Ribbon of Highway

The words of Woodie Guthrie’s iconic song rang in my ears quite a bit over the last week, as Larry and I spent countless hours on the interstates that cross our vast country. “As I was walking that ribbon of highway, I saw above me that endless skyway; I saw below me that golden valley. This land was made for you and me.” Unlike Guthrie, we weren’t walking on “that ribbon of highway,” but our automobile trip to visit family in Kansas and to participate in a business meeting in Illinois exposed us to many a mile of that yellow-bordered ribbon of asphalt.

The land of the U. S. of A. has always stretched “from sea to shining sea,” but the ability to traverse it with speed, ease, comfort and even joy is new within my lifetime, as we learned at our visit to the Dwight D. Eisenhower Presidential Library and Museum in Abilene, Kansas. The Federal Interstate and Defense Highways Act was passed in 1956, and President Eisenhower placed his seal of approval upon Public Law 84-627, making provision for the highways that would one day stretch for more than 50,000 miles, north, south, east and west.

Eisenhower’s support of the Interstate Act had deep roots, stemming initially from his participation in the transcontinental motor convoy in 1919. That highly publicized military convoy, which crossed the United States primarily on the Lincoln Highway, was marked by cracked bridges, mud-entrenched vehicles, and faulty equipment – at the average rate of 6 miles per hour! But the convoy’s two-month-long journey drew attention to the need for better highways, for both the military and burgeoning automobile sales. As Eisenhower explained it in “At Ease: Stories I Tell to Friends,” “The old convoy had started me thinking about good, two-lane highways, but [experience in] Germany [with its autobahn network] had made me see the wisdom of broader ribbons across the land.” However, with the Crash of ’29, the subsequent Great Depression, and then World War II, no comprehensive plan to address the nation’s roadways was possible until 1956.

The Interstate system changed the landscape of our country, its major cities, and its farmland, as well as its transportation systems, employment patterns, and vacation travel. It certainly made out trip to and from Kansas efficient, if a tad boring.

To some extent, we’ve moved on from the challenges of Eisenhower’s day, but the expansion created in part by the interstates have led to other concerns. As we figuratively sailed across Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Missouri, and Kansas on those broad ribbons, a terribly unwelcome visit from Harvey turned Interstate 10 into a roaring river, described by Texas state representative Dade Phelen as “waves with whitecaps on the interstate.” The Katy Freeway claims the title of the widest freeway in the world, with up to twenty-six lanes at some points, but this past weekend, it challenged the mighty Mississippi in its width and power. President Eisenhower probably didn’t foresee that outcome to his far-reaching plan.

The images floating out of the Houston area this week have been unforgettable, heart-wrenching as well as heart-warming. In disaster relief, Americans are quick to reach out to our brothers and sisters in need, and Houston is no exception. But another component to disaster services is mitigation. What can be done to lessen the impact of a natural disaster in the future? Until the newly formed Katy River becomes the Katy Freeway again, it may be too early to ask those questions, but ask we must.

Where should we live? How should we live? How can we live so we don’t contribute to the possible destruction of our neighbors? Pardon the influence of the hippie era on me, but Woody Guthrie understood when he looked out upon the ribbons of highway and proclaimed, “this land is your land, this land is my land.” We won’t solve the issues facing our country by sitting around the campfire singing Kum Bah Yah, but as neighbors, community leaders, and elected representatives, affirming that “this land is made for me and you,” and acknowledging that our actions must work for the good of all, is a place I want to start.