A couple of weeks ago, Paul, our excellent destroyer of
earth, laid down the gravel for the driveway, a thick gravy of limestone shards
leading to the empty patch that imagines our house. He drove the big red truck up the drive, its hydraulic
pistons urging the bed upward at the same time until its back end opened up and
– with apologies for the scatological image -- out flowed the stone river as
the truck moved slowly on toward the house site. His son came along later on a tractor with a
huge roller that tamped it all down. When
the drive was finished, it was so pristine that Michael didn't want to walk on
it with his muddy boots, but off we trudged corrupting its surface, up the hill,
around the bend, and down again where our staked out Oz beckons.
The gravel for our driveway was dug and chopped up right here
in Greenport by A. Colarusso & Sons, a local company founded by great-great
grandfather Antonio in 1935. It is now into its fourth generation of digging
rocks and making streets and highways. The quarries, from which its gravel is
mined, are part of the Becraft geologic formation, presumably one of the
world's richest sources of limestone, and, in this case, limestone with
friction qualities that make it an excellent source for our gravel driveway.
The Colarussos had been leasing much of the land feeding their
mines from Holcim, a giant Swiss-owned supplier of mineral and cement. A few
months ago, they were able to buy 1,800 acres, which included the quarries, from this Monster Lessor for $8.75 million, a cheap price considering local land
values these days. Holcim recently merged with Lafarge, a French cement monster, to form the
world's largest cement and construction materials company. Holcim avoided an
anti-trust action by agreeing to shed some its assets, possibly why it rid
itself of its Greenport property.
But there's also a deeper story. Holcim, formerly Holnam, has an offspring,
the unfortunate St. Lawrence Cement Company, that was beaten back a few years
ago by local environmentalists from building a Godzilla cement plant on the
land Colarusso has now bought. Among
other egregious intrusions, the plant would have constructed a 400-foot
smokestack, spreading a plume of emissions six miles into the air over Hudson
and Greenport, right down the road from our up and coming house.
So Colarusso's ownership now includes the quarries and
property on Greenport's rural southern end near where we live. Under the
contract, Colarusso can't compete by making cement, and one hopes that Holcim
has pulled back most of its forces from the neighborhood to clobber local
citizens in other towns. So long, adieu, auf wiedersehen, bye bye. (Of continuing concern is LeFarge,
Holcim's new twin brother, whose cement plant right across the river is still
using fly-ash in its process, a concoction that in 2009 made it New York's second-largest emitter of airborne mercury.)
Not only are most of the people up here connected to every
other person here through churches, kindergarten classes, marriage, or blood,
but the living things that grow in the earth and the non-living things taken
from it are also connected. We have
local farms that feed us and we also have local mines that make our roads. So,
Colarusso is here digging up my town's back yard, but they are old neighbors. I
am leaning on the side of hope that, compared to Holcim, the family is likely
to be better stewards of the earth that they have lived and died on for more
than a century than alien invaders from Switzerland and France. Nevertheless, no one is perfect.
Colarusso's blasting has shaken Greenport houses near its
quarries for years. And it also has a right-of-way on the "Haul
Road", which passes through a series of wetlands still owned by Holcim,
down to the City of Hudson's southern riverfront. Colarusso is seeking to build a concrete
bulkhead stretching 170 feet along the Hudson shore. The DEC doesn't think the project threatens anything historical or environmental, but
local groups have risen up to fight its incursion. According to the South Bay Task Force, an
ever-vigilant opponent of any threats to the Hudson riverfront, the structure
Colarusso wants to build will be used for moorings, "where barges can be
stacked and at the ready for an intensification of aggregate shipping".
One hopes that there won't be too many barges or that Colarusso won't build a
giant gravel-carrying conveyor belt from their new property down to the river, which
St. Lawrence had wanted to do.
I can't ignore the processes that brutalize the land and poison
the air above it, but we have to work with, while trying to reduce, the
tensions created by their destruction and the civilization they have built. And
I just can't help but view the functional movement of that gray stone and its creation,
my driveway, as beautiful.
Wonderfully evocative read as always. I think you depict the complexity of local earth workings, the strange beauty of the industrial activity, the monsters who seem to always want their pound flesh, (and stone is flesh, Michelangelo referred to marble as "meat"), and how the community that they live within is bound in a difficult dance of profit, jobs, family, history and need for balance. We were awestruck when we visited Carrara Italy years ago. The great and small machines had been scraping at the surface of the marble deposits for centuries, extraction methods had changed and there was still so much more marble in the body of the mountain. Generations worked the stone and still do. Great works of art and building materials come from the same veins.
ReplyDeleteGreat writing. Hope to see the gray road to paradise!
Great comment. Thanks.
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