The Urban Lanscape

It was a quiet morning with little distraction on the drive downtown to the heart of Phoenix where I work. I live in the land of Lexus, Porche, Audi, and the occasional Bentley. My car, sixteen years old, oxidized from the desert sun, purrs along with 330,000 plus miles. At first, I felt uneasy, as if I stood out and perhaps did not belong in this particular auto landscape. I sensed an "attitude." It actually was in the Trader Joe's parking lot that I first encountered the "attitude." A bleached blond in her Lexus convertible was going to cruise through a stop sign as I was invisible although almost half-way through the intersection. I hit the horn and she stopped. Her mouth open, incredulous, that I would not give way. I realized at that moment there was more to cars in the area where I live, than transportation.

I have moved here from off the grid. Living at 7,000 feet in the high mountain desert with only the sound of coyotes and the ravens to wake me in the morning and an occasional deer to bar my path out to the highway. I was not accustomed to the human element. I would so love to meet her on my old turf, but we all know that isn't going to happen as there is no one to "see" you out there, at least in the human form.

Today as I drove to my office six stories above downtown Phoenix, I encountered the complexity of the urban landscape. There was a silver Jaguar in front of me changing lanes at random and suddenly out of the driver's side window was tossed a plastic water bottle. I remember it as it was aimed at my car and rolled under my wheels. Somehow I never connected littering and Jaguars in the same breath. The water was of the fancy high-end variety I noticed as I watched it roll across the street in my rear view mirror.

I drive through many varied neighborhoods on my way to the downtown ASU campus. I prefer the surface streets as I feel more connected to my surroundings. At thirty-five to forty miles per hour, I can feel the streets beneath me and hear the varied noises of urban life. I become a part of the commute, not just someone passing through. A few minutes later, I was on a neatly lined street with medical buildings and churches and a community center, when I encountered two men and their shopping cart. I suspect it was filled with their life. Whatever treasures they keep were neatly wrapped and bundled. One man was carefully buttoning his shirt and making sure all was tucked in as they waited at the crosswalk. They stood there with dignity, heads held high and smiled gently at one another.

In the space of ten minutes on my morning commute, preconceptions were suddenly shattered. And as we all know, preconceptions can easily turn into prejudice if hardened over time. It can creep in unnoticed. I had no idea that I was using an economic barometer to judge my neighbors. I have chafed at being a part of this urban landscape since I arrived sixteen months ago, but I sense there are many more moments waiting for me to reflect upon. And as much as I hate to admit it, I sense I have much more to learn about the human spirit on my morning commute and in my foray into this new and unknown territory.