Candelas

 I used to live on the outskirts of Arvada, Colorado.  Our small neighborhood of single-family homes was surrounded on three sides by expansive farmlands. Trails and open space areas were within walking and biking distance. The grocery store, high school, and bank weren’t far either; just a quick five-minute car drive.  It was the perfect little enclave, a close community with easy access to everything important. It even included a tiny park.

               My family no longer lives on the outskirts of Arvada, even though we have remained in the same house for over two decades. What has moved is the city, expanding outward in an alarming display of backwards thinking and archaic logic.

The pastoral landscapes I loved are gone, replaced by wide roads that twist and meander through new neighborhoods like rivers of black asphalt. The homes all exhibit similar characteristics—features that developers believe are essential to fulfilling the “American Dream.”  They are expansive displays of opulence: multi-car garages, wide driveways, and two-story heights. Multiple bedrooms, bathrooms, and activity rooms are abundant in the floor plans. All homes are single-family in design.

With every planning commission approval of such projects, part of me whimpers, disappointed that opportunity after opportunity is missed to create something new.

Change is needed in this suburban community, which is why I was elated when I heard of Candelas back in 2011. In an undeveloped tract of land on the western edge of Arvada was the location for a master-planned community. Their website touted Candelas as  something different: a community that prided itself on sustainability, walkability, and mixed-use zoning. It was to have several town centers, complete with pedestrian promenades and apartments above shops. Instead of just offering single-family homes, Candelas would offer an array of different housing options and styles, including condominiums, townhomes, and apartments. Open space would be abundant, and trails would connect the town centers to parks and the Rocky Mountains. Offices would be incorporated too, so commutes to and from work would be a quick bike ride or walk.

Candelas was to be the largest building expansion in Arvada’s history. I hoped other Colorado mixed-use projects, like Broomfield’s Arista and Lakewood’s Belmar neighborhoods, would be envious.

In the past, as evident by the continuous approval of new single-family neighborhoods, Arvada and its City Council had been stuck in the mentality that the only way to get people into the city, and to establish a decent tax base, was to build houses. They saw no need to attract businesses or industry through improved connectivity between commercial and residential areas. This emphasis on single-family residential had been a disservice to the community. It promoted unhealthy lifestyle choices, and priced younger buyers and less fortunate ones out of the market.  With the development of Candelas, I thought there would be a transformation. I wanted to believe in Candelas’ slogan: “Life Wide Open.” I yearned for stronger community connections, better health, and more concern for the environment.

So far, Candelas has not met my expectations.

Further delving into the design of the project, it’s evident that it was intended for the automobile and the old way of living. While marketed as mixed-use, a majority of the land is platted for single-family homes; fifteen hundred, to be exact. Floor plans range in size from 2,000 square feet, all the way up to 5,000 square feet.

The developers have even made modifications to the project to convert designated higher density housing into lower density single-family units. They claim nobody wants apartments and condos. Yet, they can’t back up their facts with evidence, unable to cite anything but “the market” driving single-family sales. In just the past few months, several zones with signs designating opportunity for mixed-use, office, and multi-family residential have come down, too, replaced by ones offering land as “pad sites.” Still, the developer reassures the public that there is still plenty of opportunity for a blend of housing options in Candelas, despite their continuous requests for modifications to the master plan.

I’m skeptical.  

The project also relies heavily on a conceptual plan to build a tolled highway that connects the communities surrounding Denver. Proponents of the six-lane Jeffersonian Parkway claim that the highway will reduce sprawl by concentrating building projects alongside it. If the highway isn’t built, the developer has threatened to remove the town center elements of the project and replace them with strip malls. If there’s no visibility from the highway, they say it will be too costly to build such amenities. So far, there have been no discussions on alternative transportation options, like improving the bussing system in the area, or expanding nearby county roads to include bicycle lanes to broaden Candelas’ connectivity with the rest of Arvada and the Denver Metro Area.

I encourage development. Populations grow and evolve; the only constant in the environment is change. What I don’t accept is the idea that the “American Dream” is to have a house with a white picket fence in a quiet neighborhood for your wife and two children, and a large car to drive you to and from work and everywhere in between. That’s no longer relevant. The vision has evolved into something better. It no longer focuses on the quality of one’s possessions; it focuses on experiences. The way we live and the places we live in need to transform with that new dream.  

I have watched in dismay as sprawl consumed the landscapes I cherished growing up. People are starting to listen now. City Council has approved the development of two large apartment complexes, and has passed an ordinance streamlining the litigation process for multifamily construction defect laws. All of this has been done in anticipation of the Gold Line light rail stations coming in 2016. Yet, there is still much to do, and I will continue to advocate for smarter development, and smarter ways of living.  

With my eyes open to the real Candelas, I see that their motto doesn’t align with my vision of smart growth as much as I’d hoped, but that doesn’t mean I will be silent and resign to the status quo. There’s always opportunity to bring forth positive change in the community, and it starts with the citizens. I hope you, dear reader, will join me.

Indifference

            When I open my mailbox, it’s packed with mailers. Re-elect So-and-So. Recall Him or Her. Move Forward. Move Backward. Vote!  Vote! Vote! With mail in hand, I retreat to my condo, tossing the loose sheets of paper on the counter as I pass by. I turn on the television. News programs and commercials discuss rallies, meetings, and stumps. Vote for me because I said so. Don’t vote for him/her because they’re evil! She did what? How dare he! Vote for me! Don’t vote for him! Do you remember my name yet? Vote! Vote! Vote!

            Messages aren’t just relayed through mailers and television, though. They’re also seen on fences and in yards, those political signs flapping slowly in the wind. Some go missing, some get slashed. Take one away, though, and it somehow finds its way home. Choose me! Don’t choose him! Eat a sandwich! Vote! Vote! Vote!

            It doesn’t stop there. The newspapers and online magazines are full of commentaries and coverage of the issues we all face. This is happening! That is happening! Everything is awesome! Everything is not awesome! My head hurts! Vote! Vote! Vote!

Coverage is constant. Unending.

            But is anyone listening?

                                                            ***

            During my time studying at the University of Colorado, I immersed myself in subjects that interested me: German literature, the grotesque, non-fiction, Congress, state legislatures, and many more. Having devoted my full attention and effort to such classes, it was natural that I was successful in them. I enjoyed what I learned, and was eager to learn more. I became well versed in the subjects I felt mattered.

            However, attending university doesn’t mean you can take electives like underwater basket weaving, or in my case, postmodern literature in England, without having to take some other classes to keep you well rounded. One such mandated class was physics. Having decided against studying physics in high school, they made it a requirement for me.

I was displeased.

If I disliked the two days of physics lectures I took in high school, what made CU Boulder think I’d enjoy a semester full of them?

Because the university was kind, they gave me three choices: I could take a sound and music physics class, a physics class that taught of light and color, or I could not graduate. Being color-blind eliminated the option for light and color. Taking that would have resulted in an automatic fail, for sure. Not graduating college wasn’t even a possibility for me, so I opted for the sound and music course.

I wasn’t going to like it, but it had to be done.

            Walking into the auditorium on my first day, I snagged a seat on the top row near the exit, which was unusual for someone who always sat up front. I pulled out my textbook, but didn’t open it. Instead, I sat there, watching the remaining two hundred students fill the room. A group of people came in the last minute and took the seats near me. We exchanged hellos and introductions, spoke of how much we were going to hate the class—aside from one guy—and  quieted down when the instructor came out from a door behind the stage. After the typical discussion of a syllabus, the professor began the lecture.

I knew I was in trouble from the moment she opened her mouth.

I had no idea what she was discussing, how it was relevant, how I could apply it to my life as a writer or a policymaker, or how I was going to retain the information long enough to not fail the class. She assigned us homework that night, and after struggling with it for an hour, I took to Facebook, searching with all my might for the student who sat next to me and said he liked physics. By some stroke of fortune, I found him. He agreed to help.

 We would meet and do the homework together. The other guy and girl who had attended the first lecture with us also joined in. We created a study group. We went to office hours. We went to help lab. We went to external lectures and concerts. We even went to an opera, trying to understand sound and music and gain credits for class through external assignments. These efforts, plus the occasional curving of a test, proved vital to my success. I was able to pass the class with a surprisingly high grade.

Because of all the time I spent studying physics, I learned physics. Shocking, I know. I could have been doing other activities, like visiting my attractive macroeconomics teacher, reading Goethe in the Norlin library, riding my bike through Golden, or playing chicken with oncoming traffic. But I chose to study physics because I knew that not doing so would negatively impact my future.

                                                *

Fast-forward to 2015. I have lost almost all knowledge of the physics pertaining to sound and music. Honestly, I don’t care. My mind is full of information that I have deemed relevant, such as school board recalls, mayoral candidates, and other ballot measures. It’s a pre-election year. There is a bountiful choice of presidential candidates available, and all talk about the dozens of issues that are causing America’s decline. They are white noise at this point, adding to the chaos around the select few issues being decided upon this November.

With the amount of coverage on issues this year, I thought there’d be an uptick in the number of voters who participate, and I believed they would be knowledgeable about the ballot measures and candidates. Trends show that non-presidential election years yield far fewer voters. It’d be foolish to think as many voters would turn up this year as they did last year, or the year before, but I was hopeful there’d be at least a decent amount of intelligent voters.

Then I read a local paper, and my hopes fell flat.

I won’t name the paper I read, because I don’t hold it in high regard. In this paper, one section that tends to be popular amongst readers is the poll question they ask. Once a week, a reporter will go out and ask citizens a question. They’ll jot down their answer, snap a photo of them, and post it in the paper. Some past questions include:

Do you enjoy pumpkin spice lattes?

What is your favorite thing to do in the summer?

Will Peyton Manning help the Broncos make it to another Super Bowl?

I’ll be honest, the responses to these questions are usually droll and not worth reading. But a few weeks ago, they asked a legitimate question, and it piqued my curiosity.

            What do you think of the candidates and issues on this year’s ballot?

            I was ecstatic to see a policy question! I was ready to be awestruck by the responses! I thought to myself, finally! People are beginning to understand the importance of local politics!

            Then I read the responses.

            Out of the four people polled—two men, two women—all of them said that they weren’t familiar with the issues. At all. One woman said she’d just look it up later before she votes. Another guy said he didn’t know what issues were on the ballot. Worst of all, one citizen said that he didn’t care because he’s more concerned with ISIS than his local community.

            I wanted to cry.

            Scream, too.  

Everyone deserves the right to vote, and everyone should vote, but as a voter, it is imperative that we be informed. Voting for or against someone based on their name, their looks, or their party affiliation doesn’t cut it. Those are characteristics of a person, yes, but they don’t illustrate everything.

Taking a little bit of time to research the people running for city councils and school boards, and looking at both sides of ballot issues, like recalls and taxes, is imperative to the voting process. Yes, the media is bias. Yes, we as humans are also bias, but we shouldn’t bar ourselves from the chance at utilizing a variety of sources for information, even if those sources have different views. You don’t need to be an expert on everything; you don’t even need to be an expert. You just need to know enough to make a good decision. Cramming at the last minute doesn’t get anyone far on midterms and final exams in college, and it won’t help when it comes to voting.

I think back to my physics class. I hated that class, but I knew that the information I absorbed through the lectures was important. Politics is no different. Many, many people hate politics. I don’t blame them. I hate physics. Yet, just because you aren’t interested in certain issues, doesn’t mean you should vote indifferently on them. Do a little research. It’s true, I didn’t remember every answer on my physics exams, even after hearing the information repeated over and over in lectures, and I know it’s difficult to pay attention when the attack ads come out blazing, and the mailers fill the postbox, and all we hear is Vote! Vote! Vote! Still, we must all persevere. Drown out the white noise. Synthesize the mass of information into something tangible you can understand and hear.

Spend a little time. In the end, you’ll have made yourself not just a voter, but an informed one. Being an ill-informed voter is just as bad as not voting at all.