October 5, 2011 THE VILLADOM TIMES II • Page 15 Some residents apparently never knew such an agreement ever existed. The dam that holds Rambaut Lake in place is now in visibly bad shape – just how bad depends on whether you think you might have to pay for fixing it. During Hurricane Irene, Wyckoff Mayor Kevin Rooney took a look at the water and found it worrisome, and most members of the Wyckoff Township Committee seemed to agree with him. The trouble is that, since the Beekmere organization no longer exists, and since a new resident group that seemed to be taking form last year was never formalized, nobody can agree who should pay to replace the dam. The township thinks the residents should pay, some of the residents don’t want to pay, and others want to help the township to pay through taxes. The township argues that the people who derive the aesthetic and recreational benefits from Rambaut Lake do not have the right to tax the rest of Wyckoff to preserve their neighborhood jewel. The spokespersons for the residents have argued that, since part of Wyckoff and part of Franklin Lakes visibly contribute to Rambaut Lake’s flood water problems by draining runoff into the lake, responsibility is collective and letting the whole town pay would be equitable. The DEP, when last heard from, was not interested in donating a new dam, and at the speed the DEP generally moves, the whole township could be a lake before anything happens. If the dam gives way – not likely, according to the neighbors; a very plausible threat according to the Wyckoff Township Committee – the rush of water could cause serious problems for Midland Park, which is downstream, and for Ridgewood, where the water would eventually reach Ho-Ho-Kus Brook, which is to say the Ridgewood Senior Center, the Ridgewood Youth Center, and the parking lot of the biggest library in Northwest Bergen County. From these tales of woe, let us turn to Allendale. A few years ago, neighbors were horrified to see that 24 townhouses had been approved for a lot that was at least bordering on a floodway. Jim Strauch, who is now a council member, took up a collection. He accepted $1,000 from every family who was interested in an attempt to buy the land. Mayor Vince Barra picked up the ball in concert with the council. Through state and county grants, the donated money, and a good deal from the sympathetic landowner, Allendale was able to buy the land, build affordable special-needs housing on one quadrant with outside money, and turn the rest of the 3.4-acre site into a landscaped park with minimal parking and paving. More recently, Allendale obtained 24 acres of unbuildable wetlands for non-payment of taxes, and sold it to the Passaic River Coalition for dedication as a permanent natural woodland – no trails, no parking, no restrooms – and no obstacle to water percolating back into the soil. Nobody is going to be drowned out by runoff from either of these sites. Ridgewood’s decision is whether to give up a ground floor that cannot, as the situation now exists, be protected from flood runoff. Northwest Bergen’s decision is whether to accept annual flooding of basements to the point where some houses undergo condemnation proceedings and all of them suffer periodic water damage, or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and end them. First, we have to terminate the war on trees that began in Colonial times when it was said a squirrel could have made it from the Atlantic Coast to the Mississippi River without ever setting foot on the ground. No contractor should be allowed to cut down quality trees to make way for construction of more building space if that person is buying the land on speculation. If the would-be builder is already the property owner, he or she should be encouraged to build upward rather than outward. Large deciduous trees are the greatest agents of transfer of carbon dioxide into oxygen, and these trees should be rendered untouchable by municipal ordinance and common decency. When removed because they are dead or dying, the trees should be replaced immediately. Second, we have to lose artificial turf. Ridgewood took runoff from two artificial turf fields and got near-Floyd level flooding from rainfall that was nowhere near as frantic as Floyd. I drove through parts of both storms, and Irene was nowhere near as severe and wouldn’t have caused the same flooding if the water had anywhere else to go. I’ll tell you a secret: Athletes hate artificial turf. Being the brave people they are, they may say it’s no big deal, but according to my spies, they burst into curses when they find out they’re going to be playing on artificial turf. If it’s not there, don’t install it. If it’s there, don’t replace it. If it’s possible, get rid of it. Third, we have to get rid of the lawn. When Americans came out of the Great Depression and back from World War II and the Korean War, most of them wanted a house in the suburbs with a lawn for the kids to play on and for fathers to fuss over. Think of the characters in the TV shows about suburban families that were so popular in the 1950s. “Leave It to Beaver” and “My Three Sons” were the emblems of that era – so much so that when dissident peaceniks wanted to jar the American public to its grass roots, they put out the word that “Beaver” had been killed in Vietnam. They lied. Jerry Mathers served honorably in the Air National Guard, survived the Vietnam War unscathed, and is still alive, as is his older brother “Wally.” Killing off “Beaver” was the worst thing anybody could think of, but getting rid of the manicured lawn isn’t in the same ballpark. Those lawns that aren’t used for croquet or badminton have to go. Shorn grass is second only to asphalt in its ability to shed water. Planting more trees so the crowns interlock, with ferns or ground-cover plants in the shade, replacing grass with plants, or simply letting the grass grow as nature intended could reduce downstream flooding in a single season. Last but not least: Global warming is real. People who concoct the arguments against it may capitalize on the fact that some global warming advocates are unpopular, but basically, the lack of evidence for global warming is cut from the same cloth as the lack of evidence for the argument that cigarette smoking doesn’t cause lung cancer. Look behind either argument and you’ll find somebody laughing while he or she counts his or her money. Put away that lawnmower, quit laying asphalt, and plant trees instead of cutting them down. By the time you read this, Ridgewood residents will have toured the disaster zone once known as the first floor of Ridgewood Village Hall and attended a Ridgewood Council meeting where they offered opinions on whether to turn the first floor into a flood zone with only the most water-resistant fixtures. The first floor contains the Ridgewood Senior Center. All scheduled events there have been canceled through the end of this month. The first floor also contains the long-awaited Ridgewood Youth Center. These rooms were intentionally rather sparsely furnished because, when the whole first floor went under during Tropical Storm Floyd, and was threatened during a subsequent storm that turned the parking lot into a moat, people understood that the ground floor was not a great place for sensitive electronic equipment. Right now, it’s suited mostly for rest rooms, which snapped right back after Hurricane Irene. Ridgewood’s troubles sometimes evoke smirks of envy among citizens of other towns, but the rest of us had better get over it. Ridgewood’s problem belongs to everyone. Specifically, the problem is too much asphalt on roofs and roads and too few trees to draw water back into the soil. The expanded global problem, caused by carbon emissions and the destruction of forests all over the world, means the flood damage Northwest Bergen County experienced during Hurricane Irene and during Tropical Storm Floyd are not catastrophes out of a disaster movie. They are becoming a regular occurrence. The same storm that dumped five feet of water into Ridgewood Village Hall left about five inches in my own basement. The water drained in a day, but it knocked out the pilot light in my water heater and dirtied up the gas flow. When the technician showed up, he told us there were so many similar circumstances in other houses that everybody who could do the job was working 14 hours a day. Some places he had visited had water that reached the living areas and damaged thousands of dollars worth of furniture. Some problems cannot be cured with an influx of state or federal money. If you leave papers sticking out of a holder in passages where people walk, those papers are going to fall. If you have a multi-town area where the rainwater cannot seep back into the ground, it’s going to go into your basement. Simple science trumps convoluted politics. You cannot talk your way around it. You need to act. Uphill from Ridgewood is Wyckoff’s Rambaut Lake, a 7.5-acre body of water surrounded by 21 residential homes that enjoy a spectacular view. Rambaut Lake was the center of a private community named Beekmere, where home buyers were asked to sign an agreement to share in whatever it took to maintain the lake. As time went by, more and more towns developed swimming pools, some residents built them in their yards, and the concept of private communities dwindled in popularity. By 1985, the Beekmere community was history and new home buyers were no longer to sign the agreement to maintain the lake when they moved into the neighborhood. Northwest Bergen’s decision: Become a forest -- or a swamp In praise of motherhood Chapter #40 of Mothers & More Bergen County recently sponsored a booth at the Ridgewood Street Fair. Mothers & More is a non-profit organization dedicated to improving the lives of mothers through support, education, and advocacy. They address mothers’ needs as individuals and members of society, and promote the value of all the work mothers do. Pictured: Kathe Kaine, Sinead Rundell, and Dawn Hancock.