Novel Times, Novel Measures

The virtual home of Lawrence S. Grodeska

February 8, 2011 • 12:58 am 0

Can BetterMeans Mean Better Government?

[This post originally appeared on the OpenSF blog.]

Working in the public sector can be challenging, especially during those times when the strict hierarchy of government dictates priorities, timelines and tasks. Unfortunately, without rejiggering the machinations of government, this top down approach will not change anytime soon. Of course, that hasn’t stopped all of us in the Government 2.0 movement from hoping and dreaming that we can begin to change the lumbering institutions at the local level all the way up to the federal. As this blog can attest, that change has begun, but incrementally. So maybe we do need to think beyond web technologies and open data to question the social structures which make change in government so difficult.

Look no further than BetterMeans, a radical open enterprise governance model masquerading as a slick new project management tool.

Now that’s change we can believe in.

The software itself is a neat mix of project management and social capital platform that opens up the doors to the decision-making process for a given project or set of projects. Users contribute ideas to the projects which hold their interest in an open and transparent way. Users themselves are ranked by others that have worked with them on previous projects so that everyone is kept accountable. This collaborative approach then helps the group rank options for how to proceed based on the experience and insight of the entire group instead of relying solely on direction from management. Definitely check out the video above, you’ll see how well thought out this platform really is.

So, getting back to government. What is our tolerance for really incorporating the ideas of every member of a team? What would happen if our departments were more democratic in sourcing ideas and setting priorities? Or what if our elected officials were required to balance their agendas alongside those of rank and file public employees, or the general public at large? It might be pie in the sky, but I’m guessing that we’d garner more than a few great ideas, while engaging and inspiring a whole swath of disinterested civil servants. Just a thought.

Filed under: At Work, Real Writing, Technology

October 23, 2009 • 6:07 pm 3

A Tap Water Pilgrimage to Hetch Hetchy

(This post originally appeared in the SF Environment blog on SFgate.com/green just last week and is based on a true story.)

We’ve got great tap water here in San Francisco, but do you know where it comes from? What’s more, have you ever been there? After five years in the Bay Area, I finally had the chance to visit my tap water at its source in the Hetch Hetchy valley of the Sierra Nevada. My name is Lawrence Grodeska, and I’m the Internet Communications Coordinator at SF Environment, and this is the story of one man and his quest for connection with his water supply.

Early one Friday morning about a month ago, I left San Francisco with two friends for a weekend of backpacking. We drove due east for 4 hours and finally hit the trailhead at O’Shaughnessy Dam, the gateway to the Hetch Hetchy reservoir. At 312 feet, the dam itself does not have the impact of the Hoover Dam (726 feet!), but O’Shaughnessy’s story is the stuff of legend.

In 1913, from a proposal by then San Francisco Mayor James Phelan, and aided by lobbying efforts of national proponents of the development of natural resources, Congress passed the Raker Act. The Act granted SF “certain rights of way in, over and through certain public lands, the Yosemite National Park, and Stanislaus National Forest…and the public lands in the State of California, and for other purposes.”

Those “other purposes” boiled down to the rights to flood the Hetch Hetchy valley to create a water-and-power system for the City & County of San Francisco. Situated in a pristine canyon in the northwest of Yosemite, the steep canyon walls were ideal conditions for a reservoir. The Army Corps of Engineers built the O’Shaughnessy Dam over the span of 7 years, battling rugged terrain and harsh elements, as well as the strong protests of fabled conservationist John Muir, to complete the dam in 1923.

I had long been curious to see Hetch Hetchy, the source of the water that comes out of our San Francisco faucets so consistently and deliciously. Perhaps it was the curiously alluring name – apparently the Central Miwok word for a common edible grass in the valley. Or maybe the contentious issue of who should profit from the water system, or even the engineering feats necessary to deliver such a municipal gift across 190 miles. More than anything, however, being an urban dweller removed from the source of his sustenance, I considered a visit to my water supply a pilgrimage of sorts.

Finally stepping onto the O’Shaughnessy Dam that day, backpack and all, I could feel the collective effort that was harnessed to create this enduring tribute to humanity’s ingenuity and brash survival instincts. My three short days of exploring the upper reaches of my watershed paled in comparison to that herculean effort, but I felt proud to be getting in touch with my water, and very eager to trace that water upstream.

After our initial admiration subsided, we trekked through the dry, hot heat of late summer in the Sierra. Thanks to the Raker Act, we had to trek an extra mile! The Act established some strict criteria for the protection of San Francisco’s water supply which are followed to this day. “No person shall bathe, wash clothes or cooking utensils [in, or] any way pollute, the water within the limits of the Hetch Hetchy Reservoir…or in the streams leading thereto, within one mile of said reservoir.” Despite the impassioned pleas of park Rangers upon entering Yosemite, we met a few folks on the trail who were still incredulous about the strict nature of these provisions. Maybe they’ve never drank unfiltered San Francisco tap water, because I think that is all the justification necessary.

Camping at Las Rancheria Falls that night was quite a treat. The small meadow situated at 5000 feet elevation was a perfect spot for taking in the late summer stars so resplendent during the new moon. It may sound like a tall tale, but that weekend I saw the most spectacular shooting star I have ever seen. I even learned a few new constellations with my trusty star chart, including the king, Cepheus.

The biggest delight of all, however, was bearing witness to the hydrological cycle that brings San Franciscans their water every day. There is a foot bridge which crosses Rancheria Falls, above which swimming is finally permitted in a spectacular swimming hole, chiseled by eons of sediment flow. I lingered long at this spot, but being the intrepid explorer, I needed to push further. Bushwhacking over a ridge and dropping back into the river bed, I found a long string of smaller, serene pools and plenty of smooth, wide rocks for sun bathing.

I spent most of my Saturday lounging about the upper reaches of this tributary to the Hetch Hetchy reservoir, a welcome opportunity to divest myself from the cares and concerns of life in the city. Relaxing on the rocks, dipping in and out of the stream, letting the ripples of sound wash over me, I was gently reminded of why water has been called the “molecule of life”. The very biochemistry of life on planet Earth depends upon the unique features of the water molecule.

I’ve always felt drawn to bodies of water, from swimming holes and streams to lakes and oceans. Whatever the reasons for water’s magnetism – basic chemistry or simple soothing pull – I did have a different perspective of Hetch Hetchy as I descended back into the valley on Sunday. Taking in the whole of the reservoir, in all its splendor and conundrum, I was grateful to know a bit more about the water I depend on everyday. For all the controversy over whether the dam and reservoir should be there and who profits from it, San Franciscans could do a lot worse.

Filed under: Real Writing, San Francisco, Sustainability

March 3, 2009 • 11:40 am 0

My Transit Addiction

my fixie(This post originally appeared in the SF Environment blog on SFgate.com/green a few weeks back.  You may recognize some of it from a previous post, but, hey, who ever said repurposing was a bad thing?)

We’re friends, right?  So I’m just going to admit it, right here.  My name is Lawrence Grodeska, I’m the Internet Communications Coordinator at SF Environment, and I’m addicted to public transportation.  I ride transit indiscriminately – BART, MUNI, AC Transit, CalTrain, Bay Bridge bike shuttle, you name it.  And that’s not all.  I can’t stop riding my bicycle.  I have two and I’m dreaming of a third.  You know what else?  I don’t know if I should share this, but here goes – I walk all over the place.  Just me and my two legs, strolling around town, back and forth, to and fro.  So, why am I telling you all of this?  Well, you see, I don’t own a car.  Some might say this is actually my real problem, but I disagree.  The car-free life is the good life.

Full disclosure: I’ve had my fair share of cars.  Back in high school, my first car was a Ford hatchback, affectionately named the “Bitchin’ Escort” and lovingly detailed with many a sticker. My second car was more austere and could carry more gear – “Semi,” my somewhat futuristic Chevy Cavalier wagon. My third and last car was the first and only car I have ever truly loved – “Philly,” a 1985 Mercedes 300TD diesel beauty that guzzled vegetable oil. A tank-wagon with the pickup of a slug and the highway momentum of a cruiseship. I knew I loved that car the day I first parked in the driveway and vacuumed the interior, lovingly washed and buffed the exterior. Rarely have I felt so much pride in an inanimate object and never have I felt so much an American.

The first cracks in my automotive armor arose sometime during my second year of college when I was introduced to the concept of habitat fragmentation.  Our network of highways, byways, and rural routes has so interrupted the normal lifecycle patterns of many species of fish, birds, and animals that population levels have decreased dramatically. The argument against cars was framed for me once again when I came across a study comparing the energetic efficiency of walking to driving a car, an exercise in “true cost accounting“.  Given the cost in time, money, and energy required to power a vehicle, the study found that it was actually quicker to walk between points A and B than to drive. Specifics aside, I needed little convincing from that point on. I graduated with a B.S. in Biology and a strong desire to ditch my car.

That opportunity finally arose when I landed in San Francisco a few years back. As the dust on my windshield began piling up along with too many parking tickets, I knew that this was the time to embark on my carless existence. Charting out this new territory was fascinating – I encountered my own stages of automotive withdrawal. My first reaction to carlessness was elation. It has been said before by wiser persons that more possessions make for less time and less happiness. I consider automobiles the extreme embodiment of this idea. By letting go of the financial and psychological burdens associated with cars, fresh mental vistas opened up beyond the chattels of my prior car concerns. To this day I am thankful for one less constellation of stress in my life.

My second major reaction to carlessness was indignation. By virtue of more foot, pedal, and transit time, I grew increasingly aware of and shocked by the extent to which cars have dictated the physical structure of our society. Everything from the urban grid to the layout of property lots and shapes of buildings has catered to the overwhelming presence of autos. Moreover, I was offended to recognize just how much cars dictated my daily routine: walking home from BART, forced to navigate corners of 90 degrees after 90 degrees. Waiting in quiet frustration until the cross walk without a traffic light was clear of vehicles. Jumping away from cars screeching to halt to observe stop signs. These all took their toll.

When I started driving again, be it borrowing a friend’s car or a renting a ZipCar, the third stage of my automotive withdrawal set in. Quickly I realized how much I loathed the actual act of driving. The rushing to and fro. The frenetic conditions. The uncertainty about other drivers. I was able to see with great clarity how much anger and tension driving a motor vehicle created in my life. Consequently, I now question if driving is truly a “luxury.” Do the benefits of driving really outweigh the impact on our mental health? These days I am happy to let others occupy my former space on the roads while I try to cultivate a little more calm, a lot more compassion, and a few extra smiles from my fellow bikers, pedestrians, and transit riders.

Thankfully, San Francisco has myriad transit options for those of us ready to let go of our cars and experience the concomitant joy. With the right planning, the impressive regional network of rails, buses and ferries can get you to most places in the Bay Area, no problem. 511.org is your one-stop shop for all things transit – maps, trip planners, etc. Heck, even Google is getting into the game with their new Google Maps Transit Planner. Don’t forget to check NextMuni.com to find out exactly when your next transit chariot will arrive. San Francisco has mandated that companies that employ over 20 workers must have a commuter benefits plan, a great way to get to work with less stress and less strain on your bank account.

Lots of folks in our fair city are working very hard to provide the best public transportation system they can deliver, so take advantage of it. Transit is one of the great benefits of urban living. And who knows? You just might get addicted.

Filed under: Bikes, Real Writing, Transportation

April 6, 2007 • 3:09 am 0

Interview with Aaron Lehmer of Bay Localize

[Note: This interview was written for the October 2006 Urban Alliance for Sustainability Newsletter, available at www.uas.coop. Also, Bay Area Relocalize now goes by the name Bay Localize.]

Effective leaders in the growing movement for social and environmental change recognize the need for both experience and humility. Further, without personal resolve to ground professional commitment, even the best ideas and actions can ring all too hollow. Aaron Lehmer of Bay Area Relocalize exemplifies these disparate qualities and has used them to craft an impressive and inspiring record.

By resume alone, Aaron’s experience speaks volumes of his dedication to the sustainability movement. His tireless commitment has improved the operations of 5 organizations over the past decade, including: ReThink Paper, Earth Island Institute, Circle of Life, Post Carbon Institute and, most recently, Bay Area Relocalize, which he co-founded with peak oil and energy preparedness expert David Room. Given this latest project, Aaron chooses to frame his personal and professional life in terms of “relocalization” – the process through which a community reverts from ever-increasing dependence upon the global economic system back to local and regional networks of economic interdependency. And so it is not surprising that his personal life mirrors that of his professional life. In his words, he strives to “leave a light footprint low on food chain, drive only when absolutely necessary and cut down on daily consumption as much as possible”. He derives his inspiration for these efforts from both positive and negative sources: increasingly precarious dependence on fossil fuel resources on the dark side and historic opportunity to become a more cooperative, community-based society on the light.

Aaron is the consummate professional, bringing clarity and precision to his speech, his relationships and to his work, especially Bay Area Relocalize. BAR embraces “a vision of sustainable communities living within their means, provisioning themselves in close proximity to the natural environment upon which they depend.” The current alternative to this model is one of “extraction, market importation and the need to take control over other lands and people to sustain itself.” Aaron notes that this unfortunate situation has led to approximately 1/3 of the Bay Area being “food insecure.” In the next breath he points to the Alemany farm in San Francisco as a wonderful, shining example of efforts to change this model. And that is exactly the kind of work BAR is doing, “helping people develop their own skill-sets, ability, and power to create what we need locally.” This mission has manifested as three of their current projects: the Rooftop Resources Project, the Relocalization Asset Map, and the Localization Strategy Campaign in alliance with Redefining Progress, the International Forum on Globalization, the Business Alliance for Local Living Economies, and the Center for Sustainable Economy.

These efforts do not come without their challenges. Aaron feels that one of BAR’s biggest hurdles is portraying sustainability so that it does not seem like “drudgery, but instead as something to enter into with sense of joy and creativity.” He feels that is often difficult to really communicate the positive advantages of adopting a new, more sustainable lifestyle. Another challenge for BAR has been getting volunteers “engaged in ways that they feel invested.” As a solution, Aaron points to their welcoming, open door policy as being a huge part of their success and momentum. He also says that providing lots of food and drink also helps to make meetings feel like more of a social occasion.

These challenges fade in significance when Aaron thoughtfully cites a list of positive trends that he sees in the sustainability movement. Primary among them is the mainstreaming of the movement: “A growing number of both young and older people are getting engaged with the issue (local food and energy) and are coming at it from different angles.” The growing response of local politicians such as Nancy Nadel and Supervisors Mirkarimi, Daly and Maxwell in SF also seems to indicate an institutional shift towards a greener perspective. From what he sees, “some policy makers are starting to wake up.” Aaron also cites the connections being made between grassroots organizations and projects as being an “extremely positive trend.” In particular, he is excited about “newfound collaborations between social justice and traditionally environmentally focused ‘name it and save it’ organizations and campaigns.” He points to the Ella Baker Center for Human Rights as a local example of this integration of environmental and social justice communities.

When asked if there is one thing readers of this article could do tomorrow to embrace a more sustainable society, Aaron’s answer was short and sweet, yet formidable: “Get rid of your car.” Challenging though this advice may be, such a change can bring about great benefits both personally and globally. It is this connection of part to whole that makes Aaron’s work so poignant, professional and vital as we enact our visions for a better world.

Filed under: Real Writing, Sustainability

March 2, 2007 • 1:34 am 6

Yoga Be My Lady

[This piece was written for the Urban Alliance for Sustainability March 2007 Newsletter, available at www.uas.coop. I've been wanting to write this one for a few years, so enjoy!]

Yoga, be my lady. You are always there for me, and always here. When I am away, you welcome me back, with open eyes and flowing arms, without a word and nary a sound. During the noisy spans of your absence, I may not think of you, but secretly, subconsciously I long to be again aligned with your peace, your poise, your gentle grace. When I am with you, I am complete. I’ve never met anyone who knows me to my core and continues to give more and more, as only you can, as much as I am willing to accept, even when I’ve been away. Yoga, be my lady. Tonight, tomorrow, and every day hereafter.

Yes, you know me more than I know myself, yet I can grasp but a few of your eight-fold limbs. I call you Asana, the seat, or Pranayama, the vital life force. And I’ve flirted with you as Dhyana, contemplating truth and accepting nothing. Some know you as Yama, Yoga of abstentions, and still others as concentrated Dharana. Above all and permeating everything, you are Samadhi, the pure light of liberation, enlightened union of opposites.

Whether Asana or Pranayama or Dhyana, you bring new meaning to the mundane and light to the dark corners of habituation and sloth. Your Asana postures are no mere stretches or overly curious callisthenics — they bestow exertion sprinkled with exhilaration. Blood beating in my chest swells with air in my breast, lending a levity unparalleled by cardiovascular activity, leaving a smile radiating from the depths rather than on the lips. And when I arise in your presence, Dhyana, a simple sitting expands beyond plaster walls. Stone silence rings clear through dissolving mental chambers, healing the deep fissures of identity inherited from Mother Nature and Father Culture. My smile of depths basks in the understanding that there is so much more yet to accept from you, my mistress of inchoate Union.

Aware of your high ancient heritage, I am always honored by your presence, humbled by your attention. How many have you touched so intimately across the great divide of time and culture? How vast your wisdom accumulated? In spite of your munificence, you are always there for me, so long as I am ready to listen. You have navigated the waters of mind, body and emotion, transcended the chasm of desire and suffering, and delivered your pearly secrets to my front lobe, so long as I am willing to observe. Knowing your sacrifice, I, your devoted servant and ecstatic lover, pledge to listen and observe whenever I can cultivate the courage to join you. Being held in your bountiful gaze keeps me coming back, despite the distraction of calendars and commitments.

Lest my doting make you blush, fret not. I speak of myself when I utter your name, and through this, our union, I am me and not me. How am I not me? By absorbing you, by letting you in and breathing you out, I become more than I, more than LSG, more than son, brother, activist, friend, Earthling, lover, yet less, all the same. When we embrace, that dichotomous dualism fades into a blessed union of opposites. I am not me and you cease to be and molecules dance upon vibrations of breath, full and flowing into the same moment of meaning free from story and strife, tinged with joy and peace until you slip away and….

I come back to the mat, a stark contrast on the cushion, wondering when we shall meet again, though content with your deep radiant smile on my lips for the time being. Tonight maybe, tomorrow perhaps…the future definitely. Now, most hopefully.

Now. I need you, so stick with me, baby. Yoga, be my lady.

Read the rest of this entry »

Filed under: Et Cetera, Real Writing

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