A view of the the woods outside Ralph Gardner Jr.’s home in Columbia County in New York. Walking through the forest, he writes, reinforces the notion that you’re part of something larger than yourself.
A view of the the woods outside Ralph Gardner Jr.’s home in Columbia County in New York. Walking through the forest, he writes, reinforces the notion that you’re part of something larger than yourself.
GHENT, N.Y. — There’s been a certain amount of controversy lately about U.S. News and World Report’s influential college rankings system.
In their latest survey, Columbia University dropped from 2nd to 18th place after a Columbia professor accused the school of submitting dubious statistics.
The controversy generated the expected number of think pieces, including from the New York Times, all of which came to the same essential conclusion: it doesn’t really matter whether the rating system is accurate or not; it’s going to remain hugely influential.
I remember attending the annual Middlebury College alumni holiday party in the not too distant past and listening as the college’s president rejoiced over the school’s ascent several slots in the rankings that year. I found his excitement somewhat unseemly. But, hey, I also check out my alma mater’s rating and whether it went up or down since the previous year.
The unfortunate fact is that simplistic rating systems appeal to something fundamental in the human psyche. Can one really say that Middlebury, ranked the nation’s 11th best liberal arts college, is worse than Williams at No. 1 or better than Kenyon College in Ohio, where both my daughters went and had excellent experiences, at No. 31? Or than a public college?
We may not care to admit it but we’re social status seeking animals and there’s no more expeditious way to keep score than listicles. Offer me a story of the 25 most beautiful beaches in the world or the 400 wealthiest Americans and I’m probably going to click on it.
We’re getting to the point, what with apps collecting dating on everything from our shopping habits to our heart rates, when we’ll be able to rank anything, including our lawns and trees and how they compare to our neighbors. We may already have arrived there.
What prompts this column isn’t some fever dream, but a story from a special Time magazine health issue that I read recently in a doctor’s office. Where else are you going to read a publication like that except in a doctor’s office where you’re a captive audience and waiting for your doctor to dismiss you after your colonoscopy? By the way, he gave my colon a 10. Or I suppose if U.S. News had rated it a No. 1 or No. 2.
The issue, which included stories about whether grief affects your microbiome and how to get healthier dopamine highs, also included this apparently innocuous story: “What green spaces and nature can do to your mood.”
That isn’t exactly untrammeled territory. Perhaps you’re familiar with forest bathing? The concept originated in Japan. It doesn’t mean schlepping a bathtub into the woods. It’s the theory that immersing yourself in nature is good for the body as well as the soul. It significantly reduced scores for anxiety, anger, depression, confusion and fatigue. There we go with scores again.
That’s also according to a New York State Department of Environmental Conservation web page that includes an impressive number of links to academic papers. And here I thought the job of the New York state DEC was to distribute deer hunting permits.
But what caught my attention about the story — admittedly I was still a little groggy from the anesthesia — was this sentence: “When it comes to seeking happiness, the quality of the green space matters more than the quantity.” The story goes on: “Merely having vegetation doesn’t guarantee a positive experience… Some research has linked specific types of green spaces — broadleaf woods, parks that feature water, and areas with significant biodiversity, for example — to good health.”
As the craven individual that I believe I’ve already established myself to be I immediately wondered what Victoria Houlden, a research associate at Newcastle University in England cited in the Time story would think of my woods. Houlden is the author of a study that used census data to measure how much green space people had access to.
I think I can speak for most of the readers of this publication when I say that we’re extremely fortunate in the Berkshires and the Hudson Valley to be surrounded by what I have to believe is some of the highest quality verdure around.
But frankly, I’m less concerned and far less possessive about communal nature — places like national or state parks and conservation areas — than I am about my own discreet patch of paradise; even though we don’t have a backyard in the conventional sense. We have a house and a lawn; the lawn my environmentally correct daughter frequently harangues me to let revert to nature. We’re also surrounded on all sides by ever encroaching woods.
Were U.S. News or Forbes magazine, which probably pioneered this poison with its Forbes 400 richest Americans, seeking more revenue I’d suggest a special issue devoted to something like “The 500 Most Biologically Diverse Private Properties east of the Mississippi” or “The 1,000 Best Backyard Swimming Pools.” It wouldn’t be that hard to accumulate the data. France tax authorities recently employed AI, that’s artificial intelligence, to spot 20,000 undeclared swimming pools.
I’m already ahead of the game. I’ve had visits from both the DEC and our local land conservancy who declared themselves impressed with our wetlands. Until recently, I thought of them as mosquito breeding swamps. Now I discover that they’re impressively free of invasive species as well as serving on the front line in combatting climate change by improving water quality and controlling flooding. That’s probably worth 10 points.
We also have a modest pond that experts from the New York Botanical Garden, who I cajoled into visiting for a story while writing for the Wall Street Journal, pronounced in robust health. Add 5 five points for that, more if it were a larger body of water.
There’s also a huge sycamore buried in our woods. It’s around 18 feet in diameter. But not a record holder. I know because the DEC measured it and keeps a big tree registry. There’s one in Duchess County at 27 feet that dwarfs ours. But our specimen must be worth a point or two.
Of course, all of this is crazy. One of the benefits of walking through the forest, whether ours, someone else’s or public property, isn’t mentioned in that Time magazine story. But it’s probably the most important. Ultimately, the woods don’t belong to you, even if you’re paying property taxes.
You’re just its steward for a moment in time. Walking through it also reinforces the notion that you’re part of something larger than yourself. And whatever that something is, it doesn’t keep score.
Ralph Gardner Jr. is a journalist whose work has appeared in the Wall Street Journal, the New York Times and The New Yorker. He can be reached at ralph@ralphgardner.com. The opinions expressed by columnists do not necessarily reflect the views of The Berkshire Eagle.
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