NEIGHBORHOODS

By Mirinda Gibbons, Newsletter Co-editor

On February 27, 2003 , Mr. Fred Rogers passed away.  As a child I loved Mr. Rogers, until I went to kindergarten and found out that he wasn’t cool.  They say it takes a village to raise a child and he was a part of the village I knew.  The show is titled “Mr. Rogers Neighborhood” and I always felt he was directing his plea to me when he would sing, “Won't you be mine, won't you be mine, won't you be my neighbor.”   Mr. Rogers’s neighborhood has a speedy delivery mailman whom everyone knows, and a trolley to take you where you want to go, and a king who lives in a castle, and is child sized. 

At that time my neighborhood began and ended on the corners of the street where I lived.  That was as far as I was allowed to walk alone.  Neighborhood meant cars slowed down as they turned onto the street, and you knew who lived in all the houses.  Neighborhood was were your playmates lived.  Neighborhood was the big kids who would alternately play with you or tease you until you ran away, and never knowing which.  Neighborhood was the old lady who would give you candy and stories if you knocked and asked nice.  The candy was old, the stories older and I was fascinated with her house that had many things not found in houses with kids, precious shiny things that you couldn’t touch.   Neighborhood meant if you did something wrong, your mom would know about it before you got home. 

Sometimes my Mom would take me for walks around the block where I could see other neighborhoods.  I always wondered how they were different from what I knew.  Did the kids play different games?  Did the old lady’s tell different stories, or give better candy?  Were the older kids nicer or meaner?  I just assumed that their world was a copy of mine, with the differences being the personalities of those who lived there. 

I now know that neighborhoods can be as different as people.  Different families want different lifestyles.  I also have new words to use when describing the differences between neighborhoods. You and I can intelligently debate demographics, density, road widths, cul-de-sacs, sidewalks, storm water management, street trees, and all the other details that create neighborhoods.  Whatever we conclude about the proper mix of owner occupied and rental units, in the end, a neighborhood is still a place where people live. 

It is easy to get lost in the lingo and talk about subdivisions, dwelling units, residential zones, and forget that we are helping to shape the backdrop of lives. I often find myself wondering about the village that children find themselves in today. Where are the boundaries of a Child’s world?   Who will they find within that world?  What does the word neighborhood mean to the children growing up in the communities that I have had a part in shaping? I hope that the small part I play in creating the built environment does more than just add rooftops.  I hope that what I do adds up to neighborhoods.  If I find myself living in the last subdivision you had a hand in, would you be my neighbor?