Too many

My driving history goes back to 1967. Roads were fairly empty then. Occasionally, a traffic slowdown heading to or from the beach on a summer weekend diminished driving enjoyment, but there were always workarounds, alternate routes or adjusted travel times.

Living in a less-crowded (but increasingly developed) town than where I started out, having had a brief commute to a neighboring town where I spent my career, it has been disconcerting to travel back to the places where I grew up, having to deal with more cars on the road than I ever knew in my youth. Even where I now live, traffic has come to dictate more and more where and when I travel, so as to avoid bottlenecks. Thankfully, retirement offers options that others do not have.

I can see, from when congestion has been unavoidable, how those who face it most days must become continually frustrated, aggravated, angered. A twice-a-day habit, experienced at least five of seven days a week, would have, one imagines, an influence that lasts longer than a troubling commute -- an influence that works its way into one's personality, in small ways at first, growing deeper and greater over time, without release.

Traffic is but one symptom of so many people living in close proximity. It is, perhaps, a reason for emotional extravagance that goes beyond road rage, worming its way into relationships and political ideation.

In my youth, there were wooded areas nearby my home. A good-sized park with two large ponds, a river, a mile-long encircling path, and extensive picnic areas provided plenty of open space and never seemed crowded, even when many were enjoying it.

I lived then in a home on what I now call a postage-stamp lot, about ⅛ acre. There were still empty lots here and there in town. I did not feel crowded.

Today, when I visit, it seens that every available space has been developed. Multi-story condominiums and apartment buildings have been constructed with little room between. The wooded area I played in is gone. The park still offers open space, although it has seen some of its area lost to construction of a football stadium and its need for more parking.

Traffic can be difficult much of the day there.

My home now is on a little less than an acre, with its own heavily-wooded section of mature trees. I enjoy relative privacy and the peace of mind that comes from not living cheek by jowl with others. It sustains me. I would wish the same for everyone, but where would one put them all?

So far, we can feed everyone. There are jobs for most. Still, it seems that something is amiss when our numbers, like the proverbial too-many-rats-in-a-cage, result in such density and its accompanying problems as we now have in so many places.

Here is an intriguing article about overcrowding.