shaffer. But if you're of my generation and know even less than I do about British or women's history, there is only one answer you can give.
That answer is, of course, The Beatles. And who was the most literate and articulate of the "Fab Four". You guessed it: John Lennon.
Somehow it's not a surprise that he had such a dream, or was so happy that it was realized. He had his flaws, but in the end, I think he really meant what he wrote in "Imagine".
Ironically and tragically, a deranged man with a gun ended his life, thirty-five years ago today.
The ensuing years have not lessened the shock of his murder. I often find myself playing his songs in my mind--or even humming or singing them--as I ride and do other things. It's appropriate, I think: If more people, especially in developed countries, rode bikes to work, school, shop, or simply for fun, we might come closer to having the sort of world he envisioned.
Seventy-four years ago today, the Japanese Imperial Navy launched a surprise attack on Pearl Harbor. Well, it was a surprise to most people, but some who were "in the know" saw the United States and Japan edging toward war for months before the attack.
Winston Churchill could barely conceal his glee: At last the Americans would join his fight against Japan's nominal allies, Germany and Italy. Never before, and never since, have Americans been so willing to go to war against another country.
It's almost a cliché to say that the attack, and US involvement in the World War, would change almost everything about American society and culture. As an example, it could be argued that the War had as much of a role as any other event in bringing about the Civil Rights movements of the 1950s and 1960s. Black American soldiers could sit at any café or pub table in Europe, but were separated from fellow citizens lighter than themselves within their own armed forces, not to mention in schools and other public places in their home towns, cities and states.
Also, the war turned the wave of blacks migrating from the south to the north into a tidal wave, changing the face of numerous communities all over the United States. Having large numbers of African Americans concentrated in urban neighborhoods would make it easier for leaders to organize marches and other kinds of protests than it had been when the same people were dispersed over miles of southern countryside. (Remember, this was decades before the Internet and Facebook!)
Now, since this is a bike blog, I have to tell you how the attack on Pearl Harbor--and the War--changed cycling, at least in this country. At the time, the average adult bicyle weighed 57 pounds (about 26 kilos). The government decreed that those bikes would be made ten pounds lighter, and that production of children's bicycles would cease altogether for the duration.
The reason for this change was that bicycles were being used in the military, and a lighter bike is easier to transport and maneuver. Also, it used less of the materials that were rationed during wartime. Those restrictions, of course, made fewer bicycles available for civilians to buy, but those who were able to get them discovered that they liked the lighter bikes. Manufacturers took notice and started to make bikes lighter still.
Further accelerating the change in American bicycles were the machines service members saw--and sometimes brought back from--the places in which they fought. The majority of the bikes to come to our shores came from England, but a few others came from Continental European countries. Those bikes--yes, even the English three-speed and French "ballon" bikes--were lighter than the "lightweight" models American manufacturers were making during the war.
Could it be that if Pearl Harbor hadn't been attacked, we might still be riding on those balloon-tired Schwinns, Columbias and Huffys? Hmm....
(Note: I mean no offense to any of you who still remember--or experienced--the tragedies of that day that "will live on in infamy"!)
