If Rome wasn't built in a day, could it be that someone was getting time-and-a-half? If local government had a hand in the building process, Romans would still be waiting for a blight study!

When my wife and I moved to West Hempstead some 23 years ago (seems like only 22), we were expecting our first child, and the County of Nassau was about to hold a public "scoping" session, laying out long-awaited (even then) plans to reconstruct that which is - or was - our hamlet's "Main Street," Hempstead Avenue.

Today, nearly a generation later, that first child is in graduate school, and work has finally begun - in earnest, or otherwise - on the avenue.

Its great to see the construction crews, not to mention the prospect of sewers that actually hold water, and a roadbed that doesn't resemble the lunar landscape (and let's not forget Victorian-style streetlamps, should Kate Murray deem West Hempstead worthy), but one gnawing question remains: What in the name of our county legislator took so darn long?

At the western terminus of reconstruction, there lies a passive (according to the county) park at Hall's Pond.

Since my first visit to that park back in May of 1985, I've been moved, not by the innate beauty or pastoral grandeur of this green space, but rather, by the utter state of disrepair in seeming perpetuity.

Broken benches, weed-strewn grounds, overgrown paths and a vandalized gazebo have been staples of the park with a million dollar filtration system that worked for all of an hour. A pond, the centerpiece of Hall's, is little more than an open sewer.

And today, a head of gray hairs and two environmental bond acts later, that pond, that park, remain not bucolic havens from the hustle and bustle of the avenue, but rather, reflections of the neglect and indifference of government that should do more, that could do more, but simply chooses not to.

Yes, plans are in the works to turn bond money into plowshares (or something like that). Indeed, the plans look magnificent - on paper. But just one question: What in the name of no less than two county executives is taking so darn long?

Last, but surely not least on this walk down memory lane, lying at our eastern gateway along that same stretch of avenue, is the grand lady of infamy herself - West Hempstead's Courtesy Hotel.

The war waged to shutter and raze the Courtesy is, of course, still in its infancy, going on a mere 14 years. If the Hempstead Avenue and Hall's Pond Park experiences are guideposts, we've got about another decade to go before the last assault upon decency and community takes place at this den of iniquity. You can tack on yet another 10 years for the closure of the Capri.

And again I ask, what, in the name of she of failed promises and the myopic vision of which a faulty and futile urban renewal plan is an insidious by-product, is taking so darn long?

Yes, the wheels of progress turn slowly, when they turn at all. Look, it has taken some 45 years to get from "I have a dream," and nearly twice that since women got the vote, to the point where America is poised to give moment to what most, just a year ago, considered mere pipedreams.

But we're not talking about putting a woman on the GOP ticket or electing the first African-American president of the United States. Heck, we're not even talking about lowering property taxes or reining in the special taxing districts (although we should be).

No, we're talking about fixing a road, maintaining a park, and starting to rebuild a community by closing a no-tell hotel.

What, in the name of a populace that should expect more and demand better, is taking so darn long?

Seth D. Bykofsky

(The writer, a longtime community advocate, is a former president of the West Hempstead Civic Association.)