Lessons from living in the ‘hood…

I moved to my 50-year-old, 136-home, tree-shrouded neighborhood in 2002. Fortunately, I had a couple of aces up my sleeve to ease my way in - I was a walker and had an absolutely handsome dog (the luck of mutt genetics.) Walkers who were also dog lovers wanted to stop, pet the big boy, and ask about him. Oh, and yes, some actually got around to asking about me. (And some, not. Clearly the star of the show was at the end of the leash.)

But let’s move on from my 4-legged to our neighborhood 2-leggeds. Election season in the early oughts brought with it a profusion of yard signs, or laying down the scent of one’s political beliefs. Some of those so-called “scents” were complete 180’s from my preferred scent trail. Big time! However, a significant lesson was awaiting my scent orientation and accompanying judgments. Our neighborhood’s private listserv was the avenue for disseminating SOS’s from neighbors who needed help with minor house disasters. I hopped on that vehicle several times and twice, the first neighbor to show up, was someone whose yard signs I would have been thrilled to see stolen! (Yeah, yeah, still human.) He was wonderful each time, supplying a quick fix in difficult situations. Did I say wonderful? Absolutely and incredibly sweet about his interventions. (Is there an emoji for Jan hanging her head in shame?)

And then there was the “Oh no, oh no, mega-development invasion.” I was serving on the Homeowners Association Board (sucker! sucker!) and received a “courtesy” call from a representative of a mega-development. Just wanted to let us know that the mega-development proposed opening a previously closed state road through our neighborhood to their multitudinous traffic. Through our quiet, non-sidewalked, everyone using the streets for walking, running, biking, pet-walking, and having wine on occasion, neighborhood. “Hey, have a nice day!” Click went the phone. And down went my heart.

Talk about feeling powerless. My lovely passive neighborhood which I’d tried to galvanize, unsuccessfully, in the past, for food drives and other charitable efforts. My lovely passive neighborhood was going to become roadkill for a wealthy developer. Um, “spitting in the wind” was one of my more printable thoughts at that moment.

The peace and safety of our neighborhood threatened, folks dug deep and found their inner Davids, with accompanying slingshots. Goliath was unaware of the slingshot load of public shaming headed its way. I do not believe in shaming on a personal level. However, when it comes to a corporate Tyrannosaurus Rex, I reframe shaming as the teaching of accountability.

So we educated this monolith about being accountable to their new neighbors. More crudely, we publicly shamed the corporate bully up the wazoo (still trying to figure out exactly where the “wazoo” is.) We plagued them where it counted - negative PR about a development with homes for sale. That ol’ reliable bottom line. Shamed them for using their money to roll over a much older country neighborhood, and for being downright unneighborly to those of us who had lived here for many years. (So there!) Quite a few nearby neighborhoods submitted letters from their Homeowners’ Associations to our elected County decision-making body, all in support of our ‘hood. Neighbors who didn’t know each other organized car pools to the meetings of county bodies. Hoards of our neighbors (also known as VOTERS) showed up at County Commissioner meetings with their kids, using the attendance as civics lessons.

Smile. We won. No road-opening.

The fact that a previously passive neighborhood found the courage to speak their truth to power gave me hope. Neighbors who originally felt we didn’t stand a chance now had the wonderful experience of feeling empowered. Empowered! Got that? Our little neighborhood found their inner “David’s” and who knows where that discovery took each person in their own personal lives. I’ll likely never know, but I rejoice that seeds of personal empowerment were also planted. Go ‘hood!

Posted in a different form, Oct. 2022