If you spend time in nature it will increase the odds that it can be saved. Sometimes passion is all it takes.

Embedded in my mind and the minds of thousands of people, young and old, are memories of warm summer days and sultry nights spent on the strip of beaches across from David’s Island in New Rochelle, New York, where Fort Slocum used to be.

I remember standing next to my Dad on the beach when I asked him what that chunk of green land across the water was. I was only 7 or 8 years old but I can still visualize this. He was looking at the island, not at me, in that way he often did. “That’s Fort Slocum,” he said. I knew he would know, he knew everything back then.

This view of David’s Island is taken from Glen Island, which is a bit south of where I continually viewed the Island from. Photo: Jim Henderson, Wikimedia

I have memories of looking through my Dad’s binoculars with the boys – I was often the only girl in the sun-tanned, scrappy pack – as we tried to see and imagine cannons and embattlements in the ruins. The island fort fueled our imaginations and became a holding ground for our whimsy and our fear.

Although I never stepped foot on the Island – it was only part of the scenery across the water – I was constantly aware of its presence. The trees on David’s Island were like guardians that quietly held our experiences; watching  without judging or interfering.

Looking back I see that the Island was a living breathing metaphor for that time in our lives. We were in a safe place – like the fort once erected for our protection; but the recklessness of our youth was triumphantly in motion – like the lush vines and bushes that grew up and over the ruins. Life at the beach was secure but exciting; wild but not destructive.

This is the exact angle of view I used to see David’s Island from, but the wrong time of year. The island was green in summer as in the photo above. The water tower was part of the ruins at Fort Slocum that were recently knocked down, which is why it is absent in the other photo. I hadn’t seen or thought about this water tower in decades, seeing it when I was searching for photos to use here, touched a place in the deep recesses of my brain. Photo: Jim Henderson, Wikimedia Commons

Plans to Bulldoze David’s Island

The impact the Island and Fort Slocum had on me and others became surprisingly evident when a dozen or so years ago, there was talk of turning it into a massive condominium development. An outpouring of public outcry resulted. Efforts to preserve it were underway and I supported those whole-heartedly, even though I no longer lived in the area.

I was upset that one of the few pristine landscapes left in that urbanized place would vanish. I wanted other people to have the same kinds of life-changing outdoor experiences I had and if the Island were developed, that opportunity would be lost. Even back in the 1970’s, the beaches were closed to swimming on some of our summer days due to water pollution, so the idea of large quantities of new effluent being discharged into these waters seemed horrifying.

I wanted other people to have the same kinds of life-changing outdoor experiences I had and if the Island were developed, that opportunity would be lost.

So many people would say, “you can’t stop progress” and it’s wrong to take claim on someone else’s property just because you are feeling sentimental about it. But progress is in the eye of the beholder.

And if we chide sentimentality, or say that our personal, visceral connection to the land and water should not play a role in how our neighborhoods evolve, then we risk creating broken, comatose communities that suck the life out of the human spirit, rather than nourish it.

Because as it turns out, the arbitrary geographic boundaries that come with land ownership didn’t stop me from feeling like Fort Slocum and David’s Island belonged to me; were a part of me. And that is how it is with all things in nature.

Preserving Land and Natural Resources

Communities would be irresponsible if they didn’t identify the valuable resources within their boundaries, understand their impact on the whole community, and work towards reasonable preservation solutions, and this does happen all the time.

Sadly, the city of New Rochelle ultimately decided to demolish rather than restore the ruins of Fort Slocum, destroying this historic resource. But there is talk of turning the island into a park and the condo development is off the table. So we have a partial victory, which is better than nothing.

But no victory would have happened if people didn’t care about the Island in the first place. The remarkable thing, is that most of the people who fought for the island were never even on it. Even in the background, this bit of nature exerted a powerful pull on hundreds of people who had the privilege of being in its presence. This is why I know Bob is right when he talks about the value of spending more time in nature.

©Lisa C. DeLuca, 2013 all rights reserved.  It is a violation of copyright law to reproduce this work on the web for any reason, or in print for business use without permission from the author.  Please contact the author with your reprint request.

If you enjoyed this post you might also enjoy this story about those days at the beach and what it meant: The Key to Time Travel is an Old Beach Towel