I used to be able to walk from my house to Tubby’s Turnaround in less than three minutes. Now, it takes me almost 10 minutes.
This column isn’t about me and laziness. Well, I guess it is a little. (“Stop complaining about getting your steps in!” my wife says.)
But on another level, it’s about how the loss of Manitou’s social paths may represent a path we don’t want to take.
First, a bit more about my path to Tubby’s. It was on the side of a neighbor’s driveway, then through a gate in a fence, and finally down a grassy hill. About a decade ago, those neighbors decided to get rid of the gate and fence the whole thing, closing off my beloved shortcut to Tubby’s.
Their daughter and her family were living in the lower level of the house, and they didn’t want them to have to deal with strangers walking through the side of the backyard. Totally understandable.
The neighbors who took away the gate moved away, as did their daughter and her family, and we have fond memories of all of them. They were great neighbors.
But the gate thing got me thinking about this social path thing. My wife and I once took a magnificent trip to England. In fact, it was with our wonderful mayor and his wife (the ones I embarrassed in my last column by calling out their pickleball abilities.)
One of the highlights of that trip was hiking through the English countryside. The Brits call it “carrying on through the fields,” and basically it’s approved trespassing. You hike through some farmer’s pasture, come to a rock wall or wood fence with a little sign that says this way, step on a stile – steps that let you go over the wall or fence – and you’re on to the next pasture. The cows and sheep don’t mind.
In some parts of Texas, you’d be shot for doing this kind of thing. – Warren Epstein
It doesn’t escape me that in some parts of Texas, you’d be shot for doing this kind of thing.
But Manitou resembles England in its tolerance for social trails. We have dozens of them. Living in a mountain valley, these staircases and walkways make it so much easier to get to and from Manitou Avenue.
Some of these paths represent official easements, maintained by the city. Others are more informal.
“We have these pathways where people have crossed over private property for years and years, and as long as the property owner is OK with that, it’s fine,” said Manitou City Planner Fred Rollenhagen.
When I think back on that decision our former neighbors made to cut off that trail, there’s a word that strikes me: strangers. They didn’t want their daughter and her family to encounter strangers walking by their home.
For over a century, folks considered it their neighbors who were going through that gate. But things change. Maybe there are more strangers mixed in with those neighbors. Maybe some of those folks are pretty sketchy. Would I want my daughter having to deal with a regular pilgrimage through her yard?
But something about that word “stranger” makes me think about how we’ve demonized trick-or-treating (no pun intended.) Businesses, with the best of intentions, often advertise “safe trick-or-treating” in town. Their unsaid suggestion is that knocking on your neighbors’ doors might not be safe.
I’m not saying that our modern world doesn’t carry dangers. And I expect to hear some pushback stories about trust that was repaid with violence.
But it’s that trust that makes us a community, not just a town, not just a neighborhood. Communities invite people to “carry on through their field.” And I celebrate the many members of our community who continue to maintain social paths, and in some cases, actively invite trespassers.
A huge thanks goes out to a neighbor, Roger Treweeke, a former Manitou shop owner. He actually installed signs near his home that say, “Private property: All are welcome to walk through.”
I’ll think about folks like Roger during my next endless, 10-minute walk to Tubby’s.
