I live in parks.
I wake up in the morning and weave through the narrow streets of my near medieval-density neighborhood, cross two lanes of (admittedly ornery) traffic and find my way down the lush greenery of the Greenway, through fountains and lawns for at least a third of my commute, then into urban fabric so dense it makes traffic
seem ridiculous (it takes much longer to drive than to walk, and once you get there you can't park anywhere near by). My whole life is arranged around this park: work, gym, friends, groceries, farmer's market, favorite bars, the T, the highway tucked neatly underneath. Even trips to the bookstore, library, barber, and clothes are more than half spent in the Common, Garden, and Commonwealth Mall in that order. When I take the train to Cambridge I have found ways to do most of my walking next to lawns, as are my frequent destinations. I run on the esplanade, far from the road as possible. I'm not alone.It's significant because it could make urban density more than palatable to the vast majority of people, reversing the wasteful cycle of sprawl and highway extension we are locked in.
The thing it's missing is contiguity: the ability to walk from a building directly into a park setting, to avoid almost entirely the damaging effects of particulate exhaust inhalation that will certainly surface in health care costs as generations age, dangers of traffic to children, and prevent the foolish hope that you are that very special person for whom the universe has reserved a parking spot directly in front of your destination.
This does exist in one quiet but enormously pregnant instance: the "corridor" park that runs
between the Back Bay and South end, however no buildings open onto it, not one building admits it's proximity even though the park is lined with wealthy residents and their high-end retail establishments - what a precedent that could be. Oh well.
