It Takes A Neighborhood
Deborah Jackson Klein
Every shoreline begins with a grain of sand. A plant with a seed. A project's
life stems out of an idea, perhaps a fleeting thought transpired in the
wee hours of the morning. But every idea is a potential seed waiting to
spring alive.
In the cool of the Autumn nights an idea to bring together the local Neighborhood
Associations - the Isthmus Neighborhood council (INC.) - flourished under
the guidance of a few determined people. Perhaps flourished is too great
a word for this endeavor, but INC was alive- being fed by the interest,
creativity of its members with City Council Representatives who believed
in its importance.
As the months passed, I watched with wonder as the process took shape. People
coming together to determine the first of many goals- in this case a small
but important goal- a solution to the chaotic frenzy of snow removal with
its impact on parking. Not an entirely glamorous topic, but one that affects
almost every downtown resident.
The problems turned into some definitive solutions guided by the expertise
of Council members with City staffers. In the end, solid recommendations
were made. Some were even listened to! The voice of the people was heard.
Does a grain of sand make a shoreline?
As I traveled throughout Iowa in late January- helping with town hall meetings
modeled after "We the People/Wisconsin," I listened with amazement
to citizens across that state asking the government to lend its support
in bringing back our neighborhoods, our communities with our families.
Over and over I listened to the voices searching for answers. Searching
for an answer that is so basic to our core its simplicity is often overlooked.
Government can not bring back our neighborhoods. It is a task which can
only be brought to fruition by the acknowledgment and sacrifice of its people.
The process takes work, time, and energy. But it is as simple and rewarding
as sitting around a kitchen table with neighbors to define a problem and
its solution, see through its execution and realize its results.
Can a seed survive without water?
Returning to the frenzy of the snowy streets of Madison, I became disenchanted
and frustrated over what we had earlier deemed achievement of our process.
But somewhere in those snow capped streets I realized that our achievements
for last fall, however small, were far greater than imagined. We had planted
a seed. The results need not be big for success. The process just needs
to be started.
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