Everyday Life

Have you ever heard of a food desert?

The term refers to areas where access to fresh food is scarce.

I learned about food deserts in school and acknowledged that such places theoretically exist, where people (especially those without access to reliable transportation) have a hard time purchasing fresh foods – especially fresh fruits and vegetables.

I thought of Lincoln’s downtown, where there are few grocery stores and where many of the residents (okay, my context is almost entirely based on being a student and employee at the University of Nebraska – Lincoln) don’t have cars.

Surprisingly, when I looked at the USDAs data (check out your location here), I discover that Lincoln’s downtown is NOT a food dessert, but where I grew up IS.

This despite the fact that I spent my childhood and certainly my teenage years walking or riding my bicycle to the Walmart Supercenter or Super Saver (the most amazing grocery store EVER) that were less than 2 miles away. Huh.

Then again, the criterion for limited access in urban areas is that a large (>33%) proportion of the population is not within 1 mile of a grocery store. So I qualified. I hoofed it 1.5 and 1.8 miles respectively to Walmart or SuperSaver.

Oh, and I just forgot, there were a couple of HyVees too. One at 1.4 miles and one at 1.6 miles or so. Yep, I guess I was in a food desert. Strangely enough, I felt like I had the best access to food I’ve ever experienced in my life. Imagine that.

Now that I’m in Wichita, I’m one street away from a food dessert.

I have one grocery store complex (Walmart Neighborhood Marketplace and Dillons) at 2 miles (an easy enough biking distance); another complex (Walmart Neighborhood Marketplace, Dillons, and ALDI) at 3.2 miles (for me, still a decent biking distance); and a third with all three stores at 3.9 miles. I struggle to come up with the store that’s within 1 mile of the majority of my census tract – but we’re still definitely not deprived.

So, I’m almost a desert dweller, officially. In reality, I’m not so sure.

We have a neighbor who is very patriotic.

I’ve never met him but there’s absolutely no doubt in my mind that he’s committed to the USA.

It’s the red, white, and blue you see.

Yes, a flag flies proudly from the flagpole in his yard – but plenty of people have a flag flying in their yards.

The Stars and Stripes hangs beside no ordinary house. This is a red, white, and blue house.

And in front of this house lies a flower bed planted with red, white, and blue flowers.

A few days ago, I drove home from work and saw my patriotic neighbor doing some yard work dressed (you guessed it) in red, white, and blue.

Now that’s patriotism.

A little over a year ago, I moved 230 miles south from Lincoln, NE to Wichita, KS. It’s not a huge distance. It can be traveled in just more than four hours by car. But it’s the difference between expecting regular snowfall during the winter and not. It’s the difference between experiencing accumulation and not.

Wichita rarely gets snow–and when it does, it generally disappears within 24 hours.

Except for the past two winters. Last year, Wichita had enough snow that they cancelled school for a week.

At first, I, like a whole host of northerners, scoffed at what I considered to be unnecessary closures. But a year of living in Wichita has convinced me that a little snow in Southern climes really IS worth freaking out about.

Do you doubt me?

If you’re from Nebraska or South Dakota or Minnesota, you probably do. But let me make my case.

You’ve heard some from the south talk about how their road maintenance crews are ill-equipped for any amount of snow. This is true in many places–Wichita has snowplows and salt stores, but many more southerly locations do not.

But I feel that the reason a little snow is worth freaking out about has to do with another sort of resource: human resources.

The fact is, southern drivers haven’t driven in snow. They don’t know what they should or shouldn’t be doing. They don’t have the knowledge or the experience to safely handle even small amounts of snow.

In Nebraska, there were three types of unsafe winter drivers: the kids who’d never driven on ice before, the new SUV owners who were overconfident because of their vehicles, and the old women who were roadhogs.

In Wichita, there is only one type of unsafe winter drivers: everyone.

Because no one knows how to drive in snow.

This isn’t their fault. It’s not that they’re bad drivers (although many of them are, unfortunately). It’s just that they have neither the education nor the experience to drive in snow appropriately.

They’re terrified, so they drive far more slowly than the weather merits. They can’t see well, so they drive far more closely together than is safe. They start sliding, so they slam on their brakes. They slide more and it’s slow-mo bumper cars.

The few who do know how to drive in snow (maybe they moved down from Nebraska?) don’t have much recourse except to drive slowly but with adequate distance between cars. The roads are too clogged with slow-driving citizens to let them practice their safe-snow-driving skills.

So what is a southern city to do?

I recommend that they freak out.

Close schools. Let people work from home. Only have essential employees come in.

Keep people off the roads so that the only people on them are those who either have to be or who know how to safely drive on them.

Short of transplanting every resident to a norther clime for a winter and having them practice driving with a native, I think that freaking out is the most reasonable option.