Where the Sidewalk Ends, Community Begins--Two Related Stories, and An Announcement

Story #1

This is Mike Berry (right), a Civics teacher at Dunwoody High School, and Graham Goldberg, a rising senior and member of the Student Government Association, and a seemingly insurmountable mound of mulch. They were among the handful of people who turned up Saturday morning to finish building a path on Barclay Road by Peachtree Middle School so that the cross-country track team would have a place to run.

As Bruce Anderson swung an ax at tree roots in the way, Kevin Cameron told me how they had a PowerPoint presentation all ready to show the middle school principal about why it was important to provide a safe path for running, but also how they had noticed that walkers had taken to walking in the middle of this winding road so that cars would see them.

They never had to show the presentation because once they shared their intention, the principal said, "Okay." And in a shockingly short amount of time, wheelbarrow-after-wheelbarrow full of free wood chips, raked by a team of two at the end of the path, was spread, its composting heat warm on our feet.

So now, where there is no sidewalk, there is a safe, wide path for walking and running. Thanks to people who saw a need and simply made it happen.

Story #2

I wasn't even going to tell you this story, but it is so heartwarming to me. It involves three very special people in our city. The first is a man named Bob Lundsten. I crossed paths with this man many times in the past year although I had yet to meet him personally. Bob was vehemently opposed to the farmers market at St. Patricks, not because of the farmers market but because of its proposed location in a residentially-zoned neighborhood. The fact that Bob was against this location carried tremendous weight, I noticed. Also, I saw his passion and purpose on display many times at City Council, Planning Commission, Dunwoody Homeowners Association and Comprehensive Plan Steering Committee meetings. When I needed advice recently about the best way for me to help our city when faced with a particular roadblock that almost had me packing my bags and hightailing it out of civic involvement, I couldn't shake the thought, "I wonder what Bob would suggest."

And so we met, and within about six seconds I realized this man is the absolute salt of the earth. Bob gave me advice that may just change my life (oh, forget the "may"-it already has). And he also told me that what he likes to do best is hear an objective and figure out how to make it happen.

At the same time, there is a City Council member named Robert Wittenstein who shares my . . . okay, let's call it obsession for urban agriculture (although he may just want to ride a golf cart from farm to garden!). We have been emailing and talking about community gardens since the first time I met him way back before he was even elected. (Danny Ross and John Heneghan have been in a number of these conversations as well.) For every idea I've had, Robert has shot back five.

Enter Rebecca Barria, an absolutely lovely young mother and a high school gifted program teacher, who had never been to a City Council meeting. She emailed me to say she wanted to start a community garden.

Long story short, although it all happened within mere weeks. All these people, plus others, got together. Several locations were explored, but all roads led to Brook Run (past the dog park, on the other side of the street, where the sidewalk ends), where we as a community have been told over and over that we can do nothing new until we gain stewardship of the parks as a City.

Yet . . . these people of positive intention pushed on, adding their particular expertise and influence to the equation (enter the Bills--McCahan and Robinson--of the Brook Run Conservancy, and Don Converse of Citizens for Dunwoody). Documents were written. Diagrams sketched. Phone calls and face-to-face meetings occurred in Dunwoody and elswhere in DeKalb. And last night, Rebecca, who was seated next to Bob, stood up at her first City Council meeting and said, "I'd like to encourage you to support the resolution to start a community garden at Brook Run Park." This resolution is important because it lets DeKalb County know that the City is in agreement with this proposed initiative and it therefore won't become an issue during park ownership negotiations if the garden is allowed to happen (although the garden may eventually need to be moved).

The resolution passed. Will DeKalb approve it? We'll know soon. We've heard they've halted four other plans for community gardens as they establish a county-wide policy, so there's reason to think they won't. Yet Bob is involved. And that makes me feel like anything is possible.

And that brings me to my point, about both these stories. As the Goethe quote hanging in my office states:

Whatever you can do, or dream you can,
begin it.

Boldness has genius, power,
and magic in it.

What is it that you want to accomplish? With whom do you need to get together? What first step can you take today?

I leave you with the first stanza of Shel Silverstein's famous poem, Where the Sidewalk Ends, because from what I've seen recently, where the sidewalks ends, community begins.

Where the Sidewalk Ends

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Email Rebecca at dunwoodygarden@gmail.com if you want to be involved with the Dunwoody Community Garden if it is approved by DeKalb County--especially if you have materials you can donate for a deer fence!

An Announcement

And that leads me to where I am on my own personal and professional path. This week is the one-year anniversary of when we voted to become a city--and when I started this blog, intended as a front-row seat to reporting decisions the newest city in the United States of America makes about sustainability (I never intended to actually get involved--funny how things happen).

Recently, several intriguing opportunities have emerged for me. I need to hear my calling more clearly in regards to these potentially life-changing opportunities, and will be taking a hiatus from writing this blog until September 1. I will continue to write FoodShed Planet each Sunday, to post little updates on Twitter, which run in the sidebar of this blog (click here if you are getting this via email), and to write my monthly column in New Life Journal (here is the latest). I also write a small business marketing blog for Kudzu.com twice a week, if you are (or want to be) a small business owner. (Local businesses, by the way, keep about 45 cents out of every dollar circulating in the local community, as opposed to about 14 cents of every dollar for national companies.)

I'll be back on September 1 to share where the path has taken me--and to find out where it has taken you.