Growing up, I always had a tendency
to feel empathetic toward inanimate objects. Even if I grew out of clothes or
didn’t hated them and never wore them, I wouldn’t want to give them away
because it felt like abandonment (I still struggle with this from time to
time). I would also create rotations to allow my stuffed animals to take turns
sitting on my bed so that none of them would feel left out. As I’ve gotten
older, these sentiments have become more centered on the people, plants and
animals around. Thankfully we have moved on from rejected toys to actual living
things.
Until a few
days ago, this instinct hadn’t caused me too much inner turmoil. However, I was
reminded during our visit to the DEC/APA how difficult it can be when two
equally strong sides calling for help come into conflict, especially when
helping one cause will directly harm the other. If I were the one classifying
state land in the Adirondack Park, my initial reaction would always be to put
any parcel as far out of harm’s way as possible. In other words, in the
“wilderness” category. That being said, that was all thrown into question when I
thought about the desperate families whose towns are in need of economic
stimulation just to stay afloat. Are there a few acres to spare so that a group
of struggling people can feed themselves? How many is a few? I certainly don’t
have an answer, and perhaps there isn’t just one, but some would argue that
that’s what this park is all about.
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