|
10 Aug 2003 @ 11:14, by Bruce Kodish
Orlando, Florida—June, 2, 2000
In town for a McKenzie Institute conference on spinal therapy, I take an early afternoon walk outside my hotel. I sweat along International Drive about 3/4 of a mile up to where the sidewalk ends. Across the highway, I see something I’ve never seen before—a huge earthmover, a multi-jointed, tree-ripping tractor working the edge of a forested patch of Central Florida woodland.
It is interesting to see a ten-story high pine getting ripped out of the earth at its roots by the jaws of a mechanical beast. Ripped out of the earth as easily as you would pull a shallow weed from the loose dirt of your yard.
The sound of the tree crashing to the ground is muffled by the tree ripper's roar. The tree ripper grasps the pine in its jaws like an oversized toothpick. The beast pivots on its tractor base and turns 180 degrees to nestle the roots, long trunk and tip of the dying wood onto the pile of bodies it has collected.
A smaller "caterpiller" earth mover is pressing together the heaps of tree corpses into steeper piles along the denuded edges of the strand of trees. There are a lot of trees left and I imagine it will take a few days to completely strip this little chunk of land.
Another hundred yards along that side of the highway, a much larger piece of land has already been stripped, leveled and gouged, to build, I presume, the foundations of another hotel-commercial complex.
As I stand and view the ‘mayhem’, a small van pulls along the narrow strip of grass between me and the highway. Two young men pop out with surveyor’s posts. One of them comes close to where I stand. I point to the tree ripper and ask him what they’re building over there. He doesn’t know.
I shake my head and say, "It seems a shame. How many years did it take to grow what the ripper destroys in a moment?"
I can see the shadow of a frown move over his face like a passing cloud. He was born in Orlando, he tells me. (He looked about twenty-five.) "This is what they’ve been doing here since Disney came."
"Is there any control over the development?"
"Very few people are concerned," he says. "Most of the old-time residents have moved. And the new ones want housing developments and malls. The schools are getting overcrowded though. And some people are beginning to get concerned."
"I know you guys are just doing your job. Some development may be necessary. But it still seems such a shame to kill those trees. I’m a fan of The Monkey-Wrench Gang."
"What’s that," he asks.
"A novel about a group of people, about 25 years ago, who wanted to do something to preserve the environment. You might like it."
He nods and thanks me.
By this time, the other man is gesticulating by the truck, shrugging his shoulders, hands up, as if to say "What are you jabbering about…let’s get to work."
I tell the young man that it was nice talking with him. I walk a bit further then head back. As I pass the young surveyor, he looks up from his work and I smile and nod. "You stay out of trouble," I say.
"I’ll try," he replies.
|
|
Category: Diary
1 comment
27 Jul 2016 @ 11:08 by @86.13.203.169 : Cala Galdana-Minorca
I like the story.
Other entries in Diary
12 Oct 2004 @ 22:40: Morris (Mashe) Kodish (Oct. 21, 1910-Oct. 12, 2004)
5 Mar 2004 @ 09:32: Explanation for My Silence
14 Sep 2003 @ 16:38: The Pussycat Chronicles: Ketsele Joins Avivi
1 Aug 2003 @ 09:44: Avivi Kodish
|
