A post adapted from a letter to my son and my daughter.
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Do you remember long ago when you were just children, when I worked (too briefly) for the Sky Valley News in Monroe? I am sure you do. I even talked about it with one of you a couple of weeks ago, as we were driving through the town. We had some interesting experiences when I had that job, didn’t we? I remember it was because of that position as a reporter that we got to ride in a blimp once. That was a marvel, and an experience to remember for a lifetime, wasn’t it?
One story I worked on in Monroe was not as pleasant, though… and today, all these years later, it has returned to me. The story I am remembering frustrated me then and, if I allow myself to think too long about it, bothers me to this day. It was a story I researched and wrote about a proposal to develop the area west of Monroe known as the “Fryelands”…
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The Fryelands was an area of farms and pasture. Lying in the flood plain of the Skykomish River, it was literally some of the most fertile farm and pasture land in the state, and maybe the nation.
It was also in a prime location for development. The Fryelands was an open area with few existing buildings. It was adjacent to a U.S. highway that was a main route across the mountains, connecting the eastern and western parts of the state. It was near the conveniences of a small town, yet rural and beautiful, as was the entire Sky Valley. With a new connector road opening to provide easy access to the big city, the Fryelands area was nothing less than the most desirable land for development in the entire Puget Sound area.
The story was whether the town of Monroe was going to allow developers to buy up all that beautiful open land between the hills, beside the river, and build houses and streets and stores all over it.
Despite my baggage growing up in Central Florida during the years when Disney transformed it from peaceful backwater into a bustling economic machine – a transformation that was not for the better, I assure you – I was determined to be objective in my research and writing. Whether I accomplished journalistic objectivity you can judge by reading the article. Regardless, by the time the article was published my personal opinion was strong and entirely on one side of the controversy. I knew then, and affirm now, that developing the Fryelands was a massive mistake, born of ignorance (or maybe just naivety) and greed. It marked the beginning of a decline of beauty, small town charm, and quality of life in the once-bucolic town of Monroe.
Just as my hometown in Central Florida succumbed to avarice and allowed itself to be changed into a tourist destination, so Monroe, Washington sold its soul for economic growth and “progress.” The city gave its approval, and the Fryelands were indeed developed. Where once grass and wildflowers grew thick in the damp peat, cattle thrived, and crops grew tall, subdivisions full of split-level houses sprouted. The fertile flood plains became a flood-prone residential neighborhood.
All this has come back to my mind as an echo in a most unexpected place.
I had been doing some reading on line, in particular a theological essay by Athanasius discovered by virtue of the fact that the introduction had been written by C.S. Lewis, whom I am studying. When I finished that intriguing exposition I noticed a different article on the same site. Because I have long had an interest in how our modern American society has chosen to structure our common geographic spaces, I followed the link to an article by Eric Jacobsen in ‘The City.’ I copy the first two sentences here:
“Driving from Seattle to Steven’s Pass along Highway 2 takes you right through a small city called Monroe. Nestled near the base of the Cascade Mountains and skirting the meandering path of the Skykomish River, this town of 16,000 could very well be a compact oasis of civilization to rival anything one would find in Switzerland or in the Lake District of England.”
Sounds wonderful, doesn’t it? It sounds like the Monroe I remember, the one I tried, in my own small way, to preserve over 20 years ago as a cub reporter. But I owe you a fair warning: Do not be tempted to find joy in this tricky travelogue with theological overtones. It only sounds wonderful for a moment. Mr. Jacobsen continued:
“But Monroe is nothing of the sort. It is an ugly collection of strip malls, oversized signs, and utility wires. In short, it is pretty much indistinguishable from most places you are likely to see when driving from one destination to another in this country.”
That kind of hurt, unexpected as it was. The author had drawn me back to remember the Monroe that was, and suddenly thrust in my face the Monroe that has become. It was blunt… but not untrue.
In the interest of providing context for these remarks, here is a portion of the author’s next paragraph:
“We’ve come to expect this kind of baseline ugliness in our small towns… this regrettable condition may very well be connected to two valuable words that have virtually dropped out of our national lexicon in the past few generations. The words ‘civic’ and ‘commons’ represent important aspects of our shared life that have been badly obscured…”
He goes on to explain with clarity and insight how we have mismanaged our public spaces, to suggest how we might do better, and to give theological significance to the issue.
The fact that Monroe, Washington has become so bad that Mr. Jacobsen chose it to illustrate his point appalls me on one level, but I admit that it does affirm me on another. I feel a tiny bit of satisfaction that I had sufficient insight to oppose the Fryelands development all those years ago. Today the error is all too easy to see, but then many otherwise intelligent people did not perceive the danger. I am glad that I was able to voice an opinion in opposition to the development, in conversation if not in print, back when there was still a chance to prevent some of the damage.
But following quickly after that satisfaction comes only sadness, a sadness much more powerful than whatever smug pride I felt in being proven correct. I take little comfort in having been right because my opinion, however correct it may have been, apparently made no difference in the life of the town of Monroe, and the path of development it chose to follow. If I, with a public pulpit in which to make my voice heard, did not affect the outcome, then what difference did it make that I was there at all?
Of course, I knew long before reading this article how that whole Fryelands thing had turned out. But the use of Monroe as an example sufficiently horrific to demonstrate the moral deficiency inherent in that civic decision… in a feature in a Christian publication halfway across the country over twenty years later… it served to emphasize to me the enormity of what we lost back in the ‘90s in the Sky River Valley.
Should I have abandoned objectivity and written a strongly worded opinion piece against the development? Would it have mattered?
To be sure, the development of the Fryelands was not the sole cause of the intense development of Monroe. It was only one of many such poor decisions by which a pastoral paradise became a commercial wasteland with a pretty backdrop. (There still are the unspoiled Cascade Mountains in the distance, thank God!) Nevertheless, I believe that the Fryelands decision was a historic point for the Sky Valley, a point at which the rush to develop and commercialize the land could have been stopped, or at least moderated. But it wasn’t.
Perhaps the Fryelands development saga is simply symptomatic. Could anyone have stopped the profit-driven train of development that was rolling irresistibly toward Monroe? I don’t know. But I wish I had tried harder. Even today I am a little bit nauseated at the irony of a nature group meeting at Fryelands Elementary School, or the dark humor of a McDonalds restaurant on Fryelands Boulevard.
I recommend Mr. Jacobsen’s article to you, available at www.civitate.org/2011/09/redeeming-civic-life-in-the-commons. But whether or not you read it, you should realize these things about decisions you and those around you might make today:
· However secular they may seem, decisions are likely to have ethical consequences.
· However desirable a given decision may seem to you, be careful. If you don’t think it through all the way, you may not recognize the loss that could come to you unexpected. You may not be able to bear the loss you didn’t anticipate. In every decision, be sure you consider collateral damage and unintended consequences.
· However much you want to stay out of a conflict, you may someday regret not standing up sooner or speaking with a louder voice in support of what you know to be RIGHT.
To quote Mr. Jacobsen once more, “…civic health is what towns like Monroe need to be the healthful and redemptive places that God desires us to inhabit.”
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Here’s what I hope you will take with you from this reminiscence:
Ethical understanding and moral courage, lacking in civic leaders and some reporters in Monroe, Washington in the early 1990s, are essential for you and me if we are to make a positive difference to this world we share, and if we are to advance the Kingdom of God in our little part of it.
Now go do the right thing. I love you.
- Dad (Gryphem)
