Robert Moses, the Middle-American Traditional Father
From no posts to a glut of posts, I know. It must be something in the water.
Reading the Times' article on the vanquishing of the light-industrial/arts uses from Williamsburg & Greenpoint in the face of the oncoming redevelopment plan, the following sentence caught my eye:
The last thing someone living in a luxury loft wants to hear is the
high-pitched shriek of buzz saws or rumble of delivery trucks that are part of
the daily rhythms for the area's industrial ancestors.
Quickly, the following thought crossed my mind: These people don't even know what they want. On the one hand, it's true, richfolk aren't going to be too pleased by rumbling trucks. But on the other hand, you tell them this is edgy TriBeCa style living, and the small annoyances are part of the price you pay for living in a "thriving artist community" and you can charge extra for the inconvenience of rumbling trucks.
But that puts me on a slippery slope, presuming to railroad my ideas over the city, claiming to know what others want for their own benefit. It simultaneously makes me resemble Robert Moses, who, above all, got projects done regardless of whether they were wanted, and traditional American fathers, who claim to always know what's best for their children. Strange combination.
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