To the Editor:
The design for the waterfront, while subject to many interpretations, thoughts and reactions, has been unchanged almost since it was first conceived by the small group of self-appointed overseers who met clandestinely in 2006 to plot an invasion. In the vast spaces between the collective ears a hollow pinging grew in force as it radiated out into the peaceful calm of Old Town — the waterfront will save us!
From the start this small group’s sweaty vision was grandiose, inspired by the looming towers of National Harbor across the great river, named by the original settlers as Potomac, or “river of swans”; and while the swans have long since flown, the nearby vales of Mordor cast a immense clinking and ringing sound into the night air, as the souls and pockets of ordinary humans are drained dry to profit a few.
Gazing early at this seemingly profitable paradigm, the Overseers sought the Tourists. Their sightlines were clear, unobstructed by the realities of the unique landscape populated by a close knit community of diverse peoples dedicated to the place they call the Historic District. A place of kindness, knowledge, taste, charity, and walkability. The people know this has hallowed ground, and a birthplace of democracy, with its natural purity chosen by swans.
The Overseers’ grand vision mushroomed In the dark and seduced the worst and the semi-worst alike so that soon it was sanctified by putting it on paper and handing it to the select group of servants who Plan and Zone. They knew that the Old Towners’ waterfront was a treasured place. Engagement was necessary, but only with crossed fingers behind your back. After all, the servants had the Plan, and it was cast in concrete.
Advancing like the Hydra they marched, snipping the thoughts of the Old Towner’s down to little more than toothpicks on the carcass of the Beast. Under the guise of Change the phantom Tourists descended chanting a mantra of “hotels, restaurants, retail – mixed use – high density.” Seeking help, the memory of the swans flew off in search of The Planimeters; alchemists of note whose said instrument measured the true worth of Change.
The heroic Planimeters knew the mammoth effort before them, but guided by the wisdom of the Founders they set forth, going from house to house like Revere in the night, to raise a light on this Stygian darkness. And lo, they prevailed till met by the devious Planners, helped in their smoggery by the Magicians of Law and the Imperators of the Dais. So the long fight began, and the watery edges of the Old Towners beloved home grew even more imperiled.
And so it remains today, the faulty sight of a few, handed off to a small group of diggers now caught in a web of profit, taxmen, and tourists. The false prophets on the Dais can bow to Tourism, but for the sake of the Founders now weeping in Heaven, the people of Old Town will not abandon their fight!
Kathryn Papp, Alexandria