I have commented before on my love for the album “The Harsh Light Of Day” by American alternative band Fastball. As is often the case, having a successful album (featuring two hits in “The Way” and “Out Of My Head”) allowed the band the budget to explore their sound further, and despite leading off the album cycle with the bright and sunny “You’re An Ocean,” most of the album was more melancholy and reflective, with songs like “Love Is Expensive And Free,” album closer “Funny How It Fades Away,” “Vampires,” and “Dark Street.” Sometimes popular success isn’t all it is cracked up to be, and despite having sold millions of copies and briefly becoming a popular and well-known band, Fastball appears to be one of the bands that took it somewhat hard and did not find life in the spotlight an enjoyable place to be. I do not wish to talk about metaphorical dark streets, though melancholy is certainly something I am well acquainted with.

Instead, I would like to talk about literal dark streets. Just as I am no stranger to melancholy, I am no stranger to literal darkness either. The reasons for dark streets differ, as not all dark streets are created equal. Growing up, I was familiar with dark streets, but thought nothing particularly strange about it, seeing as I grew up in the countryside and there are few lights that one needs apart from the moon and stars, and whatever light one brings for oneself, in such areas. Aside from the possibility of creature encounters, for the most part, rural dark streets are not the kind that fill most people with fear, at least those people who grow up and are on at least decent terms with the neighbors. If one is not from around there, though, darkness in general can be highly disorienting and threatening, and people can get spooked by their own shadows and by the noises that they make themselves pretty easily.

Urban dark streets, though, are scary for people far more justifiably than rural dark streets. The higher density of population and the greater likelihood of there being people who would take advantage of the darkness to lie in wait for the unsuspecting and unwary makes dark streets in the urban jungle far more disconcerting and frightening than for those who live in the country. It is not obvious why there need to be many dark streets in the city. Cities are, at least in the West, known for an incredible amount of light pollution. A lot of this is done expressly for the safety of pedestrians (and drivers) on city streets. Where there is a regular source of power, one can expect that city streets will have a high degree of lighting so that the people who traverse those streets will feel safe. Whether or not they will be any safer is an open question, but in life, the feeling of safety is far more of a pressing matter and far more within the power of authorities than the reality of safety, which is a far chancier matter, more difficult to compute or even to estimate reliably.

There is a dark street, of a sort, that I traverse fairly often, and like many dark streets, it has its own story and its own reason for being. I happen to live in unincorporated Washington County, Oregon, although it is a built-up area that is clearly viewed as being part of suburban Portland. Most Sunday nights, I take a walk from where I live to nearby restaurants, as a way to combine a bit of exercise as well as supporting local eateries. The strip mall where the restaurants I frequent happens to be part of an incorporated city, presumably because of the tax base of the businesses located there, but the driveway that goes uphill from the strip mall to the neighboring street, which I use to access the area, is not lit at all, because it does not happen to be either a street or part of an incorporated area, and so it makes for an interesting experience, as I walk uphill in the dark, my eyes peeled for shapes in the dim light that shines from the nearby parking lot, which is well lit. The few times I have seen people, most of them have been in a hurry to avoid me, which ought to be comforting but is not always so.

There are many ways that people know their area is not really wanted or appreciated. Dark streets is one of those ways. When people have to walk along dark streets while knowing that most of the streets in other parts of cities are well-lit, they can tell that other people, those people who make decisions about roads and lighting and the like, do not care about their well-being or safety. The same is true for other decisions that are made, such as allowing potholes to remain on roads where people drive without paving them, driving on dangerous bridges that are not well-maintained, or driving alongside bridges and buildings that are defaced with graffiti. In all of these cases–and no doubt other ones–the visible or obvious exterior state of disrepair is a sign to the people around that they do not matter and that the places where they live do not consider it worthwhile to spend money building improvements or maintaining infrastructure in their area. And people know, and remember, when they are not well regarded, however little they are thought of by others.