As we were walking, we came across a work crew doing some concrete patching. They had done a couple of small patches and, while that was curing, they were power washing some cracks and sealing them up. This wasn’t an “onstage” area—the guest area within one of the theme parks—but a walkway between two resorts, the Dolphin/Swan and the Boardwalk. I took a couple photos and then reassured them I was an engineer on vacation, not someone checking up on their work (which seemed just fine, for what it’s worth).

Look at those patches. One was about 12 square feet and the other about 2. That’s about 5 cubic feet of concrete—a little more than a wheelbarrow full. It’s an amount you could purchase at a local hardware store and mix together with a garden hose. No big deal.

My daughter wanted to know why I snapped that picture (especially since all my other pictures included her) and that caused us to talk about what it takes to maintain a sidewalk. Not much in terms of effort; just a commitment to doing it. Then we talked about the condition of the sidewalks in our city back home. She’s a smart kid and got it right away.

“Dad, why doesn’t our city fix the sidewalks before they fall apart?”

It was Steve Mouzon who first told me that a place needed to be lovable, that we only maintain that which we love. I never learned anything about “lovability” in my undergraduate course on concrete structures, and I know of no engineering manual that references it, yet I’ve found Steve’s insight to be an undeniable truth.

I love my house—and have deep respect for the resources that went into building it, as well as the amount of effort it will take to retire my mortgage—and so I maintain it. I don’t wait for concrete to fall apart before patching it. I don’t wait for the siding to rot before repainting it. I don’t wait for the roof to leak before maintaining it.

Why Local Governments Don’t Put Maintenance First