Ed. — Archived from the Sunday, Oct. 22, print edition.
VIRGINIA BEACH — One of the things my grandfather enjoyed doing was taking the family on outings involving local history. These trips were especially fun for him when our ancestors could be tied to the area’s past.
That was rare – and mostly a matter of my grandfather’s keen ability to spin yarn by embellishing the facts a bit. Nevertheless, his stories of the places we visited highlighted the role of individuals in shaping the worlds they inhabit.
The significance of personal investment in the place you call home is especially important to Virginia Beach today.
Recently, there has been a flurry of meetings centered around Virginia Beach development, from a key piece of property at Rudee Inlet to our rural area of southern Virginia Beach. Word on the streets of District 2, for instance, is that some of our agricultural lands are in the crosshairs and moving the Green Line, a protective boundary separating the suburban north from the more rural south, is up for consideration.
These types of discussions are not new. Some may reflect fears as much as concrete actions, but they also reflect common sense for people who care about how the city develops what it should and conserves what it should not.
There’s almost always been an uninformed view of the rural area as the last remaining developable land in Virginia Beach.
However, the nearly 145 square miles of mostly low-lying land, water, wetlands and floodplains are home to our rural communities, agritourism and agricultural industries, which are crucial to our local economy and include a thriving global component. An estimated 26,000 acres of our southern city is in agricultural production or is forest or pasture, according to the city.
Today’s discussions about development below the Green Line are especially concerning because growth in the area is exploding, affordable housing is shrinking and our coastal fragility is worsening.
At the same time, historical knowledge of the area is increasingly limited as those with it – city staff, officials and residents — move on to retirement or take a back seat in these important discussions.
I regularly attended meetings about development in the area a few years ago when I served on the Planning Commission, and I would see mostly familiar faces in the room.
Many were long-time residents with differing concerns but a common interest in preserving the area through shared knowledge about the place. It was a comfort to see the continued commitment of so many. Yet I knew then that the reach of that knowledge was limited by the lack of diversity in the room.
There’s more opportunity when the small sea of faces at an area development meeting are familiar and unknown, old and young, long-time residents and newbies. A more varied set of perspectives helps city officials shape the area to suit the needs of future residents. It also provides a key opportunity to see the area and the issues with fresh eyes and a critical chance to share invaluable historical knowledge with the next generation.
It can be frightening when someone who doesn’t know the history of an area shares a thought about it that counters a commonly held and historically based view.
But there’s no better way to educate others than to sit at the table with them and discuss the issues the area faces.
Getting more people of varied ages and walks of life at the table is no easy task. But it’s not impossible because it’s partially a matter of mindset. Those with historical knowledge of the area who see preservation as imperative can share with others what the place means to them, their connection to it and its value on a personal level.
In this way, we can do for the next generation of residents what my grandfather’s local history tours did for me – encourage a sense of responsibility for the area and a commitment to personal investment in the place they call home.
And those of us who value the rural city need to speak only the truth of why this place matters to those in power.
The author is a former Virginia Beach Planning Commissioner and college professor. Reach her at leejogger@gmail.com.
© 2023 Pungo Publishing Co., LLC
