Design for Aging

My parents are old—my father will be 93 next month and my mother turns 92 in June—and the time has come for them to sacrifice their independence. My father’s increasing frailty is the tipping point. He has been my mother’s primary caregiver (she has suffered from progressive dementia for several years) but his own infirmities and incipient cognitive decline have convinced him it’s in his and my mother’s best interest for the two of them to transition to life in an assisted living facility.

He has stubbornly resisted this day and its inevitability for as long as possible. It’s not because my parents haven’t already accepted change in their lives. They moved about a decade ago from their large house in Vancouver, B.C. to the small apartment they live in now. My father forfeited his driver’s license shortly after that move, and with it a significant measure of mobility and personal freedom. My siblings have provided them with the considerable assistance they need, including driving them to medical appointments, running errands, grocery shopping, keeping their apartment clean, and more (I owe them so much gratitude for all they do). What my father hasn’t accepted until now is relinquishing the last vestiges of personal control and freedom he still enjoyed.

My family is in the process of identifying where and what living arrangement will be best for my parents. Because I’m an architect, I naturally think about the characteristics and quality of the setting they will move to and most likely spend their remaining years. I want my mother and father to be comfortable, cared for, and able to enjoy life as much as they can.

Assisted living facilities are a choice for seniors like my parents who are no longer capable of living alone. They typically emphasize providing familiar, comfortable, homelike settings for their residents. They help with daily living activities (bathing, dressing eating, toileting, etc.), provide central dining programs, include emergency call systems in private and common areas, assist with or provide local transportation arrangements, and offer organized educational, recreational, and exercise activities. Most assisted living facilities also contract with skilled nursing care and hospice providers. The quality of care and the residential environments vary considerably from facility to facility. A trait common to many of the best assisted living communities is a superior level of design.

The biggest difference between assisted living communities and nursing homes is the extent of medical services provided. Nursing home residents require around-the-clock skilled medical care and monitoring. The trend in nursing home design over the past couple decades has been away from hospital-like facilities toward resident-centered household models. In addition to meeting the needs of the patients rather than those of the institution, the designs of nursing homes increasingly focus upon providing a high quality of living and downplay an overly sterile or institutional appearance. In this respect, the design of assisted living facilities and nursing homes is converging.

While Robertson/Sherwood/Architects cannot claim a large portfolio of residential-care projects for the elderly, I did serve as the project manager and principal designer for a new “protective care unit” serving Alzheimer’s and dementia patients at the Veterans Affairs MedicalCenter in Roseburg, Oregon. In keeping with the shift toward homelike environments, the VA’s charge to my office was to focus our programming and design efforts on the quality of life to be provided to the patients rather than upon achieving machine-like efficiency and maximum staff convenience. Accordingly, our design manifests the transition toward a resident-centered model of care. Despite their afflictions, we employed strategies intended to increase the residents’ autonomy and sense of control. These comprised designing quiet, smaller spaces (even for group settings), including abundant daylight and orienting views to the surroundings, selecting comforting colors and finishes, and providing easy and supportive wayfinding.  

Interior of the Protective Care Unit, VA Medical Center, Roseburg (design by Robertson/Sherwood/Architects)

The bottom line is design can make a difference in the quality of life residents enjoy. Accordingly, architects have a huge role to play in ensuring the well-being of the most elderly and vulnerable within the communities we serve. As our population increasingly ages, the need for supportive, healthful options for housing seniors who require ongoing help with living is becoming correspondingly acute. Furthermore, the elevated susceptibility of older people to COVID-19 has heightened the need for design adaptations that ensure the comfort and safety of residents. I expect architects will develop strategies for safely connecting residents and maintaining healthful bonds with prospective visitors, family, and friends. Future assisted living facilities and nursing homes will incorporate means to mitigate the loneliness and isolation of the types wrought by the current pandemic.

Despite the best efforts of everyone involved in the design of long-term care facilities, the bottom line is the residents are effectively prisoners of circumstances beyond their entire control. They are, in many respects, disconnected from the greater community. My fear is my father will feel isolated and marginalized, regardless of where he and my mother land. Good architecture can alleviate anxiety and increase comfort, but it can only do so much to overcome the loss of autonomy and dignity that frequently accompanies the ravages of advanced age, and good architecture cannot stand in for the supportive attention and respect only family, friends, and caregivers can provide.   

Has COVID-19 Really Changed the Future of the Office?

Photo by Maxime on Unsplash

Notwithstanding the current uncertainties surrounding the rollout of the coronavirus vaccines and their slower-than-expected distribution, employers fortunate enough to have sustained their businesses during the pandemic are eyeing the future with a cautious optimism. For many companies whose primary working environment is the office, this optimism has been accompanied by reconsideration of the role of the traditional workplace. Has COVID-19 really changed the future of the office? Will we return to business as usual or has the pandemic pushed us past a tipping point that futurists have long predicted, one wherein the shared workplace becomes radically unlike what we’ve known before?

My firm has yet to confront these issues directly, but we will undoubtedly do so in the coming months. Most of our staff have been working from home since the enactment of the State-mandated workplace restrictions. I can’t claim to be speaking on behalf of my coworkers regarding how they’ve fared on a personal level since last March, but I do believe there has been little if any drop-off in our ability to serve our clients. I know I’ve been as productive as ever and probably more focused while working remotely when compared to my ability to perform while in the office. For me at least, remote work is effective and attractive for several reasons.

Foremost for me is my increased productivity and performance. Interruptions are fewer. For better or worse, I don’t engage in as many spur-of-the-moment meetings, and the video conferences I do participate in tend to be more focused and efficient. My workspace here at home is a separate room, so quiet is easy to come by. And as I mentioned previously, my VPN connection to the Robertson/Sherwood/Architects server and my new desktop workstation in the RSA office works well. I’ve added improvements here at home, including my powerful Lenovo Thinkpad laptop and the LED panel light (for video conferencing) I recently purchased. I still need a new, more ergonomic chair, but overall my home setup has served me very well.

Another benefit is the opportunity to interact with my wife throughout the day. She’s retired but busies herself with her hobbies. Before COVID, I typically would run home for lunch each day to spend time with her, but that always seemed rushed. We can now chat spontaneously whenever I get up for a break to stretch and give my eyes a rest. If good weather favors us and the mood strikes, we can choose to go for a walk together in the neighborhood for some exercise. Such opportunities didn’t exist when I spent my all-too-frequent ten-plus hours of the day at the office. Work and life are in better balance now, thanks to the flexibility working from home affords.

Working from home also means not wasting time commuting to our office downtown. Granted, my commute is/was quick by most measures, being only 2.5 miles or about ten minutes long with traffic each way. Regardless, that meant commuting consumed forty minutes of each workday, including the time I would drive to home and back for lunch. Additionally, the necessity of social distancing has strictly limited the number of face-to-face meetings with clients or contractors—these are now mostly confined to project site visits—further reducing the amount of my time behind the wheel and the wear and tear on my car, not to mention my contributions to greenhouse gas emissions. (1)

The most obvious shortcoming of the current situation is the toll it takes upon camaraderie and our feeling of being a cohesive team. Ensuring our collaborative work culture remains strong and intact is thus a priority. Whether we’re adequately addressing this need is an open question. Teamwork and collaboration are essential to the practice of architecture, as are spontaneous interactions and impromptu conversations.

The problem is particularly acute when it comes to onboarding a new employee, especially if he or she is relatively new to the profession. We brought on a new hire last fall, and she’s been a quick learner and great to work with. We do owe it to her to do everything we can to nurture her sense of belonging with Robertson/Sherwood/Architects. It’s in our best interest to check in with her regularly and provide continuing and regular opportunities for her to learn from the experience of everyone on our team.     

Sometime later this year after administration of vaccinations is widespread and the worst of the pandemic is behind us, working remotely will transition from being a necessity to a choice. Many companies may be eager to get their employees back on-site full-time, but many others may consider the possibility of shifting to a new hybrid model combining in-person and at-home work. According to a Gallup poll from last October, two-thirds of U.S. workers who have been working remotely during the pandemic would like to continue to do so. Of this number, 35% simply prefer working from home, regardless of the presence of a deadly virus. The new normal post-COVID will likely be one in which many employees will enjoy at least some flexibility with their work arrangements.

Conference Room design, post-COVID; click to enlarge (image from Steelcase.com)

A shift toward such flexibility has significant implications for the future of commercial offices. Initially, I believed these would include a lessened demand for new office space and cancellation of some projects currently in the pipeline because businesses envision staff continuing to work from home, even if only part-time. I imagined hot-desking and hoteling strategies wherein employees are not permanently assigned workstations or private offices gaining traction. Having since read several recent articles on the topic of the post-COVID-19 workplace, I now am of the opinion the need for central workplaces will not disappear anytime soon. Why? Even if fewer staff return to the office full-time, they will be spaced farther apart in response to what we now know about how infections are spread. So, a smaller number of employees may still occupy the same amount of space or require even more to maintain a safe personal distance.

As for the design of new office buildings, they are likely to incorporate wider corridors, advanced air filtration systems, an increased reliance on natural ventilation, occupancy maximums on elevators, touchless controls, and directional signage within common areas and office spaces.  

Though the demand for office space may not lessen, the reduced workday population in our cities will adversely impact the businesses that provide office workers with convenient goods and services, notably nearby restaurants and food carts. I can’t predict the other long-term implications, but I suspect the shakeout will not end simply with the retreat of the coronavirus.

Robertson/Sherwood/Architects’ current office space is long and narrow, and our workstations are adequately separated so we can maintain social distancing. We can also open windows to invite fresh air though our suite, and the majority of our “high-touch” surfaces can easily be sanitized. We have entertained the idea of finding ourselves a new office, one which showcases our design sensibility and cranks up our abilities a notch. If we do eventually move (or remodel our existing space), we’ll certainly think in terms of how the way we work is evolving and implement post-COVD measures that underscore the importance of feeling healthy and safe. Crucially, I expect we would focus on creating an office environment that reflects who we are. In this respect, our office would serve first and foremost as our cultural hub, essential to instilling a shared sense of identity. As our firm transitions to a new generation of leadership, clearing defining that identity will be critical.  

Despite the fact many of us enjoy working from home, the bottom line is we do also miss seeing each other in the office. As this linked article from Steelcase puts it so aptly, we miss “the intrinsic human experience of working together—face-to-face—in spaces that were designed specifically to foster the creativity, agility, and innovation that organizations need to be truly productive and grow.”

COVID-19 has been our wakeup call; we’re shaken by the realization that future pandemics are inevitable. The lesson we have learned is their deadly toll may be kept in check if we obey science and implement sound principles aimed at controlling the spread of pathogens. The pandemic has accelerated the evolution of our places of work toward a new paradigm. By separating us, COVID-19 has ironically compelled us to think deeply about why teamwork is so important. Coming together in the workplace to socialize and collaborate is the greatest purpose our shared offices fulfill.

(1)    According to numerous sources, the dramatic reduction in vehicle trips upon enactment of the lockdowns and shelter-in-place orders resulted in markedly reduced levels of air pollution attributable to a reduction in workers commuting (here’s a CNN report from last April). Since then, pollution has surged as cities around the world push to reopen even in the face of new, more virulent strains of the virus.

Le Corbusier: The Built Work

My library of books on architecture continues to grow. I recently purchased four new titles, taking advantage of a couple of Amazon gift cards I received for Christmas:

• Architecture Depends (by Jeremy Till)
• Compression (by Steven Holl)
• Thinking Architecture (by Peter Zumthor)
• LeCorbusier: The Built Work (by Richard Pare and Jean-Louis Cohen)

I’ll probably defer reading Architecture Depends and/or Thinking Architecture until my next trip north to Canada (post-COVID) when I’ll enjoy hours of uninterrupted reading time riding the Amtrak Cascades. Compression is essentially the latest in a series of monographs on the work by Steven Holl Architects, suitable for digesting in small bites, project by project.

My review of Le Corbusier: The Built Work is the subject of this week’s blog post. Weighing in at over eight pounds and 480 heavy pages, the hefty hard-bound volume is a coffee table monster. I had eyed the book ever since its initial publication back in 2018, but the $70 price tag deterred me from purchasing it until now. I’m happy to report the wait was worth it. The book is truly impressive. As described by Amazon, it stands as “the most thoroughgoing survey of nearly all of Le Corbusier’s extant projects, beautifully photographed and authoritatively detailed” and is “a groundbreaking opportunity to appreciate the master’s work anew.”

There are several reasons for my enthusiasm.

Firstly, The Built Work includes numerous projects I was entirely unfamiliar with. I considered myself to be enough of an architectural scholar to thoroughly know the extent of Corb’s oeuvre, so I was pleasantly surprised to find otherwise immediately upon opening the volume. The Villa Stotzer, Villa Favre-Jacot, Villa Le Lac, Maisons Lipschitz et Miestschaninoff, Villa Le Sextant, the Schools of Art and Architecture in Chandigarh, and several others were new to me. Each of these projects helps to fill and enrich my understanding of the evolution of Le Corbusier’s work, from his early days in La Chaux-de-Fonds through his later, mature years on the world stage. I was likewise surprised to learn from the book that while he is credited with the design of approximately 400 projects, only seventy-five were actually ever realized. Impressively, the Built Work documents most of those that remain standing today.

Secondly, Richard Pare’s photography is at once lavish and voyeuristically uncompromising in its depiction of the current appearance of the projects. Several suffer the depravations of time and neglect, which Pare’s images make no effort to conceal. All the photos are in full color, so they are absent the interpretive abstraction characteristic of the many black & white depictions of Le Corbusier’s architecture we are largely familiar with. In this sense, Pare avoided an editorial or artistic stance, adopting instead the role of an objective photojournalist. Overall, the shots are composed handsomely and consistently well-lit (using, it appears, only natural light or that available from actual fixtures within the spaces). They are the best thing we have next to seeing the buildings firsthand.

Lastly, the sheer quantity and thoroughness of the photo documentation are without parallel. Even for the projects I thought I knew well, many of the perspectives used by Pare are ones I had never seen before. For example, his photographs of Notre Dame du Haut at Ronchamp include several that were not among the classic views shot by the masterful Ezra Stoller shortly after the enigmatic chapel’s completion in 1955. Pare’s new photos have undoubtedly become essential resources for anyone dedicated to the study of Le Corbusier’s built legacy.   

Camping Units, Sentier Le Corbusier, Roquebrune-Cap-Martin (photo by Richard Pare)

If the book has a flaw, it may be its sheer bulk. I cradle it with care when I pick it up as I fear it otherwise might tear itself apart under the force of its own weight.

I own several books on and by Le Corbusier; regardless, this latest addition to my collection presents an ineffable sensuality and richness I didn’t realize was missing in the depictions of his work in those other volumes. While many today justifiably revile him for being one of the principal authors of Modernism’s manifest failings and excesses, Le Corbusier: The Built Work presents the depth, breadth, and genius of an undeniably original and virtuoso portfolio.  

A Symbol of Democracy

The US Capitol under siege - January 6, 2021 (photo by Tyler Merbler from USA, CC BY 2.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0>, via Wikimedia Commons)

The images this past Wednesday of violent insurrectionists storming the United States Capitol in a misguided attempt to overturn the results of the 2020 presidential election shocked the nation. Those stunning images betrayed how fragile the foundations of the country’s democratic ideals truly are, and how important it is to protect and preserve them. That the events occurred around and within the Capitol building—a literal symbol of democracy—only served to amplify the seriousness of the threat posed by those who seek to destroy the republic. 

In the wake of Wednesday’s violent protest, some pundits and scholars are beginning to assess its impact upon the nation’s psyche from the perspective of how we interpret the attack on what the Capitol’s architecture represents. The grand building is among the most recognizable in America. Its architects (first William Thornton, and later Benjamin Henry Latrobe, Charles Bulfinch, Thomas U. Walter, and others) expressly intended its forms to be symbolic vehicles of content—in plan, elevation, and ornamentation. For example, the Capitol building’s two wings—one for the House of Representatives and one for the Senate—flank the massive central dome and characterize their equality as partners in the legislative process. The dome itself is an ancient representation of the “female principle,” metaphorically the womb, but also of the sky and heavens above. In the context of the Capitol building, we may additionally interpret the dome as a symbol of unity and divinely granted absolute power. Moreover, the building is iconic by virtue of its dominance over the city’s skyline, and also because of its strategic siting at what once was the geometric center of Washington DC. 

Robert Stribley, an immigrant from Australia now living and working as a writer in Brooklyn, NY penned a piece for Medium.com denouncing the assault on the US Capitol and the awful symbolism of the event. I wish I could write as forcefully. Here’s an excerpt: 

Like the various chambers of government worldwide, the Capitol represents a great achievement in this evolution of human cooperation. It’s the seat of the legislative branch of our federal government. It’s where our various elected officials come together and argue on our behalf, despite their diverse differences and sometimes even reach agreements. And whatever the flaws of this process in this venue, it’s the best we’ve been able to do so far. As Winston Churchill said, “No one pretends that democracy is perfect or all-wise. Indeed, it has been said that democracy is the worst form of Government except for all those other forms that have been tried from time to time.”

Because those who fell upon the Capitol had no real arguments or evidence to present—only misinformation and conspiracy theories and repeatedly debunked claims of fraud—they fell upon the old ways. Violence. Destruction and theft of property. Attacking the press and destroying their equipment. Assaulting the police. Placing pipe bombs. Beating one officer to death with a fire extinguisher. Even pissing and defecating on the Capitol itself. As a secular human being, I hesitate to reach for the religiously loaded word “desecration,” but that’s what their actions amounted to. They violated the symbolic sanctity of the Capitol. Because however faulty, ugly, and awkward our government can be, that building does symbolize our fumbling efforts to resolve our many differences in a relatively civilized fashion and to move on. To progress.

Employing architecture and its power to convey meaning is far from unique to the US Capitol building. Other nations have likewise leveraged the architecture of their seats of government to communicate the aspirations of the institutions. Two noteworthy examples are the Canadian Parliament Buildings and the Australian Parliament House. These two serve to illustrate how broad the range of stylistic expression can be while in pursuit of many of the same symbolic ends. In the instance of the Canadian Parliament, this expression is in the form of Gothic Revival (in the tradition of the Palace of Westminster in London), whereas its Australian counterpart—designed by the American/Australian consortium of Mitchell/Giurgola & Thorp and completed in 1988—adopted a thoroughly contemporary idiom. Despite their disparate styles, and in much the same way as the US Capitol, both complexes possess a diagrammatic clarity in plan and section entirely rooted in the symbolism of democracy. 

 

Parliament Hill, Ottawa - (photo by tsaiproject from Canada, CC BY 2.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0>, via Wikimedia Commons)

 

Australian Parliament House (photo by CSIRO, CC BY 3.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0>, via Wikimedia Commons)

Also like the US Capitol building, the Canadian Parliament can unfortunately point to its own notable instances of being victimized by those inclined toward extremist terrorism and violence, including a bombing in 1966 and a series of shootings in 2014. As with Wednesday’s event in Washington, the experiences on Parliament Hill in Ottawa simultaneously demonstrated the vulnerability of the symbols of democracy to acts of terrorism and the resiliency of Canada’s parliamentary system. The Canadian government responded with measures to help prevent similar future attacks, but they did not fundamentally alter the substance and symbolism of the architecture of the Parliament Buildings.

Will we see dramatic changes to the US Capitol building in the aftermath of the wannabe dictator’s botched coup d'état? Hopefully no, not overtly at least. Having visited the Capitol on two occasions myself, I would find it regrettable if the seditious acts of a deplorable few compels security officials to radically alter how visitors can experience and appreciate its architecture and the messages it conveys.

Whether consciously or not, we expect our important architecture to speak to us in meaningful ways. This is particularly true for the buildings intended to serve and represent the best of the human condition and our most important institutions. This is why seeing the US Capitol being defiled by rioters was profoundly disturbing. The extent to which our treasured symbols endure and withstand the efforts of those who wish to undo the institutions that bind our society is important. Architecture matters for this and so many other reasons.(1)  

 

(1)    The Capitol is an important symbol of democracy. But according to an article in the LA Times, it's a complicated one — "the people's house" was built by slaves and designed, in countless ways, to erase their presence afterward.

 

A New Year’s Resolution

Photo by Max Aduyavnukosoi on Unsplash

With every turn of the calendar to a new year, people resolve to improve themselves by setting high, sometimes unattainable, expectations. I’ve mostly given up making resolutions because I inevitably fail to keep them. 2021 may be different though: I seriously hope to pull my bicycle out of the garage and ride it on a regular basis. If I keep my resolution, I’ll be doing both myself and our planet a favor by getting physical exercise and minimizing my carbon footprint.

We’re all familiar with the reasons why bike-riding is undeniably a good thing. Like I said, it will be beneficial if I exercise more, as opposed to sitting behind the wheel in traffic or being sedentary at home, and the impact of cycling on the environment is negligible. Additionally, as more people ride their bikes to work or to conduct errands, the less wear & tear and traffic congestion there is on our roads, not to mention the reduced need for somewhere to park as many cars. Surface parking lots truly are the bane of our urban environments.

Justifiable fears of contracting COVID-19 have prompted many to avoid public transport. Consequently, following a marked initial drop in the number of motor vehicles that accompanied the initial lockdowns last March, car use has recovered much faster than mass transit has. If this trend persists, communities will need to rethink how they respond to calls for diverting expenditures away from the infrastructure required for buses, streetcars, and light rail systems. Ideally, the alternative will not be a default to an increased reliance upon space-hogging, polluting, and dangerous private vehicles carrying only the driver and perhaps a single passenger. The pandemic has presented us with a moment of reckoning and a mandate to rethink our urban futures. This has included the realization that hybrid work models in which many telecommute from their homes and only spend a limited amount of time in the office are viable. The new normal will need to be one wherein public transit is strategically reinvented in innovative ways (acknowledging changes that may be permanent) so that our city cores remain vibrant and attractive destinations, all while discouraging resource-wasteful sprawl. The reset may follow the lines advocated by Jarrett Walker, who favors frequency & reliability of public transit, density, and walkability.

Conversely, COVID-19 has proven a boon for cycling. Social distancing—which favors bicycle commuting as an alternative to public transit—is likely to endure for the foreseeable future, even after vaccinations are widely available. If more people continue to use their bikes for getting around, there may be greater support in the years ahead for increased investments in infrastructure for walking and biking, including safe and attractive bike lanes and bikeways; however, as with how we must strategically rethink the future of public transit, we will need to reassess and reprioritize the nature of these investments if the increased usage of bicycles is to retain its momentum.

Many consider Eugene to already be a bicycle-friendly city. Indeed, the League of American Bicyclists certified Eugene (and Springfield) as a Gold-level Bicycle Friendly Community, while ranking #3 in the nation in PeopleForBikes annual city ratings. These organizations measure such factors as how well a city’s bike network connects people to everyday destinations, and how many people are riding their bikes in a city, both for recreation and transportation. Eugene boasts a bicycle-friendly infrastructure currently comprised of the following:

• 46 miles of shared-use paths 
• 187 miles of on-street bicycle lanes 
• 71 miles of signed bikeways/neighborhood greenways 
• 5 bicycle-pedestrian bridges over the Willamette River 
• 2 bicycle-pedestrian bridges over major roads/highways 

The transportation component of the Eugene-Springfield Metropolitan Area General Plan—known as TransPlan—addresses the needs of cyclists as part of its periodic and comprehensive assessment of regional transportation needs. TransPlan does identify numerous proposed improvements to the metro area’s bikeway system, including creation of bikeways on key arterial and collector streets and connections to new developments. A primary goal is to develop programs that encourage people to shift from driving to walking and biking for short trips. Approximately 51% of car trips in Eugene are less than 3 miles and 16% are less than 1 mile. Trips of these distances are potential walking and biking trips. Shifting from motor vehicle use to walking and biking can help the community address obesity and related health problems, decrease carbon emissions, reduce congestion on our roads, and further efforts toward sustainability.

A notable, recently completed bike-friendly facility in Eugene is the new two-way protected bikeway on 13^th Avenue between Lincoln Street and Alder Street. A protected bike lane of this type—sometimes referred to as a “cycle track”—is an exclusive bicycle resource adjacent to, but separated from, the roadway. Separation is generally achieved using planters, parked cars, curbs, or posts to separate people biking from motor vehicles. A protected bike lane provides a logical extension of a shared use path because it separates and helps protect cyclists from cars and trucks. 

Still from City of Eugene video: https://www.eugene-or.gov/3742/13th-Avenue-Bikeway

Despite the League of American Bicyclists and PeopleForBikes accolades, my own anecdotal observations suggest Eugene has a long way to go to be the equal of, say, Copenhagen or Amsterdam. Yes, most North American cities fundamentally differ in both structural and cultural terms from their European counterparts, but it isn’t unreasonable to think we can do much more to enhance the efficiency and practicality of cycling as a reliable urban mobility solution.

A case in point is the city where I was born and raised: Vancouver, Canada. According to the latest edition of the biannual Copenhagenize Index—the most comprehensive and holistic ranking of the 20-most bicycle-friendly cities in the world—Vancouver ties with Montreal as the only North American entrants on the list. Vancouver embarked on a spree of bikeway construction in recent years, the scope of which many might find unimaginable in a comparable U.S. city. On major transportation routes into, around, and through Vancouver’s downtown core, the new bikeways consist of separated/protected paths (similar to the new 13^th Avenue cycle track here in Eugene) necessitating the removal of entire traffic lanes and parking strips. When COVID-19 first cast its pall early last spring, the City of Vancouver responded by immediately creating additional ad hoc bikeways, in some instances closing entire streets to motorized traffic. Some of these changes are now permanent, further enhancing the breadth of Vancouver’s cycling infrastructure.  

It hasn’t all been peaches and cream for Vancouver’s cycling advocates. Opponents initially argued that bikeways increase traffic congestion by removing road space for motor vehicles. The opposite is proving true since more traffic lanes simply would have induced demand by encouraging more people to drive. The opponents also claimed bike lanes are bad for business because creating them often necessitates losing curbside parking; however, the investments are proving more than worth it as studies demonstrate that shop owners tend to overestimate the proportion of customers who arrive by car, and that bike riders make more visits to stores each month and thus spend more on average than those who drive to their destinations. The City of Eugene is undoubtedly contending with its own share of opposition to the expansion of its network of bikeways. Greater awareness of the lessons learned by other cities will help garner increased support for the city’s efforts.

I don’t know where Eugene would place on the Copenhagenize Index if it was enlarged to list many more cities. Despite Eugene’s high ranking when compared with other U.S. municipalities, I suspect we wouldn’t come close to sniffing the tier immediately below the world's top twenty bicycle-friendly communities. Nevertheless, Eugene can aspire to become the best possible city for bicycles it can be.

As a species, a resolution to do what we can to mitigate runaway climate change is no longer enough. Doing so is a moral imperative. Choosing to not follow this imperative is a refusal to think about the problem and what we can do to minimize its most harmful effects. On another front, COVID-19 has disrupted our lives and reshaped our city in many ways, but it should have also opened our eyes. It has helped to change our perception of walking and biking, so perhaps there is a positive takeaway. Bicycling is something many of us can do that is part of the solution, a long-term change that can survive long after the current crisis subsides.