Monday, July 15, 2019
Tuesday, August 1, 2017
Thursday, September 17, 2015
Mayor Murphy: "I'm tired of it." So are we Mayor Murphy, so are we.
Click the link below for insight into Shawn Kaleta's latest middle finger to the good citizens of Anna Maria. Or just follow the slime trail and go see for yourself...
http://www.islander.org/2015/09/anna-maria-mayor-bans-developer-cites-public-safety/
http://www.islander.org/2015/09/anna-maria-mayor-bans-developer-cites-public-safety/
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
And So It Has Come to This...
One of this city's icons has been the banyan tree on Park covering several lots and providing photo opps to visitors and locals for generations. This four-story high gentle giant has been a soothing and graceful presence amidst the ever expanding incursion of population and development.
But it seems, as with many things good and wondrous, even this grand lady is defenseless to the desires and wants of man. New Years Eve brought a paid crew of chain-sawed tree scalpers and arborists (one hopes that even they were crying just a little inside) who made quick work of much of the tree's healthy, vibrant and welcoming outstretched limbs and proud trunks. Witnesses described it as a "rape" but you decide:
.jpg)
The neutering is not finished. Another lot apparently must be made suitable to buyers on the uncut side of the tree. The sickening sounds of chain-saws and stump grinders will continue.
It is a shame in every conceivable sense of the word.
Yeah, Happy New Year.
-Bill Yanger
But it seems, as with many things good and wondrous, even this grand lady is defenseless to the desires and wants of man. New Years Eve brought a paid crew of chain-sawed tree scalpers and arborists (one hopes that even they were crying just a little inside) who made quick work of much of the tree's healthy, vibrant and welcoming outstretched limbs and proud trunks. Witnesses described it as a "rape" but you decide:
.jpg)
The neutering is not finished. Another lot apparently must be made suitable to buyers on the uncut side of the tree. The sickening sounds of chain-saws and stump grinders will continue.
It is a shame in every conceivable sense of the word.
Yeah, Happy New Year.
-Bill Yanger
Monday, May 28, 2012
From the Our Anna Maria Blog Archives: Just Breathe
A few reflective days back in our favorite place in the world prompted a few memories. We'd thought we'd share them...again. The original post can be accessed by clicking here:
Just Breathe...
By Bill Yanger
The back fender clangs staccato as the salty beach cruiser bounces off the pavement and onto the sandy path that leads to my church. A seagrape leaf, red veined, round and waxy, hangs just close enough to slap my shoulder and two plump breasted dove take to startled flight, wings whistling in reproach of the sudden intrusion and harmonizing with the melodic hum of a late day sea breeze through the brittle limbs and needles of Australian pines tilting, always, to the lee.
Scattered orphan pine needles provide traction over the shifty sand as the path bends first to the left around a scarred and sagging sable palm and then back to the right toward my sanctuary. I jump off just as the tires bog. I lay the bike behind a dune sprouting tufts of sea-oat grasses and look out over the brigades of kindred dunes marching in either direction while morning glories pop with purple panache along their jade-green railroad vines snaking between.
I squint at the path funneling out onto a blinding whiteness, like a giant sugar bowl has tipped and spilled its contents in front of me, broken only by a cresting high tide depositing a ragged line of Sargasso clumps and sea cockles before disappearing into an emerald infinity called the Gulf of Mexico. The air sniffs briny and young, as if newly conceived, then freed to flutter and soar.
In the near fifty years I’ve been coming here, I think to myself, the changes have been subtle but they have been certain. I first walked the point with my father, my little heels swallowed by dad’s deep damp footsteps as I stretched to follow the large man’s strides in the sand. He pointed to the cloud of seabirds nesting on Passage Key, what some called Bird Key, just to the north, and beyond that on Egmont Key to the broad shouldered old fort lording over the entrance to Tampa Bay. Both spits of land now seem smaller and less consequential, and Egmont’s fort is no longer the stuff of my childhood pirate fantasies, sulking into the sea.
In those days the Sunshine Skyway Bridge further to the east was a long dark monster piggybacking cars across the bay and allowing ships to pass under its fifteen story hulk of iron I-beams and rivets. The hump overlooked three counties, a dozen cities large and small, four barrier islands, mangrove tangles too many to number, three downtown clusters, a state park, a bustling port, Tampa Bay and the Gulf. This particular summit also provided a stunning surprise to the uninitiated traveler. As you approached the crest of the old bridge the hypnotic chocka-da chocka-da chocka-da of poured concrete slabs ended with a sudden rude blare of tires on an open iron grid, erupting like feedback from an amplified microphone. Those willing need only have glanced over their shoulder to see down through the road on which they were traveling, through the brawny metal grate and fifteen stories below to the whitecaps and the deep. But during a demonic morning thunderstorm that erased visibility in the shipping channel and caused a navigational apocalypse, the cargo vessel Summit Venture slammed into the looming structure and toppled it like a child’s toy erector set. Thirty five souls were lost when several cars and a Greyhound bus were unable to keep from following the twisted and wounded structure those fifteen stories into the sea. Mayhem and sorrow, then rebirth.
The bridge now mimics a fanciful two-masted schooner with soaring golden sails over sun bleached gunnels slipping across the bay in the warm afternoon light. Real sails tack under the Skyway’s broad reach and lumbering freighters push mounds of water in front of their bows headed to Port Tampa 30 miles up channel.
In later years I came to the point to fish, usually alone. I tied leaders with a knot my Jacksonville cousin, a charter captain, taught me to twist. He called it “slim beauty.” I prepped lures and lines late into the night and rose before the sun to shuffle in side-step along the point’s lazy lapping shore break, hunched over as if hiding from them helped, to bounce a feather tail jig along the swirling shallow bottom in the path of ghostly squadrons of torpedo shaped snook. When the sun broke above the mangrove shore toward the fat river mouth to the east, crisp long shadows erased the camouflage of the hazy early light and allowed for easier spotting so I rarely returned home without the fish part of my grandfather’s favorite breakfast, fish and grits. Granddad stirred the buttered bubbling grits at the stove top with his catcher’s mitt hands and a characteristic silence while I salted, peppered and pan fried the cornmeal dunked chunks of the morning’s take, maybe snook or maybe redfish or mackerel, sometimes a mangrove snapper. We ate in appreciative silence until Granddad scraped the last of his grits with a final sideways pull of his fork across the plate and said, ”Good stuff, boy,” a proud grin above the hard angles of his Germanic chin.
At night we shuffled waist deep netting blue crabs by spotting eyes above the sand bottom, lit like opals in the hissing glare of a mantled propane lantern. Mom and Aunt Jackie boiled the crabs with key lime wedges and a dozen or so shakes from a spice can with holes punched by Granddad’s awl and ball-peen hammer. The family stayed up past midnight “pickin” the white flaky flesh into mounds of the sweet meat and the next morning Grandma stirred it all into a chunky tomato sauce that was more garlic than tomato. The meat and the claws teased us for hours at a low saucy simmer until the pot was poured over what seemed to me then like an acre of steaming spaghetti noodles. The evening’s entertainment was watching newbies wrestle with cracking claws and extracting the prized meaty nugget without spraying a stream of red sauce across the table or on a neighboring shirt.
Years later I brought my son Zack here and we chucked white feather jigs and talked one day about grade school and little league and, it seems, the next about why his moving to Colorado after college is not such a bad idea. My daughters loved to spy on the point’s nesting shore birds from the scratchy dunes and imitate the symphony of peets and screeches floating from the momma birds hunkered down low over new hatchlings. Rachel tried the sweet short tonal whistling of a crested royal tern and Rose squeaked the squeak of an ornery orange-beaked black skimmer. We shuffled back through the sea oats to where we left our flip-flops and laid our bikes and pedaled home the long way, taking their “super-secret” route through the alleys and narrow easements and abandoned sidewalks of Anna Maria, the little beach town I love.
Yes, this is it. The Point. I have come here to walk, to talk, to fish and to remember times before. I have come here to pledge love and a lifetime of devotion to my soul mate. I have dripped sweat here in July and shivered in a January drizzle. I have laughed here, whooped out loud here and I have cried here. It is church, sanctuary, nirvana, eden.
I come here to breathe.
All the best to you and yours this holiday season.
Bill & Sherry
Just Breathe...
By Bill Yanger
The back fender clangs staccato as the salty beach cruiser bounces off the pavement and onto the sandy path that leads to my church. A seagrape leaf, red veined, round and waxy, hangs just close enough to slap my shoulder and two plump breasted dove take to startled flight, wings whistling in reproach of the sudden intrusion and harmonizing with the melodic hum of a late day sea breeze through the brittle limbs and needles of Australian pines tilting, always, to the lee.
Scattered orphan pine needles provide traction over the shifty sand as the path bends first to the left around a scarred and sagging sable palm and then back to the right toward my sanctuary. I jump off just as the tires bog. I lay the bike behind a dune sprouting tufts of sea-oat grasses and look out over the brigades of kindred dunes marching in either direction while morning glories pop with purple panache along their jade-green railroad vines snaking between.
I squint at the path funneling out onto a blinding whiteness, like a giant sugar bowl has tipped and spilled its contents in front of me, broken only by a cresting high tide depositing a ragged line of Sargasso clumps and sea cockles before disappearing into an emerald infinity called the Gulf of Mexico. The air sniffs briny and young, as if newly conceived, then freed to flutter and soar.
In the near fifty years I’ve been coming here, I think to myself, the changes have been subtle but they have been certain. I first walked the point with my father, my little heels swallowed by dad’s deep damp footsteps as I stretched to follow the large man’s strides in the sand. He pointed to the cloud of seabirds nesting on Passage Key, what some called Bird Key, just to the north, and beyond that on Egmont Key to the broad shouldered old fort lording over the entrance to Tampa Bay. Both spits of land now seem smaller and less consequential, and Egmont’s fort is no longer the stuff of my childhood pirate fantasies, sulking into the sea.
In those days the Sunshine Skyway Bridge further to the east was a long dark monster piggybacking cars across the bay and allowing ships to pass under its fifteen story hulk of iron I-beams and rivets. The hump overlooked three counties, a dozen cities large and small, four barrier islands, mangrove tangles too many to number, three downtown clusters, a state park, a bustling port, Tampa Bay and the Gulf. This particular summit also provided a stunning surprise to the uninitiated traveler. As you approached the crest of the old bridge the hypnotic chocka-da chocka-da chocka-da of poured concrete slabs ended with a sudden rude blare of tires on an open iron grid, erupting like feedback from an amplified microphone. Those willing need only have glanced over their shoulder to see down through the road on which they were traveling, through the brawny metal grate and fifteen stories below to the whitecaps and the deep. But during a demonic morning thunderstorm that erased visibility in the shipping channel and caused a navigational apocalypse, the cargo vessel Summit Venture slammed into the looming structure and toppled it like a child’s toy erector set. Thirty five souls were lost when several cars and a Greyhound bus were unable to keep from following the twisted and wounded structure those fifteen stories into the sea. Mayhem and sorrow, then rebirth.
The bridge now mimics a fanciful two-masted schooner with soaring golden sails over sun bleached gunnels slipping across the bay in the warm afternoon light. Real sails tack under the Skyway’s broad reach and lumbering freighters push mounds of water in front of their bows headed to Port Tampa 30 miles up channel.
In later years I came to the point to fish, usually alone. I tied leaders with a knot my Jacksonville cousin, a charter captain, taught me to twist. He called it “slim beauty.” I prepped lures and lines late into the night and rose before the sun to shuffle in side-step along the point’s lazy lapping shore break, hunched over as if hiding from them helped, to bounce a feather tail jig along the swirling shallow bottom in the path of ghostly squadrons of torpedo shaped snook. When the sun broke above the mangrove shore toward the fat river mouth to the east, crisp long shadows erased the camouflage of the hazy early light and allowed for easier spotting so I rarely returned home without the fish part of my grandfather’s favorite breakfast, fish and grits. Granddad stirred the buttered bubbling grits at the stove top with his catcher’s mitt hands and a characteristic silence while I salted, peppered and pan fried the cornmeal dunked chunks of the morning’s take, maybe snook or maybe redfish or mackerel, sometimes a mangrove snapper. We ate in appreciative silence until Granddad scraped the last of his grits with a final sideways pull of his fork across the plate and said, ”Good stuff, boy,” a proud grin above the hard angles of his Germanic chin.
At night we shuffled waist deep netting blue crabs by spotting eyes above the sand bottom, lit like opals in the hissing glare of a mantled propane lantern. Mom and Aunt Jackie boiled the crabs with key lime wedges and a dozen or so shakes from a spice can with holes punched by Granddad’s awl and ball-peen hammer. The family stayed up past midnight “pickin” the white flaky flesh into mounds of the sweet meat and the next morning Grandma stirred it all into a chunky tomato sauce that was more garlic than tomato. The meat and the claws teased us for hours at a low saucy simmer until the pot was poured over what seemed to me then like an acre of steaming spaghetti noodles. The evening’s entertainment was watching newbies wrestle with cracking claws and extracting the prized meaty nugget without spraying a stream of red sauce across the table or on a neighboring shirt.
Years later I brought my son Zack here and we chucked white feather jigs and talked one day about grade school and little league and, it seems, the next about why his moving to Colorado after college is not such a bad idea. My daughters loved to spy on the point’s nesting shore birds from the scratchy dunes and imitate the symphony of peets and screeches floating from the momma birds hunkered down low over new hatchlings. Rachel tried the sweet short tonal whistling of a crested royal tern and Rose squeaked the squeak of an ornery orange-beaked black skimmer. We shuffled back through the sea oats to where we left our flip-flops and laid our bikes and pedaled home the long way, taking their “super-secret” route through the alleys and narrow easements and abandoned sidewalks of Anna Maria, the little beach town I love.
Yes, this is it. The Point. I have come here to walk, to talk, to fish and to remember times before. I have come here to pledge love and a lifetime of devotion to my soul mate. I have dripped sweat here in July and shivered in a January drizzle. I have laughed here, whooped out loud here and I have cried here. It is church, sanctuary, nirvana, eden.
I come here to breathe.
All the best to you and yours this holiday season.
Bill & Sherry
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Cheers to Dale, John & SueLyn,
John, despite the best efforts of some to taint your excellent record, the people of Anna Maria stood behind you; you deserve their faith.
SueLyn, We hope you realize that the people took you at your word and have faith that you will work dilegently to preserve our residential city and not bow to special interests.
Dale, Good Luck may you have a very successful term.
Cheers!
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Goodbye Elizabeth
Anna Maria lost a little of its soul last night.
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Elizabeth Moss, whom we aptly described last year as “gracefully tenacious,” passed away June 25th in the company of her family and steps away from the dunes and sea oats she cherished and protected since first visiting here 90 years ago. Words cannot express what she has meant to this island and this town, we won’t even try.
Safe travels Mrs. Moss.
Elizabeth Moss, whom we aptly described last year as “gracefully tenacious,” passed away June 25th in the company of her family and steps away from the dunes and sea oats she cherished and protected since first visiting here 90 years ago. Words cannot express what she has meant to this island and this town, we won’t even try.
Safe travels Mrs. Moss.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Something To Think About Folks...
From today's St. Pete Times, a thoughtful warning from Charles Pattison, president and chief executive of 1000 Friends of Florida, 1000friendsofflorida.org, a statewide nonprofit established in 1986 to serve as a watchdog over growth management in Florida:
A few weeks ago, the well-regarded national business journal Chief Executive ranked Florida third in the nation as a business-friendly state. Florida received high marks because of its low taxes, business-friendly regulations and strong quality of life. Florida Trend lists quality of life as one of the top 10 reasons to do business in Florida, and the Florida Chamber of Commerce identifies it as one of its six pillars for Florida's future.
But during the 2011 session, "probusiness" Gov. Rick Scott and the Legislature put Florida's quality of life squarely in their crosshairs. Florida's quarter-century-old system of managing growth was gutted. Important measures to protect the environment were tossed. Long-standing programs to protect drinking water sources and water quality were slashed. This was in the name of promoting jobs, even though extensive residential and commercial development approved by local and state governments over the last few years has yet to be built.
How can destroying Florida's quality of life, degrading its drinking water, and passing the costs of development off to taxpayers be an effective long-term economic development strategy? It can't be, especially in light of declining property values. According to the St. Petersburg Times, Tampa Bay area property values have dropped by more than 50 percent since 2006; close to 60 percent of area homeowners are underwater on their mortgages; and some experts say the worst is yet to come.
What has happened? Florida's leaders are supporting short-term gain over long-term, sustainable economic prosperity. They view this state as nothing more than a commodity, to be bought and sold to the highest bidder regardless of the consequences. This harks back to the anything-goes days of the 1960s and 1970s when the Everglades burned, untreated sewage poured into the Gulf of Mexico, and local taxpayers footed the bill for roads and sewer systems for unneeded new development. Back then, Florida's quality of life took a nosedive, and taxpayers clamored for passage of the now-gutted 1985 growth management act.
Public opinion polls consistently show most Florida residents support protecting natural areas, safeguarding drinking water and maintaining a high quality of life. Floridians understand that effective growth management is essential if Florida is to prosper in the 21st century. So in light of what happened during the legislative session, how do we best protect and sustain these qualities that make Florida so attractive to residents and visitors, and that are needed to attract new business?
As in 1985, Floridians need to give local and state elected officials a wakeup call. At the local level, engage in the community's planning process. Monitor changes to community plans and speak out at public hearings. Call on local government to give residents more say in community planning. Join local smart growth and conservation organizations that address these issues, and become an active participant. Encourage friends to become involved in planning the community's future. Write letters to the editor and share your views through social media. When candidates run for office, ask for their position on managing growth and protecting the environment, and vote accordingly.
Similarly, at the state level support those candidates who understand that growth management is essential for a sustainable future. Demand that legislators and the governor craft bipartisan solutions to ensure that development occurs in appropriate locations, significant natural resources are protected, and developers pay the costs associated with new development. Remind elected leaders that it is much harder for businesses to relocate to Florida when each of more than 470 local governments has its own rules regarding growth. Share with them that Florida paves over rural lands and destroys the source of much of the state's drinking water, businesses won't want to move here. Likewise, clogged roads, crowded schools and rivers polluted with runoff from development will not lure business and their workers to this state.
Florida is at a critical juncture. There is no doubt that this state's quality of life and environment suffered serious setbacks during the 2011 session. It will not be easy to turn the tide but it can be done, as it was in 1985.
Click HERE for the direct link.
All the best.
Bill Yanger
A few weeks ago, the well-regarded national business journal Chief Executive ranked Florida third in the nation as a business-friendly state. Florida received high marks because of its low taxes, business-friendly regulations and strong quality of life. Florida Trend lists quality of life as one of the top 10 reasons to do business in Florida, and the Florida Chamber of Commerce identifies it as one of its six pillars for Florida's future.
But during the 2011 session, "probusiness" Gov. Rick Scott and the Legislature put Florida's quality of life squarely in their crosshairs. Florida's quarter-century-old system of managing growth was gutted. Important measures to protect the environment were tossed. Long-standing programs to protect drinking water sources and water quality were slashed. This was in the name of promoting jobs, even though extensive residential and commercial development approved by local and state governments over the last few years has yet to be built.
How can destroying Florida's quality of life, degrading its drinking water, and passing the costs of development off to taxpayers be an effective long-term economic development strategy? It can't be, especially in light of declining property values. According to the St. Petersburg Times, Tampa Bay area property values have dropped by more than 50 percent since 2006; close to 60 percent of area homeowners are underwater on their mortgages; and some experts say the worst is yet to come.
What has happened? Florida's leaders are supporting short-term gain over long-term, sustainable economic prosperity. They view this state as nothing more than a commodity, to be bought and sold to the highest bidder regardless of the consequences. This harks back to the anything-goes days of the 1960s and 1970s when the Everglades burned, untreated sewage poured into the Gulf of Mexico, and local taxpayers footed the bill for roads and sewer systems for unneeded new development. Back then, Florida's quality of life took a nosedive, and taxpayers clamored for passage of the now-gutted 1985 growth management act.
Public opinion polls consistently show most Florida residents support protecting natural areas, safeguarding drinking water and maintaining a high quality of life. Floridians understand that effective growth management is essential if Florida is to prosper in the 21st century. So in light of what happened during the legislative session, how do we best protect and sustain these qualities that make Florida so attractive to residents and visitors, and that are needed to attract new business?
As in 1985, Floridians need to give local and state elected officials a wakeup call. At the local level, engage in the community's planning process. Monitor changes to community plans and speak out at public hearings. Call on local government to give residents more say in community planning. Join local smart growth and conservation organizations that address these issues, and become an active participant. Encourage friends to become involved in planning the community's future. Write letters to the editor and share your views through social media. When candidates run for office, ask for their position on managing growth and protecting the environment, and vote accordingly.
Similarly, at the state level support those candidates who understand that growth management is essential for a sustainable future. Demand that legislators and the governor craft bipartisan solutions to ensure that development occurs in appropriate locations, significant natural resources are protected, and developers pay the costs associated with new development. Remind elected leaders that it is much harder for businesses to relocate to Florida when each of more than 470 local governments has its own rules regarding growth. Share with them that Florida paves over rural lands and destroys the source of much of the state's drinking water, businesses won't want to move here. Likewise, clogged roads, crowded schools and rivers polluted with runoff from development will not lure business and their workers to this state.
Florida is at a critical juncture. There is no doubt that this state's quality of life and environment suffered serious setbacks during the 2011 session. It will not be easy to turn the tide but it can be done, as it was in 1985.
Click HERE for the direct link.
All the best.
Bill Yanger
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Nally Lawsuit Result: Comp Plan To Be Amended
The Nallys, the City and PAR have settled their lawsuit by reaching an agreement to amend the Comp Plan. Those of you who remain interested in the future of Pine Avenue can read the settlement agreement by clicking HERE and deciding for yourself what, if anything, it actually means.
All the best.
Bill Yanger
All the best.
Bill Yanger
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
water bill
This is just a curious inquiry to all of you in Anna Maria land. We received a water bill in January for $950. Our usual bill is about $50. No one was staying in the house that month. We had a plumber check it out and she could find no leaks. Today I read that there are a number of "false bills" in the Tampa area related to defective meters and "software billing problems". Water utilities are denying claims. Do any of you have similar problems ? Maybe we've been thirsty?
Friday, January 28, 2011
Come to Pine Avenue Parking Commission Meetings!
I went to the Anna Maria City Commission meeting yesterday.
They talked about sand for awhile, then in the last few minutes, it seemed, they apparently adopted what looks like a new parking plan of which no citizens, and perhaps not even the commissioners themselves, understand the consequences.
From my view in the audience, it appeared that the commission will do away with the regulation that says businesses on Pine Avenue need a certain number of parking spaces on their lot. Instead, they will let cars back into the street. Everything that had to do with previous parking regulations has disappeared.
Now Alan Garret is going to write up, I think, (it was all kind of muddle-y,) new regulations that redefine “on-site” to mean a general parking area which has no relationship to the size of the building, and may or may not include a bit of on-site area.
The unintended consequences of this new parking idea has not been addressed. A few of these consequences include:
- 1 This plan increases congestion:
lots of cars will back into the street, as opposed to our present requirement of one driveway into the street from each on-site parking area
- 2 This plan is not safe:
lots of segways, bikes, four-man-bike-carriages, and pedestrians will pass behind cars on the right of way. Even though a meandering sidewalk near the buildings will be built, people generally want to get from point A to B in a straight line--in this case one that follows the street behind parked cars. And passing behind a parked car is never safe.
- 3 This plan changes the ambience of Pine Avenue:
Instead of each business providing their own solution to parking on their premises, the look and feel will be that of a strip mall, where all the cars are parked next to each other with a grand view of their rear ends
- 4 This plan is contrary to our comprehensive plan and the desires of most residents:
The comprehensive plans calls for minimizing access points to businesses; this plan makes all of Pine Avenue an access point. And what most citizens want is to keep Anna Maria the residential beach community it now is, which is not what this plan creates
The sad thing is, hardly any residents came to the meeting or spoke their opinions about this proposed change in our law.
There are a few commissioners who are fighting hard for our interests, and they deserve our support.
I encourage citizens who agree, read or write for this blog to attend the next parking meeting and urge commissioners to leave the definition of “on-site” as it is. They should keep the requirement that the number of parking spaces a business must have, be based on the size of the building.
This doesn’t have to be a done deal yet!
They talked about sand for awhile, then in the last few minutes, it seemed, they apparently adopted what looks like a new parking plan of which no citizens, and perhaps not even the commissioners themselves, understand the consequences.
From my view in the audience, it appeared that the commission will do away with the regulation that says businesses on Pine Avenue need a certain number of parking spaces on their lot. Instead, they will let cars back into the street. Everything that had to do with previous parking regulations has disappeared.
Now Alan Garret is going to write up, I think, (it was all kind of muddle-y,) new regulations that redefine “on-site” to mean a general parking area which has no relationship to the size of the building, and may or may not include a bit of on-site area.
The unintended consequences of this new parking idea has not been addressed. A few of these consequences include:
- 1 This plan increases congestion:
lots of cars will back into the street, as opposed to our present requirement of one driveway into the street from each on-site parking area
- 2 This plan is not safe:
lots of segways, bikes, four-man-bike-carriages, and pedestrians will pass behind cars on the right of way. Even though a meandering sidewalk near the buildings will be built, people generally want to get from point A to B in a straight line--in this case one that follows the street behind parked cars. And passing behind a parked car is never safe.
- 3 This plan changes the ambience of Pine Avenue:
Instead of each business providing their own solution to parking on their premises, the look and feel will be that of a strip mall, where all the cars are parked next to each other with a grand view of their rear ends
- 4 This plan is contrary to our comprehensive plan and the desires of most residents:
The comprehensive plans calls for minimizing access points to businesses; this plan makes all of Pine Avenue an access point. And what most citizens want is to keep Anna Maria the residential beach community it now is, which is not what this plan creates
The sad thing is, hardly any residents came to the meeting or spoke their opinions about this proposed change in our law.
There are a few commissioners who are fighting hard for our interests, and they deserve our support.
I encourage citizens who agree, read or write for this blog to attend the next parking meeting and urge commissioners to leave the definition of “on-site” as it is. They should keep the requirement that the number of parking spaces a business must have, be based on the size of the building.
This doesn’t have to be a done deal yet!
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Like A Marble Staircase In A Quaint Beach Cottage...
Pine Avenue parking is once again on the agenda tonight at City Hall and anyone interested in what direction this thing will take should show up and ask some questions. While the concept of “meandering sidewalks” appears to be where the City Commission is headed, how that ultimately works, legally and logistically, is far from decided.
The “meandering” part of the proposed plans refers to essentially serpentining the sidewalks from the right-of-way abutting the street, where the City Code currently requires them to be, to the space between nose-in parked vehicles and buildings on certain commercial parcels creating an easement separate and apart from the street that the City thereafter maintains. You can go ahead and consider “certain commercial parcels” as those developed or to be developed by PAR.
The rub comes from those three thorny words “right” and “of” and “way.” That’s land under the city’s control, land and infrastructure maintained by your tax dollars. Without the right-of-way a meandering sidewalk, whether they call it a “public” or a “private” parking plan, cannot work. There is simply not enough room. Proponents would have you believe the City can simply swap out the respective pieces of the sidewalk like a jigsaw puzzle up and down Pine Avenue wherever developers seek to wedge in as much parking as legally allowable and everything will be copacetic. But...
The “meandering” part of the proposed plans refers to essentially serpentining the sidewalks from the right-of-way abutting the street, where the City Code currently requires them to be, to the space between nose-in parked vehicles and buildings on certain commercial parcels creating an easement separate and apart from the street that the City thereafter maintains. You can go ahead and consider “certain commercial parcels” as those developed or to be developed by PAR.
The rub comes from those three thorny words “right” and “of” and “way.” That’s land under the city’s control, land and infrastructure maintained by your tax dollars. Without the right-of-way a meandering sidewalk, whether they call it a “public” or a “private” parking plan, cannot work. There is simply not enough room. Proponents would have you believe the City can simply swap out the respective pieces of the sidewalk like a jigsaw puzzle up and down Pine Avenue wherever developers seek to wedge in as much parking as legally allowable and everything will be copacetic. But...
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