By Jay Walljasper
The neighborhood is the fundamental organizing principle of human society, and practical efforts to save the planet start right there. Whether a rural village in India, a suburban subdivision in California, or a bohemian quarter in Berlin, neighborhoods shape people’s lives in powerful and surprising ways.
Like a lot of journalists, I was slow in recognizing these facts. I spent so much time looking into promising events everywhere else in the world, from Eastern Europe to Silicon Valley, that I overlooked positive possibilities of my own backyard in Minneapolis.
I finally realized what I was missing, ironically, a long way from my home. My wife Julie and I spent a week in Paris on our honeymoon, arriving with big plans to cover every inch of the city from the modern towers of La Defense to the Arab district around Rue du Faubourg du Temple. Yet we found ourselves passing entire days within just a few blocks of our hotel in the Latin Quarter. We’d stroll the boulevards, buy lunch in a street market, wander through the Luxembourg Gardens and while away the evenings in sidewalk cafes. We agreed the Pompidou Centre and Versailles could wait for another trip. We were immersed in the life of our “urban village.”
Like most newlyweds, Julie and I came home from our honeymoon with thoughts of buying a house. And, of course, we sought a place that had the feel of Paris, even if it was a Midwestern tavern on the corner instead of a sidewalk café. The problem was that many other folks around town had the same idea, and all the neighborhoods that attracted us were out of our price range. So we stayed put for more than four years in a one-bedroom apartment in Minneapolis’s lively Uptown district, which did feel like an urban village to us.
Finally we fell in love with an old house, brimming with natural woodwork and turn-of-the-20th-century charm, and took the plunge. Our new neighborhood, Kingfield, was pleasant, with tree-lined streets and well-built homes, but the noticeable lack of streetlife made moving there feel a bit like a step away from our dream. When a burglar broke into our house in broad daylight just a few months later, brazenly eating a bowl of cereal at the kitchen table before leaving with our valuables, we wondered if we’d made a terrible mistake.
Luckily, we fell in with a group of neighbors, mostly newcomers like us, who got together on Friday nights for potluck suppers. We would trade stories about remodeling projects and backyard gardens as well as our desire for more places to go and things to do in Kingfield. We also compared notes on the nagging crime problem. These discussions eventually led us to get involved with local issues–especially after the city unveiled plans to widen an already busy street in the neighborhood, which would mean faster, more dangerous traffic and declining property values. Julie soon became the president of the neighborhood board and we regularly joined our friends at public meetings to voice our visions for the future Kingfield.
Gradually we watched Kingfield change, bearing a closer resemblance to the urban village where we dreamed of living. The proposal to widen the avenue was defeated, thanks to the efforts of people from many neighborhoods, and our success became an inspiration to other people around town opposing wrongheaded road projects. New businesses, including a number of cafes, opened. Citizen safety initiatives along with increasing street life helped reduce the crime rate. Today, Kingfield sports a farmers’ market, reinvigorated business districts, local arts shows, housing improvements in its low-income blocks, and new community anchors for the growing Latino population.
A pumpkin grows in Minneapolis: The Kingfield Farmers' Market brings the neighborhood together Sunday mornings.
Julie and I, and our son Soren, can now stroll around to corner to the sidewalk tables at Caffe Tempo for a croissant or ice cream cone–something that’s possible only because we and dozens of neighbors turned out for a public meeting where we demanded that zoning rules be amended so the café could open. I now proudly tell people I live in Kingfield, rather than “someplace south of Uptown” and many of them nod approvingly.
Ever since my teens, I have been involved in a number of social causes, ranging from national political campaigns to international environmental initiatives. Out of these efforts–some successful and most of them at least inspiring–nothing has yielded the lasting results and been more fun than what’s happened in my neighborhood. Issues that seem overwhelming such as climate change, sprawl or economic injustice can be effectively tackled close to home. That’s because the people who live in a particular locale are the experts on that place, with the wisdom and commitment to get things done.
Adapted from the preface of Great Neighborhood Book
