Even a Gas Station Can Be a Place

On the corner of Mt. Vernon and Braddock, on the edge of DelRay, Alexandria is Yates Automotive Services, which has been in business since 1964. It has the standard gas pumps and signs that initially suggest the cookie-cutter sameness of suburbia, but upon closer inspection, it's clear that Yates strives to be a unique, integral part of the neighborhood and is a strong believer in Place.

The little station keeps its lot meticulously landscaped. Its windows shine and its employees are spotless in their uniforms. And every holiday season, DelRay can count on Yates to be in the spirit; the station has reindeer on the roof in December, great shiny hearts in its window in February, and gravestones in its bushes in October. This obvious care and attention to detail goes far in earning the company local business. Says one customer, "I initially selected Yates because of the Christmas lights and decorations 25 years ago when I first moved here. I looked closer and saw the detail to the exterior maintenance and the cleanliness of the station. I figured that anyone who takes that amount of effort in being a good neighbor probably pays the same level of attention to its work."

I can't help but think that Yates has been around since 1964 because it obviously values the importance of place. Unlike many other similar establishments, it is not a business which feels temporary, transient, and disconnected. Rather it is nested in a community, hires local people, keeps them for decades, and contributes to the local community in small and not-so-small ways. It's also a pretty, little place that exudes pride. It's the only gas station I've ever been able to say that about. Photo courtesy of Eridony

Poetry Fence

One of our Del Ray neighbors created something only possible in a real Place.

On their fence, along the sidewalk where we ride bikes, jog, walk dogs, and push strollers, they've tacked up their favorite poems. Passersby are invited to pause for a moment to read something beautiful, and if they are so inclined, write a comment underneath with a pen hanging from a string. It's a concept like facebook, but somehow the shady trees, the smell of garden tomatoes, and the folksy hand-written comments make all the difference. I find myself going out of my way to stop by as the poetry varies by the season, the suggestions of neighbors, and the whim of the fence owner.

It's the kind of care and attention to detail that has made Del Ray the special place that it is.

Snowstorms and Walkable Communities

Yesterday we had another huge snow storm in the DC area, but unlike most people, my husband and I were not snow-bound and unable to get to work. Why? Because we live, during the work week, in the walkable community of DelRay, where with a good pair of snow boots, we can get to the grocery store, the coffee shop, and our offices in a matter of minutes.

The wind blasted in 40mph gusts and we had nearly three feet of snow on the ground, yet we still managed to walk the few blocks to work, have lunch in the local cafe, and grab a chai tea mid afternoon in the coffee shop. It was a good day.

My suburban friends weren't so lucky. Anyone who had to drive a car to get anywhere was just simply stuck, and the Federal Government, who must consider the thousands of geographically-dispersed commuters on snow-clogged roads, has been closed for the last four days. With the massive numbers of roads and sidestreets created by our low-density, sprawling building practices, it will be days before many are dug out and able to go anywhere.

I wonder how much easier and less costly it would be to get the City going again if we didn't have the endless miles and miles of sprawl to clear, and if more people lived where they could walk to work. As things are, we have become increasingly dependent upon our increasingly-strapped Government to dig us out and save us from the storm.

What Do You Value?

People often express to me that they'd like to live close to where they work, but simply don't see it as a possibility. The only realistic living option, in their minds, are those far-flung subdivisions with the big houses and the grand lawns. The nicer houses close to their work are often too expensive they argue. The question I always ask them is: What do you value more? A big house or time and community?

Most people, if they answer honestly, put much more value on that big house. I've seen people buy their dream house in a distant suburb believing it to be better for their children, yet they spend three hours on the road each day and are so exhausted at night and on weekends, that time with their children is a chore. Ultimately, though often unconsciously, they're sacrificing a great deal for that big house, because it represents in their mind achievement of the American Dream.

My husband and I were certainly tempted by those spanking-new suburban houses and the developer incentives that went along with them. But when we calculated our car time and lawn-cutting time, we chose to go, for our first home, with a small townhouse in DelRay. From DelRay, we could take the Metro anywhere in the City, and later, we decided to start our business there, first in our basement and then later in an old building we renovated on Mt. Vernon Avenue. We still own this small place, and though we bought another house in a country community years later, we still stay in this small DelRay townhouse during the work week.

These were conscious choices, most of them made when we had almost no money. It wasn't easy. I remember spending many weekends looking at possible neighborhoods and so many run-down houses, the only thing we could afford inside the beltway. DelRay was a little rough around the edges at first, an old railroad community that had seen its heyday years before, but through the conscious focus of many people like us, it became truly vibrant again, a real place where children play on grassy lawns, where neighbors chat over the fence, and many walk to work. I think if we're all willing to do with a little less, we can consciously create a whole lot more.
Photo courtesy of hyperial

Place Mixes It Up

When we visited Peru in April, we remarked on how vibrant Cuzco felt. Though the enchanted smells, the colorful clothing, and the adobe architecture contributed to this vibrancy, we determined it came primarily from the diversity. Babies, old people, llamas, dogs, tourists, school children, wealthy and poor, bicycles, cars, pedestrians, houses, churches and cafes, everyone and everything were mixed together in a lively hodge podge of activity and texture that created real Place.

It was such a startling contrast to the many No Places in the United States where there is tidy, compartmentalization between everything. Business districts separated from houses, old from young, schools from the community, rich from poor . . .

Some of the Places that I love most in the United States -- DelRay, Alexandria, VA, Old Town Winchester VA, and numerous places like them -- mix things up. People walk past shops and businesses with baby carriages. Retirees eat lunch at cafes and chat with children and people in suits. Couples live above shops and walk to the library and the post office. There's a feeling of vitality in these places that has been eradicated from the suburbs where there is no diversity in age, race, use, or social economic status.

Ironic how sprawl diminishes the important lines between towns and countryside, yet separates with knife-like precision the people who live there.

Collaborative Spaces

This fall to encourage our employees to actively collaborate, we built the Idea Factory. Our folks had gotten into the habit of working alone behind glass doors, so to encourage them to hold brainstorming sessions, kick-off meetings, and idea exchange, we turned a room in the heart of our office building into a place that fostered gatherings and creativity.

It was easy and inexpensive. We simply painted the walls in bold colors that complemented our corporate identity (gold, teal, orange), brought in couches, rugs, and incandescent lighting; and put in a Wii, shelves full of books, and other items to encourage engagement. In general, we used what we had, bringing items out of dusty corners or from lightly used rooms, so everyone in the company could rediscover them. It was fun, and physically manifested what we've been trying to accomplish with words and processes all year.

Sometimes the intentional arranging of space is the best thing we can do for our businesses. By creating central meeting spots and work places that invite entry and engagement -- rather than spaces devoid of color, texture, or personality -- we can begin to build cultures where people talk openly and honestly, care about their fellow employees, and think with open minds.

Intentional Creation to Reduce Stress

When I first moved to the Washington DC area in the mid-80s, I was deeply unhappy. Suddenly I found myself in an anonymous condo, driving endless miles on four-lane highways to work, disconnected from family and friends. The anonymity and apparent meaninglessness of my new life, bothered me so much that I began to have stomach problems, back aches, soreness in my joints, and general low-level depression.

I think many people suffer from similar maladies for similar reasons (check out the National Geographic documentary Stress: Portrait of a Killer). Our fast-paced, disconnected lives are killing us. And given this, perhaps one of the most important things we can do for ourselves, our families, and our world is to create Place.

Over the last 15 years, I've found ways of living in this area without going crazy or feeling depressed or frantic. Most of the ways I've found have to do with creating Place. We live in a small townhouse four blocks from where we walk to work in DelRay. Both our townhome and our offices are Places, as is our home in Loudoun, where we go most weekends. We don't commute. We have a lot of friends. We feel part of our communities. We spend a lot of time outside. And none of this was by accident.

My whole world has been intentionally created to give me a sense of connection in a time and area where it is so easy to feel disconnected and overwhelmed. Only when I lose consciousness for brief periods of time, start living without being aware of the sky, the dog, the trees, the people around me, that I slip back into aches and pains and exhaustion.

What Makes DelRay a Real Place?

Just beyond the Pentagon and Crystal City, tucked away from the traffic on Route 1, is the neighborhood of DelRay, which is truly a PLACE. How do you know a place when you find it, besides the feeling of Home it calls up? Let's look at the details of DelRay:

• The houses are different from each other, either built that way or made that way, painted bright hues or with interesting additions or art objects to suit the taste of each owner
• Nearly everything is within walking distance -- the Metro, the hardware story, the grocery store, many restaurants, the library, shops, the post office, the butcher shop
• People walk dogs, wheel children in strollers, go out in the evenings for ice cream so they know each other (if not by name, then by the name of their dog or their child:-)
• St. Elmos coffee shop, in the heart of town, is the "meeting spot" as is "The Farmer's Market" which sells local produce every weekend -- both places are crowded with people, babies, dogs and conversation
• Lack of chains -- there's a 7-11, which blends into the shops and houses around it but other than that most of the stores are individually and locally owned
• The sidewalks have been widened, paved with bricks and smoothed at the curbs to allow for handicap access, bicycles, and general beauty in walking -- freedom of movement is a hallmark here
• Great oaks and maples line the streets, flowers grow in abundance in each lawn or in windowboxes, and there are great grassy areas where dogs can romp and children can play. Every spring, the cherry trees flower in lacy frothy profusion.
• Several special events bring visitors to town -- Art on the Avenue, being the biggest and most well-known. People come by the thousands to see local art, listen to local music, and eat local food.
• Though only minutes away from DC, DelRay feels worlds away, having its own pace, its own feel, is own aesthetic.

A business associate who dropped me off after a particularly stressful meeting in the City, said upon suddenly entering DelRay, "Wow, this place is great. It feels like my old home town, but . . . .better." I'm not sure what he meant by "better," but I suspect it had to do with his suddenly appreciating how much he missed that Home Town, after being immersed in No Place for so long. Or perhaps it's because DelRay has been consciously created by people who respect the past and embrace the future. (Marilyn Finnemore)

Creating Real Work Places

We spend 8-10 hours a day, 40-60 hours a week, year in and year out at our job, yet many workplaces are No Places. Cubicles, white walls, bland artwork, square buildings -- these workplaces could be anywhere, producing anything.

I spend a great deal of time visiting clients in No Places -- our Government clients work in boxy, faceless offices where every office, every long hallway, every building looks exactly alike. Typically I have a good sense of direction, but I often get lost going to a client site that I've been to several times. There just aren't any distinguishing landmarks. I've even seen my clients get "lost" in their own building when they come to pick me up at some remote secured entrance.

My partner, Aldo, and I have worked hard to ensure that our own offices at Mind & Media, in the funky little neighborhood of Del Ray, capture the sense of Place that builds connectedness and promotes creativity. Our walls are colorful and full of art that employees have created. There are plants and natural light and awards we've won. Cubicles have been abolished for personalized work spaces and community areas.

Our clients love to come here. Many have expressed on more than one occasion that they "feel at Home." They like coming over to see our dogs, which we often bring to work, to see our collection of old communication equipment, and to walk to one of the many restaurants in our neighborhood for lunch. They come at first in suit and tie, but on the next visit they come in casual attire and with a smile on their face.

From my own experience, creating Place in the work world is a good strategic business move. The delight that our clients and partners show when they visit, suggest that Place in Business is all too rare and much appreciated when discovered. (Marilyn Finnemore)

Size vs Place: A Choice

During the week, my husband and I live in DelRay, a funky little neighborhood between Crystal City and Old Towne Alexandria. Because our offices are here, we can walk to work, go home for lunch and take the dogs out during the day -- luxuries that most DC denizens do not enjoy. Since we do not commute, we have hours more time than our suburban friends to go to the gym, go out to dinner, or spend time with friends.

It was a choice to move here and to open our offices here. We could have chosen a much larger residence in numerous suburbs outside the Beltway that were, at the time, "cleaner and safer." We could have chosen to rent a faceless, spanking new office in a former Reston cornfield, rather than renovate the turn-of-the-century wreck four blocks from our tiny townhouse. DelRay was run down in 1995 and seemingly not a place to walk at night, but its leafy sidewalks, eclectic mix of people, and proximity to the metro, grocery stores, restaurants, the post office, and the library appealed to me greatly. And besides, we could see that with a little TLC and paint, the neighborhood could be amazing (apparently other creative types saw the same thing given what DelRay has become in the last ten years).

Friends thought we were nuts. "Don't you know that you could have a place three times as big out where I live?" a business associate asked me in true puzzlement. I wondered if he knew how much he was giving up for that impressive home . . .