How to build community - getting a few out of the way

Now nearly half way through 2015, I've been pondering my New Year's Resolution and want to take stock and see what else I can check off my list.

• Turn off your TV
  Done. Well, sort of. I haven't owned a television for nearly a decade, and Jay and I sold his TV when we left our apartment three years ago. And while I did own a TV for awhile, I haven't regularly watched "broadcast" or cable TV in decades. The last time I recall actually sitting down to purposefully watch TV was in Milwaukee and a gang of us watched "The X-Files" on Sunday nights. We got together an hour before for a pot luck, watched the show and called it a night. It was a delightfully social evening. I'm not a Luddite. Jay and I enjoy watching Star Trek shows and movies on Netflix. These are measured doses perhaps twice a week. No ads. 40 minutes. Together time. I can't imagine my life with any more TV than that.

• Look up when you are walking
  I made a decision about a year ago not to look at my phone, nor listen to music, while walking around. I want to see what and who is around me.  I want people to see me. And when my head is looking down or I've got music in my earbuds, I may as well be invisible. And I'm too interested in my surroundings and the people in them to disappear.
  
  My neighborhood, city, state and world are too wonderful not to notice and relish.

Do you have any thoughts about how limiting television or screen time helps build community?

How to build community - greet people

The proposed Mifflin Street Little Free Museum.

My 2015 New Year's Resolution is to work through the popular "How to build community" poster. This week, "Greet people."

Last week, my friend Liz stopped over to pick me up to go to a community theater production. She asked to come over early so we could walk around the gardens and visit the chicken coop together. As we were approached the front yard, Dave waved from across the street. A few minutes later, we talked with our next door neighbor Matt about his newest project, a Little Free Museum.

As we drove away, Liz remarked that her neighborhood was similarly friendly, chatty and open to conversation. She contrasted this with a story a friend of hers related not long ago. He had been visiting Liz and noticed how friendly people were, that they gardened together, had shared backyards for pets and children and even had community meals together.

His neighborhood, however, isn't as friendly. He told Liz that neighbors didn't greet one another, they didn't look up when they were walking around and to top it off, dogs had to have DNA tests done "So they could identify who's poop was being left around." My jaw dropped.

"Seriously?" I asked.
"Yes," she replied.
"Who has the time to scoop poop and check it's DNA?"
"Apparently they have hired people who do that," she answered.


My first thought was that with a little more greeting, there would probably be a little less poop leaving. It's hard to let your dog leave a turd on the lawn of someone you've gotten to know, who you'll see tomorrow or the next day, who will wave across the street.

My second thought was that some people simply don't want what Liz and I like about our respective neighborhoods. And, that's ok. However, there is growing evidence that as society moves toward more online "social" interactions, we're missing actual human contact and some people end up feeling lonely.

A simple hello across the fence or across the street could turn into a delightful, social interaction.

How to build community - A Little Orchard

I have the coolest neighbors on the coolest block in Madison.

Before Jay and I bought our house on Mifflin Street, I knew I wanted to install a Little Free Library in the front yard of our future home. During the first spring at our new house, Marilou, our neighbor across the street, let the block know she was planning to build one. Little Free Library (charter #2805) AWESOME!

That same summer, Rachel, our neighbor down the street installed a Little Gallery in her front yard, featuring small installations of locally created art. Rachel works with artists on monthly rotating exhibits.

This spring, our next door neighbors (and chicken co-parents) Matt and Marisa announced a kickstarter for a Little Free Museum to be installed in their front yard and feature small science and technology exhibits. There is a nice article about the project in Madison's Isthmus newspaper.

[NOTE: stop by for the June 11, 3 p.m. grand opening]

These kinds of projects remind me that community building doesn't have to take place in a community center, doesn't need a folk singer in a park or any other massive installation, intervention or investment. These slow foot traffic (and even some car traffic from what I've observed), encourage conversations and inspire inventiveness. Matt and Marisa were inspired by the gallery. And I'm inspired by them.

During our first spring at our new home we installed a front yard orchard. I've always had the vision to install a sign to explain the trees, shrubs and flowers, and point out the mostly hidden but very effective water harvesting system in place. Marilou, Rachel and Matt and Marissa have inspired me to design and install that sign.

My goal is to show people that permaculture design can be practical and beautiful, inspire people to plant perennial food crops and design yards to collect and store water in their yards.

I look forward to showing you what it looks like.

How to build community: plant flowers

Going through the list of items from the "How to build community poster," I knew there would be a couple of easy ones. Today I'll pick "Plant flowers."

When we installed the orchard I knew the trees and shrubs would eventually flower in spring, bear fruit in fall and add winter interest under the snow. As with most new construction, the orchard started out drab and sparse. When I sowed the groundcover clover seeds, I mixed in a variety of marigold and zinnia seeds, wishing them well as they fluttered to the ground, and hoping at least some would germinate on their own.

The terrace, as we call the strip between the sidewalk and the street here in Madison, was also a barren canvas on which to plant some flowers, and I threw down several packets of perennial seed mixes with the hope that a few would germinate and show some summertime color. 

And then there are the alyssum plants that my neighbor added to our front yard orchard. I planted them at the bottom of the driveway and they grew into wonderful pillows of white and purple flowers.

That summer, many marigold and zinnia seeds germinated and flowered, and the orchard was a riot of color for several months. The terrace seeds also germinated and are now a perennial source of beauty and pollen where in the past there was nothing but grass.



So how does planting flowers build community? I think there's a number of ways flowers add to a neighborhood. The first is it slows people down. I think that flowers can soften the hardest of hearts and slow down the fastest drivers, even if for a brief glance upon their soft and delicate aspect.

I think planting flowers shows passersby that this is a place where the owner respects not only the soil but the neighborhood, the bees and all other things that benefit from beauty. Is it possible that it's more difficult to throw trash among flowers than upon bare soil or a gravel lot?

Flowers, or anything beautiful for that matter, offer something to talk about. "What is that flower?," or "Have you smelled of this one?" I think children are innately curious about the beauty of flowers and we can all (re)learn to stop and smell them once in a while.

Flowers also add diversity to the landscape, in my case, breaking up patch after patch of mown grass, adding some height, some color, some scent, home to  insects and refuge for birds.

But most of all, I think flowers offers refuge for the human mind to land on and pause and wonder, for just a moment, at the beauty of a plant that comes from a seed to become a flower for all to enjoy, even if just for that moment it's looked at.

 

How to build community: organize a block party

Early in 2015, I shared my New Year's resolution to follow the suggestions on a poster titled "How to build community." I also explained that I intend to report how things go along the way.

Sometime in January I got the idea to organize a mid-winter block party. In winter, people pull into their garages and scurry into their homes; dog walkers move fast, looking down to protect their faces from the wind; and no one is outside lounging around or taking time to wave at passersby. I miss all of that activity, I miss my neighbors. 

 

The idea was to stand around a bonfire for an hour, and then go inside to play games. My neighbor Chris offered her fire pit, and neighbor James offered dry wood.

I like to create environment, and be outrageously welcoming when I throw a party. So I created some ice lumières and lit up the sidewalk and our driveway. Jay and I collected curbside Christmas trees, and  we chopped them up for the fire. I lit the candles, warmed up apple cider and got out the s'mores ingredients. And at 7 o'clock I suddenly got that sinking feeling that I had just planned a party and no one was going to show up.

Logically I knew this wasn't the case because several of my neighbors had told me they would come by. The bitter weather had passed for a moment, and it was fairly pleasant standing in the dark. And then the thought came to me, I wasn't doing this for anyone else. I was doing it for me because I wanted to spend some time outside, with the winter chill defeated with a fire. And I had invited people to join me if they wanted to.

Right around then, Jay walked down the driveway, and joined me and the crackling pine cones our neighbor gave us as fire starters. It didn't take long for my dark fears to be swept away when a couple of boys from the block, dressed to play in the snow, stepped onto the sidewalk and walked toward the fire.

People started to arrive and joined me around the firepit. We sipped hot apple cider and agreed how good it was. One child took me up in the offer of s'mores.

I enjoyed my time outside, and it takes a lot for me to say that between November and March. We all agreed we missed one another and it was good to get together. And I got to remember, and will recall this moment throughout the year, that I'm primarily doing this "how to build community" activity for me, and others get to enjoy it along with me.

From left: Dan, Jenny, Dan, Tricia, Tim, Geoff, Tilly, Chris and me. Jay took the photo, and four children were playing in the snow - Jase, Cole, Clara and Mercy. Melissa and her father had already come and gone when we took the photo, and Chet and Abigail hadn't yet arrived.

How to build community - organize a block party

My 2015 New Year's Resolution is to do each of the community-building activities listed in the poster at right. It will be fun and exciting, and to be realistic probably disappointing and difficult at times. So my goal is to write about what I'm planning to do and then another post about what actually happened.

The first idea is to organize a mid-winter block party. Why? I miss my neighbors. And I really don't like winter. So sitting around a fire pit, in the winter, with my neighbors seems the logical thing to do.

In the summer, I visit with my neighbors as they walk by while I'm in the orchard, or watching the chickens during "outside time," or simply sitting on the porch having dinner with Jay.

In the winter, dogs are let in the backyard, people's heads are down to protect from the cold and I'm sure not outside for any length of time to catch people while they're scurrying by.

So why not have a mid-winter block party and defy the winter cold, isolation and long nights.

My neighbor Chris has a portable fire pit, so we're going to set it up on the sidewalk at the bottom of our driveway, where we'll have plenty of room for people's chairs to sit around the fire.

Jay and I are supplying s'mores fixings and hot apple cider, and are inviting people to stop by for a minute or an hour, followed by indoor board games at our house.

I'll let you know how it goes.

My graduate school essay

I am applying to the Edgewood College Sustainability Leadership masters program. Part of the application is an essay. I wrote about my background, what I hope to bring to the program and what I hope to take from it. While I haven't heard if I've been accepted or not, it's a nice little essay I thought you'd enjoy reading.

When I was five, my middle-class, college-educated parents left Milwaukee to buy 100 acres of sloping, rocky farmland in western Wisconsin. They wanted to nurture my two brothers and me in a rural community away from suburbs and, as my mom says, “…kids that had too much.” Farming the land and raising animals was a means to this end.

Theirs was a daring adventure into the unknown: two teachers with three young sons leaving home, family and job security with little more than a sense of curiosity and the experience of one year living in a farmhouse and paying rent by caring for the animals.

It turns out, however, they weren’t the only ones on this particular adventure. Unbeknownst to my parents, they relocated us into the middle of a small and enthusiastic community of back-to-the-landers who had moved to western Wisconsin for their own reasons. That community of homesteaders influenced my life immeasurably, particularly seeing that there are alternatives to traditional ways farming and family life.

I am applying to the Edgewood College Sustainability Leadership Graduate Program because this would be my daring adventure to learn new ways live and lead, sustainably.

I bring to the program the same passion that moved my parents to cast aside the familiar and try something new. I’m curious what further study in sustainability leadership will mean for me personally and professionally. I’m interested in applying what I learn on the block where I live, my neighborhood, city and beyond.

I bring decades of gardening work—picking produce from the family’s gardens, and preserving food for the winter at my mom’s side. These experiences instilled an appreciation for fresh-picked produce and home-preserved food. From these early experiences, I bring a keen awareness of the importance of food security and justice, and the inseparable relationship between sustainability and the environment to provide for human and animal needs.

I also bring more than 10 years of traditional farming experience—raising many pigs and the occasional sheep, goats, chickens, cows and a pony; planting and harvesting hay, oats and corn; and nurturing the land with large-scale tree planting and forest maintenance projects.

More recently, I bring leadership experience gained from four years leading my workplace employee community garden. As a leader, I organize, coach and encourage gardeners to maintain and improve our community garden and orchard. I regularly teach organic gardening practices and develop the next group of garden leaders. I am a long-term planner and short-term doer—qualities that will serve me well in a graduate program.

I also bring eight months of study for the Permaculture Design Certificate, which I received from the Madison Area Permaculture Guild in 2013. To say this course changed my life would be an understatement: my life path was indelibly altered thanks to the reading, videos and hands-on work, and the students and instructors I met. I bring systems thinking, which reinforces what I learned on the farm—people, plants, animals and place are deeply connected.

Finally, I bring the support of my family and my workplace. My husband and I have discussed how my participating in the program will require changes in our lives, both in terms of time for classes and study; and funds for tuition. I have his support for this endeavor. My employer, American Family Insurance, and my manager also support my participation. My company’s employee education reimbursement program will cover a portion of my tuition.

Balancing what I bring to the Sustainability Leadership Program, there are things to take—or perhaps borrow, as my dad would advise me. One spring day during the very early years of our being on the farm, my dad met a man new to the area. Rikardo asked Dad how he had gotten to know so many of “the locals.” Dad replied, “Ask your neighbor to borrow a tool, and return it in better shape than you got it.” Two days later, Rikardo came to our farm and asked to borrow a tool; this began a 30-year friendship.

Image credit:

Text: Members Syracuse Cultural Workers Community

Artist: Karen Kerney, watercolor. SCW© 1998

Throughout the program I will borrow new ideas, theories, facts and opinions from instructors, books and classmates, add my own thinking and share them with others. I will also take the challenge to read and hear these ideas with an open mind. Some things I learn will be big theoretical ideas, and others will be practical and immediately useable. I look forward to incorporating them into life.

During the last year, I interviewed seven graduates, and they all mentioned that one of the best parts of the program was building new relationships. Some connections helped them throughout the program; others turned into lasting friendships or professional relationships. I’m very excited to forge new relationships and strengthen existing ones during the program. 

 

Professionally, there are many opportunities to take and apply what I learn. From my community garden leadership to the people and projects I currently work with at my job, there are ample ways to incorporate further sustainability practices.

There are many ways I will incorporate what I learn into my personal life as well. Have you read the poster “How to build community?” My 2015 New Year’s Resolution is to do each of the suggestions on the poster, and write about the experience at blog.joshuafeyen.com.

I’m curious to see which of the suggestions I’m drawn to and which I’m apt to shy away from. Since the Edgewood College Sustainability Leadership Program starts halfway through this year-long effort, I’m interested to see how I can apply what I learn toward accomplishing my resolution.

Finally, I’m interested in incorporating what I learn and the relationships I build  into my long-term vocation. While the actual details are uncertain, I know that what I give to and take from the program will benefit me and others for the rest of my life, much as being raised on a farm in a community of alternative thinkers did 30 years ago.