Maintaining the Village

By Mary Sharry
Sun contributor

Strains of a Gregorian chant drift on evening air through an open window. Farther along, my ears are greeted by keyboard music, the notes of a Bach Two-Part Invention. Down an alley in someone’s backyard, a man blows out the flames on the burning marshmallow his child has brought to him. The other adults in the circle carefully rotate their sticks over the glowing embers of the fire pit. On another street, murmurs of conversation from a couple on a front porch swing blend with soft laughter. They acknowledge me with comments at this perfect time of day. This idyllic setting is part of the village life of Empire.
The morning brings commercial hustle and bustle when the mail truck turns the corner by the post office, and produce arrives at Deering’s Market and the Friendly Tavern. The pumps at Taghon’s Amoco Shop are turned on. Dennis Taghon opens the garage for another day of auto repair. People walk to the library to return videos and to check out books. They walk to the bank and cross over the street to Tiffany’s for coffee, donuts, and light or profound talk. Grownups and children ride their bikes down to the beach. A rainbow and colorful flowers have been drawn on a sidewalk by some child. I try not to step on them.
Greetings are hollered from the other side of the street. Some of these people grew up together. They attended the school here in town. That was years ago. Times have changed. The school has closed, so has one of the larger businesses, the hardware and lumberyard. The school and business made an impact on life in the village, and so did their closings.
At another day’s end, outside of town, silhouetted against the sky like dinosaurs and Maurice Sendak monsters, stand the machines. Come the dawn, they will gobble up land in preparation for new housing. This is not the housing that will invite glimpses of other lives, but rather housing that will stand apart, the inhabitants removed from the knowing of life in the village.
There are still a few pieces of open land and rolling hills, once farmed. These vistas give comfort to our human spirit, perhaps more than we know. They are going fast, though, and once they disappear, they will be gone forever. Land is being sold for profit and development at an alarming rate. Real estate has become a factor that drives the economy. This is not right. With the disappearance of open land, something far deeper in meaning which we might imagine is lost. The open views are the very thing that brought people to this area. It is sad to think we might discover, only after the loss of these vistas, that over-use and consumption have gone too far.
While our species has a great desire for view property, have we considered what happens once that property is gone? Perhaps future real estate ads will tout a chunck of land as having a view of the view property!
It is not only the views that will be gone, but so will extensive wildlife habitat. The loss will take a toll on bird populations, both those birds that thrive in open grasslands and those in need of forests. Their decline should concern us all.
In her book Touch the Earth, T.C. McLuhan writes: . . .the only decent future for us who live in America now is through a rediscovery of our environment. We need to establish a right relationship with the land and its resources: otherwise, the destruction of the Indian will be followed by the destruction of nature; and in the destreuction of nature will follow the destruction of ourselves.
There is a way to help preserve open land with careful planning, conservation, and land trusts. It is wise to remember our reasons for coming to this area, and it is wise to be careful that we not destroy that which we love, the appearance of the land that adds to our sense of peace and serenity.
Empire is an inviting village, and you often hear the comment “I’d love to live in your town, but could I make a living here? Where would I live?” This is a small town, and by the framework of its boundaries it will remain a small town. It should not be a closed town, however. Instead of growth outside of town, there is land inside the village with potential for healthy development – affordable housing, and the vitality that new businesses might bring.
I have a vision of the old school building being revitalized for just that, a school. Perhaps Glen Lake Schools could expand to accommodate a fine arts and crafts department here in town, a learning and exploring center where youthful creativity could flourish. I sense a need for that. Maybe the old hardware store could be converted into a medical clinic. Are there some doctors and their families who would like to live and work in the village? I don’t know if it’s for sale, but if it were, wouldn’t the former auto/livery barn on the corner of Niagara and Lake Streets be a grand location for new apartments? Development within the village can maintain the open spaces outside of town, and likewise keep the heart of the community alive and well.
There is something truly close and special about small towns and even cities. I have lived in a small town, in a big city, and in an area which was once open land, but which succumbed to the developer’s shovel – the suburb of a city, a place of large, grassy lawns, and much mowing and spraying of chemicals. There were no sidewalks in that suburb, and people got into their cars and drove to buy their daily bread. Both the city and the small town offered a sense of community which the suburb lacked. In the closeness, you felt as if you belonged, and part of that belonging came on foot – the advantage of being a pedestrian.
The intimacy of life in the city and town extended beyond musical tastes. Our homes were close together. Mindful of radio and television volume, if sound levels offended, it took nothing more than a courteous request to turn the volume down. Yes, occasionally raised voices carried next door, the verbal challenges of a marital spat. Such is the stuff of life, the manner of people living together.
Further housing development on the precious land outside of the village will bring people into this town by car and back out again without their ever knowing that someone listens to Gregorian chants or plays Bach on the piano.