Urbanism, Sub-urbanism, and why I’m tiring of the Streetcar debate.

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I’ve lived in Cincinnati for 8 years.

My first job was at Kaldi’s on Main Street in Over-the-Rhine. Those first few years, I spent a lot of time in the neighborhood. I met my husband there and we were married a few blocks away.

Our first apartment was in Over-the-Rhine.

We decided to plant our roots downtown for multiple reasons, many of which I won’t get into here. But, basically, we love Cincinnati and we believe that a strong urban core is the foundation of a strong city. There are other neighborhoods that we love, neighborhoods that might become our “home” someday. But, Over-the-Rhine was where our heart was.

The first two years of our marriage made me an “urbanite.”

We lived in a large, industrial loft space in a barely habitable old brewery building. Both of our work offices were a mile away. Our church was a mile away. I learned to shop on foot, in small trips. I got used to the sounds of street life. We got to know our neighbors. We learned the history of our city, the feel of the streets and alleys, the loom of the buildings as we walked by.

We didn’t do touristy, out-of-towner things in our neighborhood; we learned to live there.

When we first felt the call to purchase a home, we talked about multiple options, and multiple locations. I had one simple request: I must have either a walkable business district or lots of greenspace.

We tried to buy a monstrous estate on Dayton St. in the West End, but they refused our offer. (A friend bought it, instead.)

We looked into purchasing a dilapidated old estate tucked away in North Avondale on 2.5 acres, but they weren’t interested in us as much as we were interested in them. They wanted to “develop” the land.

We walked through a few homes in Betts-Longworth; we walked through a few in Mt Prospect.

And then we got an email from an acquaintance saying that he was selling his home in Over-the-Rhine and we called him right away.

The short version of the story is that the owner liked us. He liked that we are people of faith (like him). He liked that we were going to be raising a family in his old home, where he raised three children with his late wife. He liked that we are committed to a similar vision for the city as he had been for his 40+ years in the neighborhood. So, he reduced the price of his home to something we could afford and sold it to us.

That summer, we made the transition onto Orchard Street, which is perhaps the most beautiful street in the city. The house itself if a labor of love and a work-in-progress, but it offers plenty of space, room to grow, and everything an urban family could desire including a backyard (which will someday be functional as such).

I love our life in the city. I love the wealth of opportunities and experiences that it offers our children. I love the warmth of neighbors and passers-by. I love the architecture and parks and noise and lights. As a severe introvert, I love the ease of daily contact with other people, both friends and strangers, and the feeling of a city alive about me.

Living in the city is not always fun. It sometimes requires more work, especially with kids. So, I am sympathetic to those who say, “Oh! I could never do that!” And I am very sympathetic to parents who want a neighborhood where their young children can play outside unattended, where they can unload groceries from inside their garage, and where they don’t need to worry about issues like lead paint and air quality. And I believe that there are many legitimate reasons to live in sub-urban areas—closer proximity to family or work, for example.

There are times when my husband and I stare at each other from across the room and quietly suggest: Wouldn’t it be nice to park in front of our own house?

And we often dream together of leaving the city far behind and relocating to a rural space where our kids can be wild and reckless in the woods and come home at sunset with dirty hands and muddy boots.

But, at the end of the day, I am officially an urbanite.

And though some wild, faraway place may be in the cards for us someday, choosing against the suburbs is now a matter of principle for me, not simply preference.

What does this have to do with the infamous, polarizing issue of the Cincinnati streetcar?

It’s become pretty clear to me that Cincinnati residents are not only divided on the issue, but that no one is budging. We’re at an impasse and the only deciding factor at this point is that the public voted a majority of pro-streetcar City Council members in the last election, which is why the streetcar continues to move forward.

The difficulty of the debate is that one side sees the development of a streetcar system as a legitimate investment in the future of the urban core and the other side sees it as frivolous spending on a pet project—“a streetcar to nowhere.” These are ideological issues, not issues of preference.

Basically, we don’t simply live in different neighborhoods; we live in different worlds.

There are legitimate reasons to oppose the streetcar. Heck, I’m a Conservative! I understand the need for fiscal responsibility and responsible spending. But even a fiscal conservative believes in the importance of sound investments, building a future, and creating a foundation. And even the hesitant supporters—those who support pursuing the streetcar project at a future time, though not now—would agree that a project like the streetcar has the potential to strengthen the urban core, bring economic prosperity, and offer opportunity for further development.

The problem is this: the majority of those in opposition to the streetcar have a fundamentally different view of the urban environment, its infrastructure, and lifestyle, than do its supporters.

They see the city as a holding place for poor, homeless drunks and a recreational facility for wealthy yuppies. They do not believe that normal people actually live here. They do not believe that people with their level of wealth or education would choose to live here.

They do not understand the design of cities and do not share the vision of car-lite, rail-strong city. They do not care about the thousands of Cincinnati residents whose lives would someday benefit from affordable, convenient public transportation. (How other people find their way to home and work does not worry them, so long as those people don’t end up living in their neighborhoods.)

Their lives are dependent on cars and highways. They have not conceded the high costs (physical, social, and environmental) of car-dependent communities. They do not know a world without a 30-minute commute.

They do not share parking spaces, driveways, sidewalks, front porches, or front yards; of course they cannot imagine sharing transportation.

They are willing to invest billions of dollars in improving over-used highways and bridges surrounding the urban core, while neglecting characteristically urban transportation options which bolster urban life.

They do not see the streetcar as a sound investment because they do not believe that a pedestrian, urban life is a legitimate lifestyle choice of rational people (and families). So, they refuse to relinquish their control of the urban core to those who actually live, work, and play there.

And no one is going to change their minds.

I am not, nor have I ever been, a die-hard streetcar supporter. As I said earlier, I believe there are legitimate reasons to oppose—or perhaps postpone—the project.

But, I am an urbanite.

I believe that a strong urban core is the foundation of a strong city. And so I have to trust the history of cities and contemporary experts of urban design. They both agree that a streetcar system is a solid investment for our city.

So, I am tired of the debate.

We don’t simply live in different neighborhoods; we live in different worlds.

I have chosen to invest in a historically-significant shared built environment.

Many others took out a half a million dollar loan for a private, .25 acre plot of former farmland.

I have already said that there are legitimate reasons to choose a sub-urban lifestyle. But, to oppose urban development because you do not believe that there is fundamental, inherent value to the urban core of our city shows a complete lack of understanding.

The strength of our urban core is the only thing that makes your comfortable life in the suburbs possible.

And, until you believe that, we have nothing more to discuss.

And, by the way--

Stop calling it a “trolley,” for pete’s sake.

It’s a damn streetcar.

Go Play Outside: Sharon Woods

Did you know that it's only $10 a year for access to all of Hamilton County's amazing parks!?

Since I moved to Cincinnati nearly seven years ago, I've only gone two years without a Parks pass. But, to be honest, I haven't used any of the passes very often. I usually just consider it a $10 donation to the Park District. This year, though, I'm making an effort to explore the parks with my kids.

Recently, we took two trips to Sharon Woods, which is the park I know best because we have some good friends whose property abuts the park.

Wanna see some photos of trips!?

The "F" Word.

Here in the Twenty-first Century, there are still a few taboos that our enlightened society can't seem to rise above. One of them: Faith.

This seems particularly true in areas like architecture and urban planning, where it's presumed that all "people of faith" have bad taste, are afraid of progress, hate cities, and want to live in McMansions in the suburbs. These stereotypes are not completely unwarranted; there are factions of the Christian faith that are in opposition to contemporary voices in culture and urban life. But this small percentage does not speak for the whole.

Faith is particularly taboo in the academic realm where students are told to check their religious lives at the door and, consequently, never have a chance to develop the relationship between their private faith and their career. (Check out Ben Stein's Expelled: No Intelligence Allowed for his perspective on how this plays out in the realm of science.) This produces a lot of young people who believe they have to choose between two things they are passionate about: their faith and changing the world.

Is it possible to have both?
Some of us believe so.

A friend of mine, an urban planner in a moderately large city, recently asked me how I navigate my work in the public realm as it relates to my faith. Her experience is that Christians (especially of the conservative vein) are, at best, a joke in the city planning world. Now, my work in community improvement is not nearly as "public" as her position with the city. But, she has heard me speak (and write) quite a bit about how my faith informs my views on politics, community development, and urban life. And she was curious how I manage being an "eco-friendly, urban, transit-loving, libertarian Christian" (her words--not mine) without feeling emotionally crushed while working with my peers.

A blog I frequent--Urbanophile--recently posted a link to an interesting podcast on this issue. You can access it here.

The basic gist of the podcast is this: historically speaking, faith has always been a prime motivator in public life, for progress and justice. So, why do we ignore this connection when training those to whom we entrust our public life?

There is a lot of discussion in Christian circles these days about urbanism and how the Church should address issues related to city life and urban culture. But, the secular arena doesn't seem very educated about the contemporary Christian perspective--and they definitely ignore the historic one.

I'm fairly new to the conversation and definitely don't claim to have all the answers for how faith and public life are supposed to intersect, but, I am convinced that I need not "check my faith at the door" in order to have something to contribute to the broader conversation.

And I would encourage any young, passionate "people of faith" to pursue the health of their faith and the welfare of their city.

Maybe we can have both.







"But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare." - the prophet Jeremiah, Old Testament.

45202 Families

Parenting in an urban area can be a little isolating.
90% of the peers you see on a daily basis are either child-less or live 20 minutes away. It can be hard to make friends and stay active in your own community.

But most of us are on Facebook these days, right?
A few weeks ago, I started a Facebook group for "45202 Families."I'm hoping this group will be a way to connect folks who live, work, or play downtown so we can share recommendations and plan events.

The group is "invite only," so let me know if you'd like to join!

And I'll try to get around to blogging again eventually...

Midpoint Music Festival

I have had mixed feelings about the local phenomenon of Midpoint Music Festival, but they really redeemed themselves for me this year with their Midpoint Midway and CAC-sponsored acoustic stage.

For folks like me who live in the neighborhood, it was a great way to get out of the house and enjoy the event without spending money on a ticket. With two kids at home, the ticket would have been mostly wasted. And, considering the way MPMF takes over our neighborhood for a weekend, it was nice to have this early evening, all-ages, free part of the event. It definitely made up for the noise and parking issues that weekend!

We made it down to the Midway three nights in a row. We listened to some acoustic music, watched the skateboarders, and ate some fabulous soft pretzels. The weather was great and my son is still asking me if he can go "see some music" again tonight.

Thanks, Midpoint. Maybe next year I'll buy a ticket.

City Walks with Kids

I would love to see a book like this published for Cincinnati. We do, after all, live in one of the most walkable cities in the country!

the City Walks with Kids series, published by Chronicle Books

They Did Everything Right

Last week, news broke in New York City that an 8 year-old boy had been abducted, then killed and dismembered, after getting lost only blocks away from the place he was to meet his parents that afternoon. His error: he asked the wrong person for directions. That man took advantage of the situation and it ended tragically.

I’d rather not recount all of the details. You can read them for yourself.

As a parent raising children in an urban area, I am already well-aware of the perceived dangers of city life. I know that many of my peers, with children of the same age, think I’m nuts for planting our family here. And I will admit that I sometimes question this decision, as well, counting the cost of all the extra work my husband I and I have to do to keep our family safe and healthy in the city.

But the more time I spend here (we’ve lived in Over-the-Rhine for over three years now and I worked here for the three years before then), the more I am convinced that although there are certain dangers inherent to urban life, many of the dangers inherent to childhood transcend location. No matter where you plant your family, you run the risk of encountering danger. The likelihood of my children being abducted, breaking an arm, drowning in a neighbor’s pool, or getting hit by a car does not significantly decrease the further we are from the city. In fact, depending on where you live, some dangers will increase while others decrease.

On the issue of child abductions, some basic statistics:

• Family members account for the majority of these reported cases (82 percent)
• Non-family abductions account for 12,000 of these reported cases (18 percent)
• Of non-family abductions, 37 percent are by a stranger

Link: http://kidsfightingchance.com/stats.php

In more tangible terms, for every 100 children abducted, 82 are taken by a family member. 18 are taken by a non-family member. And, of those 18, only 6-7 of them are taken by a stranger. Call me crazy, but this says to me that, if your child is ever the victim of abduction, there is 93% chance they are abducted by someone you already know. And, the people you know will be the people you know no matter where you live.

And this is just one example.

As an aside, consider this: as soon as summer hits, the news is littered with tragic stories of children drowning in a neighbor’s pool. I don’t know about you, but I can’t think of a single property within two miles of my home that has a backyard pool. And the two public pools within those two miles are surrounded by high security fences and manned by lifeguards when open for business. So, this childhood danger is actually greatly reduced by living in the city.

The most tragic thing about the boy killed in Brooklyn was not that he was abducted, or that he was killed, or that it happened only blocks away from his intended meeting place. The most tragic thing for me, as a parent, is knowing that his parents did everything right and it happened anyway.

The family lived in an insular Orthodox Jewish community, a community where you’d assume residents were safe and adults were trustworthy. The boy was a month shy of 9 years old and had been begging his parents to allow him to walk home from summer camp alone. This was the first time they’d allowed it and they even walked the route with him, to insure he knew exactly where to go. Somehow, he got lost anyway. And when he stopped to ask for directions, the man he asked happened to be the one person within who knows how many miles who would take advantage of the situation.

I think about my hometown, in the SW suburbs of Chicago. And I think about the twelve or so blocks between my childhood home and my middle school. I think about the millions of times I must have walked that mile when I was eleven years old. And I think about how “safe” it seemed, even though it involved crossing multiple lanes of traffic in a pedestrian un-friendly area.

And then I think about my friend Karen’s home, in Blue Island, IL, which was a far cry from my suburban neighborhood only seven miles away. And I think about riding our bikes around her neighborhood when we were probably no older than ten years old. I think about the first drug deal I ever witnessed. And I think about the stories she told. And I think about the first time I drove through Blue Island as an adult and thought: I can’t believe her parents let us wander around this neighborhood alone!

But now I think I understand.

I think about my neighborhood. I think about the ten blocks between my home and the public library and I think: My son already knows this route and he’s not even three years old. Of course, by the time he’s ten years old, I would assume he’s competent to take this walk alone, even if I wouldn't yet allow it at that point.

The truth is, a good parent knows their child well enough to know when they are ready to “face the world alone.” And the best they can do is trust that they’ve given their child every tool necessary to take care of themselves on that walk down the block, then the walk around the corner, then eventually the walk down to the library. And when something goes wrong, if something goes wrong, chances are that it was nothing the parents could have foreseen and that they did everything right.

This is why it’s tragic when something terrible happens to a child. Regardless of what normal, natural, everyday thing they were doing when the tragedy happened, there is only so much we can do to protect them. And it doesn’t matter where they live. At a certain point, we need to allow them the freedom to take steps out the door alone.

I fear for my son’s life at least a dozen times a day. And my daughter, who is still about three weeks away from being born, is already stressing me out. But I know that, as they grow, the best thing I can do is provide the tools they’ll need to navigate this city without me. And the tools they’ll need here are different than the tools they’d need if we lived in the suburbs, but they are no more or less important. And my neighborhood is no more or less “safe.” It’s just different. The dangers are different. The people are different. The streets and houses and stores are different. And my children will be different because of it. (Heck, that’s part of the reason we’re here.)

The sentiment spoken at the boy’s funeral is perfect for the situation:

“He got lost, he got lost,” he said... “There’s nothing to say, he got lost. God wanted it.”

As a person of faith myself, I can understand what he means. For others, it’s a difficult thing to take in. But the sentiment is something we can all appreciate because it’s true: when something like this happens, there is often a simple explanation for how it happened. In this case, “he got lost.” I’ve been lost before. And you probably have, too. And it happens in the city and in the suburbs and on the hiking trail and in a foreign city. And sometimes you stop to ask the wrong person for directions and you end up more lost than you were before. Or sometimes it ends in tragedy.

Often times, there's simply nothing you should have done differently.

I hope that little boy's parents know that.

Quickening

The past six months are a blur.

For one thing, the weather in Cincinnati has been... disappointing... and has kept us inside more than I wish to admit. The perpetual rain has made it hard to feel motivated for the walk to work. And these recent, sudden hot/cold temperature fluctuations have been exhausting. Cincinnati has such fickle weather and I guess I'm more of a fair weather pedestrian than I'd like to admit.

Also, work got really hectic the past few months. Thankfully, my schedule has started to ease as June hit, but my husband is in the midst of the long, busy building season. Lots of late nights. Tired bones. And the end is nowhere in sight. Not for a few months, at least.

Oh, yeah. And I'm pregnant. I'm seven months pregnant at this point, which makes everything just a bit harder and each day a bit longer and every walk feel a bit more exhausting. And having a toddler has made this pregnancy different in every way from my last. And as I anticipate this new arrival, I am mourning how little time I have left to spend alone with my son, my first favorite baby, who will no longer be my "only" in just a handful of weeks.

As far as our city is concerned, the past few months have been a crazy time. The issues of the infamous streetcar and the casino, recent homicides in our neighborhood, businesses opening and closing. If I had not begun reading a Twitter feed with local news and neighborhood conversations, I would be clueless. And still, even with the Twitter updates, I always seem clued-in too late.

I just can't keep up--physically or mentally.
And emotionally, I'm still a few months behind.
And when life moves so fast it can start to lose its charm.



Some friends came for a quick visit a few weeks ago on their way through town.
They are urban dwellers, living in Elgin, IL, a small city near Chicago that I used to call "home." They asked about our work, the politics of the city, the changes in Over-the-Rhine.

My friends seemed so enchanted by our home, our neighborhood, and our family life here in Cincinnati. And when you stop to think about it, I guess we really do have something special here. Sometimes we just move too quickly to notice the small, subtle changes that make this city what it is.

We want change. We want better grocery options, an end to the hostility and violence among neighbors, less litter, fewer loiterers in the public parks, etc. But, sometimes we are so anxious for the big changes in our neighborhood that we forget to notice the small breaths of life that peek up around every corner. Day by day, this city--and the downtown area specifically--is becoming more healthy, viable, and safe. There may be a million naysayers living outside the city limits, but those of us who are here in the thick of it know the truth.



In pregnancy talk, there is a word for the moment a woman can feel the movements of her unborn child. It's called "quickening," and it's a fabulous experience. Personally, it's been the point when I can mentally accept that the thing growing inside of me is REAL, is LIVING, and is becoming more and more AMAZING every day.

As I type, I can feel this baby spinning circles inside of me.
And, while people outside our city are looking for quantifiable changes to prove the viability of Over-the-Rhine, those of us who live here can feel its "quickening."
In fact, this city has been moving for years. But to understand it, you've got to crawl inside it, or put your hand up to its belly and feel it kick. You've got to walk its streets, play in its parks, explore its local flavors and colors. You've got to be willing to know it the way a woman knows her child, the way she nurtures it, the way she leans in and whispers "I know you're in there," and the way she anticipates its birth.

It's a great time to live in this great city.
I hope I can slow down enough some day to take it all in before everything has progressed so far that we can't believe its been so long since those first days when we felt it move.

How long have you been waiting?
And when did you first feel it?

Things to Love: Winter Survival Toys

On most days, if my son has not left the house by 10am for either a walk, playtime at the park, or a few moments on the front stoop to watch the neighbors walk their dogs, I start to sense he might go crazy. He's an extrovert with a lot of energy and curiosity. And I try to make sure I provide as many opportunities as are reasonable for him to get out and explore our city. But, let's face it, no one really wants to take a walk when it's 20 degrees and freezing rain outside. So, there have been a few days these past few months when we've never left the house.

Here's my list of things that have gotten us through the Winter and kept us busy on the days when a walk around town is just not an option:

Balance Bike

Granted, this toy would not be as effective if my son were already a pro. But, since it's a new toy--his big gift for his second birthday in January--he is only just learning how to ride it and he moves slowly and carefully enough to ride it in our home. Our version of the balance bike is similar to the one shown in the photo and those available at this link, but is not labeled with a brand name. I purchased it on a whim about six months ago when I saw a listing on Craigslist with an unbeatable price for one made by "some European manufacturer" that the seller couldn't recall. (Local favorite Park + Vine sells a version, too!) Either way, we love the bike. It's very well made, looks great, and will be awesome for playing outside this Spring. Also, since the seat moves up and down, it could last us another year, easy.


Play-Doh

My husband said his mother never let him play with Play-Doh as a child. She was an art teacher and her taste in materials was far too advanced for the stuff. Heck, I'll admit it. I would have never purchased it for my son. But, a friend gave it to him for his birthday and he ABSOLUTELY LOVES IT. I cannot overstate this: he's crazy over Play-Doh. I, on the other hand, cannot stand the smell of the stuff and have been hunting around for homemade versions to take its place. Since there are a million recipes online, I trust I can find a kinder-scented alternative. But, in the meantime, it's kept him happy for hours these past few weeks.


Library Books

One of my favorite things about living in Over-the-Rhine is that awesome cultural amenities like the public library are only a short walk away. My son's recent borrows include: a book about Curious George and a firetruck; Dino Parade; a really advanced "Learn German" read-along CD (which we laughed at and then put back in the bag to return on our next trip); Woodie Guthrie's New Baby Train; another adorable book to prepare him for being a big brother called There's Going to Be A Baby; and a book about tubas (at his request). The library isn't only good for books, though. We attend a storytime there on the Monday mornings when I don't work. And there is a computer for him to use (since I won't let him fiddle with mine). Even on cruddy-weather days, the 10 minute walk is bearable when we can spend a ton of time wandering around the library hunting for books for me and books for him. Sometimes we bring a snack; sometimes we stop for a snack on the way home; sometimes we wait until we get home and can crack open a new book while we eat our lunch. Either way, we try not to go more than two weeks between visits to the library to freshen-up on books for both Mama (sometimes Daddy) and son.


Sprig's Eco-Trucks

Last year, my mom purchased my son an amazing toy made by Sprig. This company produces toys made from "Sprigwood," a composite of recycled wood and reclaimed plastic. The toys have no painted surfaces, minimal packaging, and don't require batteries for fun. I absolutely LOVED the toy she bought him last year and mentioned that she could purchase him as many toys made by the same company as she wanted. For his birthday this year, she brought him two more of their toys--the Eco-Trucks. Just like their predecessor, he loves them. Learning to manipulate the digger and dump truck's movable pieces has taken some time, but it has also kept him occupied and requires brainpower and coordination. Unlike some other brands of environmentally-friendly toys, we have been impressed by how well the Sprig toys roll and move. And I think they look super cool, too!


What about you?
What has helped you keep your kids occupied during cold and rainy stay-inside weather?

Do This: Clean the Highway and Get a Free Trip to the Zoo!

This year, Keep Cincinnati Beautiful will again kick-off the Great American Cleanup with the Ohio State Roadway Cleanup on March 26th. On this day, hundreds of volunteers will take to the highways to clean and beautify our city's dirtiest exit and entry ramps.

Why should you volunteer?
The first 500 volunteers will receive a free admission ticket to the Cincinnati Zoo & Botanical Garden for participating in the event. (Volunteers must be signed up with KCB prior to the event and at least 16 years old with a parent or guardian present if under 18.) This is the perfect opportunity for a parent or two who want to plan a trip to the zoo, but would rather not have to pay for multiple admission tickets. If both parents volunteer at the State Roadway Cleanup, their tickets will be free! Find a sitter for the morning and come volunteer!

You can also help choose the cleanup locations by submitting your pick for the dirtiest highway exit or entrance ramp in Cincinnati. Voting ends on March 11th.

Sign up now for details about meeting times and locations!

Positive Reinforcement

Because I'm generally not a fan of forced ethics on a governmental level--i.e. outlawing plastic bags and the such--I do appreciate all forms of positive reinforcement.

Take, for example, the way the City of Cincinnati re-worked their curbside recycling program to reward residents for their participation.

Thanks to a new partnership with Recyclebank, a rewards program similar to a frequent flier program, residents can now earn tangible rewards for each pound they recycle. With new, high-tech (and massive, I might add) recycling bins and fancy recycling trucks with scanners and scales, Recyclebank now keeps track of how much is recycled per household and allots points to the residents. Then, registered families log on to their online account and, once they've reached a certain level, can redeem their points for online rewards from local businesses.

Many folks, myself included, took advantage of the City's curbside recycling program without this rewards program. And, so, receiving rewards for our efforts are only an added bonus to the work we were already committed to do. (In fact, I'll be honest and say that, although I'm registered online at Recyclebank, I haven't checked my account for a few months. And, because those new bins are so huge, I only put out my recycling every month instead of every two weeks, which is when it is now collected.)

I know there have been some complaints about the size of the bins (especially in historic row house districts like the one in which I live), or about the switch from weekly to bi-weekly pickup (because people like me are absentminded about this sort of thing), but I think the program is much stronger than it was a year ago--due in part to this partnership with Recyclebank.

Hopefully, the City has seen an increase in recycling since the program kicked off a few months ago. If nothing else, maybe the appearance of a large, green recycling bin on the doorstep made some residents wonder why they'd never recycled before. Either that, or there's some lady in Over-the-Rhine hoarding dozens of the new recycling bins in her backyard... (oh, wait, that's totally true...)

Visit the Cincinnati Recycles website for full information. Then, when your bin arrives (or if it has already), log on to the Recyclebank website and register!

Do This: Blue Manatee kids' programming

My plan today, due to the warmer weather, was a walk to the downtown branch of the library for the weekly storytime. But, because I had another side-trip to make, we decided to try something new and get out of downtown.

When my son was young, before he was fully-mobile, we drove out to the Blue Manatee Bookstore in Oakley every so often so I could grab a cup of coffee with a friend and our kids could peek through some books. Sometimes we'd make it a day trip and stop in to The Spotted Goose and King Arthur's Court Toys.

I haven't been to the bookstore for the past six months or so but, early this morning, I checked the schedule and registered my son for the art class at 10am.

The class cost me $5, lasted a half hour, and we came home with two art projects. Izzy loved his first official painting experience, and it was fun to watch him alongside his peers. The class was for ages 2-4, with eight kids total.

For Cincinnati parents, I would highly recommend a trip to the Blue Manatee, either to browse, catch a storytime, or take a scheduled class. (I believe they host private parties, as well, which I'm going to keep in mind for my mid-winter birthday boy.) Check out the website and find a time to stop in. Heck, you can spend the whole day in Oakley--books, toys, boutique goods, and even a trip to a good ol' soda and ice cream shop!

Enjoy your trip!

I Couldn't Agree More

I definitely haven't said much lately on this blog. Rest assured, it's not for lack of ideas or desire. I've simply been too busy and overwhelmed to sit down and write.

Until I get my act together and write something original, chew on this:

A great article, courtesy of good.is about the value of planning cities with families in mind.

Thanks, GOOD. I couldn't have said it any better.

Pitching a Tent for Magnet Schools

In Cincinnati, parents have the choice about where their children attend school. In the public school system, children can default to attending their neighborhood schools, or apply for enrollment in one of the magnet schools. Many of these magnet schools are designed around a specific educational pedagogy--Montessori or Paideia, for example--or a certain focus of education--foreign language or fine arts, for example.

The competitive nature of enrollment in these magnet schools is understandable. First of all, Cincinnati magnet schools are free for city residents. And because they are sometimes much higher ranked in academics and a bit more culturally refined than neighborhood schools, these schools are a great option for parents who would consider private or parochial schools if it were not for the price.

There is a catch.
Some of these schools are so desirable that they attract too many families. To keep enrollment manageable, CPS has developed a system that requires some pretty serious dedication from the family.

A recent story in the Cincinnati Enquirer covers the phenomenon of the CPS magnet school enrollment process:

"The magnet schools, which generally have high academic ratings and focus on specialties like foreign language or the arts, accept students on a first-come first-served basis. At most schools there is no problem getting in. But at Fairview and a handful of others, lines form days in advance."

I have mixed feelings about this "first-come first-served" policy.

On the positive side, CPS can rest assured that only the most committed families will enroll their children in these highly competitive schools. This obviously contributes to the high academic achievement of such schools, as well as the shared commitment to success. This policy also gives parents the opportunity to provide the best education possible for their children, regardless of financial restraints.

On the negative side, it's not an equitable policy. "First-come first-served" policies like this take a lot for granted. First, that all parents have the possibility of taking 3-5 days out of their lives to camp out on the school's front yard. Second, it presupposes that a child's worthiness in not inherent, but is dependent upon their parents' willingness to go to such lengths.

Another major inequality built into the policy is the way it effects the neighborhood schools. In this system, the children privileged enough to have parents willing to sacrifice for their children are the only ones offered an option outside of their own neighborhoods. Where does that leave the rest?


So, if this system is not an equitable system, what other option do we have?

I do believe that committed parents should be rewarded for their commitment. And I also understand that any parent who wants the best for their child would (hopefully) do whatever necessary to make it happen--i.e. make certain they can be in line when they need to be to secure that spot in their desired school. So, completely tossing out the policy doesn't make sense.

I guess one simple question is this: Why doesn't CPS reserve a certain percentage of the open spots for those who are not able to make it to the front of the line? It seems like this would make everyone happy. The parents at the front of the line would get theirs spots. And the folks at the back of the line would be entered into a lottery for the remaining slots.

Is this already happening?
Am I missing something?


And maybe there is another question to ask:
What is the point of magnet schools?

According to Wikipedia's article on Magnet Schools:

"Districts started embracing the magnet school models in the hope that their geographically open admissions would end racial segregation in "good" schools, and decrease de facto segregation of schools in poorer areas. To encourage the voluntary desegregation, districts started developing magnet schools to draw students to specialized schools all across their districts. Each magnet school would have a specialized curriculum that would draw students based on their interests. One of the goals of magnet schools is to eliminate, reduce, and prevent minority group isolation while providing the students with a stronger knowledge of academic subjects and vocational skills. Magnet schools still continue to be models for school improvement plans and provide students with opportunities to succeed in a diverse learning environment."

Can someone with more personal experience in the Cincinnati magnet schools tell me if this is working? My fear is that instead of desegregating the more under-served and impoverished neighborhood schools, magnet schools actually pull the most opportunistic families out of all of the neighborhood schools and leave even mid-income neighborhood schools culturally impoverished. The children who end up in the magnet schools benefit; everyone else suffers.

I don't know that I can offer any better solution to the problems in our public schools. I can understand a parent's desire to provide the best opportunity for their children, so I'm not willing to fault those who stand line for days to secure those coveted kindergarten seats.

My last question:
What would happen if, instead of hand-picking the best regional opportunities for our children, we invested our time and energy in our own neighborhood and community institutions, whether they be educational, cultural, or religious? How would the most disadvantaged children in our city benefit from this local investment by the parents of the most privileged ?

Perhaps what I'm suggesting is not the economic concept of the "redistribution of wealth" but, rather, the redistribution of educational opportunity.


As for our family, my husband and I have some crazy schemes for the education of our children. And I'm not ready to discuss them here. For now, I'm simply going to hope for good weather for those camped out on Clifton Ave, and pray for the welfare of the children whose parents won't show up, but who deserve something better than their neighborhoods can provide.

Opportunity Missed.

I'm disappointed that I just read about this event now, a few hours after it ended.

Urban Pioneers - The Cult of Personality

Did anyone go?
How was it?

Shopping Downtown

Some folks think that "there is no place to shop downtown."

I'll admit that our city does not have the best example of a downtown shopping district--at least not anymore. But at one point, I've been told, people flocked to the Central Business District to do their shopping. What happened? (Maybe someone who knows more about the history of downtown could fill me in?)

This is a case of the "chicken or the egg."
Did the shopping district die because residents stopped coming downtown to shop, or did residents stop coming downtown because the shopping district died? Either way, I believe that a vibrant shopping district is directly related to a thriving residential presence in downtown.

Cincinnati is very decentralized. It may be due to the large hills or due to intentional urban planning but, either way, residency in Cincinnati centers around neighborhoods rather than downtown. But, even in our "best" neighborhoods, there are few truly thriving shopping districts. Most everyone in Cincinnati who needs to buy the basics--underwear, toilet paper, duct tape--must either get on a bus or get in a car to find the nearest place to buy them. And even in areas where stores are nearby, they are not designed for pedestrians; most of America's new, expensive shopping districts are designed for shoppers traveling by car via the highway, not by foot via the sidewalk.



In the past two years, I've re-adjusted my habits of shopping to reflect a pedestrian life. And, contrary to popular belief, it appears that downtown residents have plenty of places to shop.

Just a sampling of the stores (that I frequent) within a 15-minute walk of my home:

Macy's
TJ Maxx
CVS
Kroger
Findlay Market
Avril & Bleh Market
Park + Vine
Mica 12/V

If I am smart about my shopping, I can go days or weeks without needing to drive to nearby shopping center. Believe me, I love a trip to Target just as much as the next mom and I still stop in at large grocery stores for the occasional hard-to-find item. But, it's awesome to see my trips out of downtown become less and less frequent.

As far as prices are concerned, the extra money I may spend by purchasing what's available nearby rather than comparing prices is saving me a ton of gas and car maintenance costs. No more chasing cheap prices around town.

At this point, I honestly can't understand how some people find car rides, parking spots, and 10,000 sq ft stores to be more practical than a five-minute walk to a smaller store. Sure, I can't do a month's worth of grocery shopping at once (that is, until I buy one of those fancy bike trailers I've been eying...), but shopping in the neighborhood keeps me on my feet and out where I can meet my neighbors and see all of the exciting things that are happening in our city. I love how this adjustment in my shopping habits has changed my perspective on my neighborhood.

I know that it won't always be so easy, depending on how many children we end up with. And I know that I won't be so excited to run errands on foot when there is snow on the ground. But, for now, the pedestrian life is grand. (And I'll just need to buy a good pair of snow boots.)




As a sidenote:

In my "perfect Cincinnati," where our center city trumps the suburbs as a shopping destination, the Tower Place Mall (or the new Banks development) would be developed to include a few more large clothing and shoe stores (a la Gap or DSW), Patagonia would open up shop, there would be an Apple store, Joseph Beth would re-locate to the neighborhood, an REI would move into town, and a small-ish grocer like Fresh Market or Trader Joe's would settle in, too.

Heck, then I'd never have to leave downtown.

What would your "perfect Cincinnati" include?

Just Your Typical CityKin

Our friend and neighbor over at CityKin just posted a great summary of a typical weekend for a family living in downtown Cincinnati.

Visit it here and then scroll through the rest of his blog for proof that the city really is a great place to live as a family.

On a personal note: It was great to finally meet this neighbors in person while walking home from dinner Friday night. (I met Mrs. CityKin briefly, a year ago, when I answered their providential call on the blog for someone interested in taking their used cloth diapers.) And many thanks to CityKin's wonderful children who sent my son home with two glow-in-the-dark bracelets when we left. He wore them to bed that night and I could see them still glowing early in the morning.

Ahh... the beauty of the pedestrian life and the friends you meet along the way...

Kids Not Welcome

Every time a new restaurant/diner opens downtown, and a friend tells me of their recent visit there, I ask a simple question: Did you see any kids or highchairs?


Most people, obviously, don't look for a highchair when they walk into a new place. But, from a parent's perspective, the absence of this simple object says one thing to me: Your kids are not welcome here.

I can understand a restaurant owner's fear of becoming a *gasp* "Family Restaurant," and I can understand that a toddler is not their primary clientele. But, I also know that there a very large number of young adults with young children who would love to be able to support these local businesses, but the businesses seem to not want their support.

Yes, I can still sneak in with my son and let him sit on my lap while we both try to eat. And, yes, a booster seat is a step in the right direction. But, a young toddler is much more likely to sit still if seated in a high chair. My son is very well behaved (and we know when our son is not behaving and it's time to leave). Heck, these business owners might actually like having us around!

So,

Dear Business Owners:

I support local business and I'd love to support yours. But, until you are willing to accommodate my small and well-behaved family, you'll be relegated to my "date night" restaurant list. This list is large and not often consulted for dinner plans. Maybe we'll see you (and you'll see our money) in a few years?

Sincerely,
Your neighbor.

(And don't even get me started on coffee shops and gas station bathrooms without diaper changing stations... ugh!)

Summer is Over?

Wait!

Today was the first day of class at Cincinnati Public Schools and I'm amazed. Has Summer really passed by so quickly? Did school start this early for me when I was a child?

I've noticed recently how slowly I seem to be moving compared to my surroundings.
Maybe it's my lack of media consumption that keeps me out of the loop;
Maybe it's the constant attention I give to my toddler;
Maybe it's my husband's busy building schedule;
Maybe it's our move from busy Vine St. to this quiet, tree-lined street five blocks away.

In addition to the start of the school year, which always signifies the official end of Summer to me, downtown Cincinnati--and Over-the-Rhine, specifically--seems to be moving very fast. New restaurants; new shops; new neighbors. It's enough to make a girl like myself yell, "Stop! I just can't keep up!" I swear, even though I leave the house every day and walk these streets, I cannot seem to move quickly enough to participate in all the excitement!

More often than not, in conversations with other young parents who live outside the city, I hear a lot of "Oh... I wish I could move into the city, but...." And then they elaborate on one of many (sometimes legitimate) reasons why moving into the city is unrealistic for their family.

To them, I say that there could not be a better time for young families to move into the City of Cincinnati.

Heck, I will go so far as to say that there has never been a better time to live downtown.

(And this is not the idealism of a brand new resident speaking. I've lived in OTR the better part of three years and worked here the two years before that. Even though I may not be a long-term resident yet, I'm definitely not new to the scene.)


It's an exciting time to be in Cincinnati, no?

I only wish I had more time to spend with neighbors, make new friends, eat new foods, buy new goods, and take it all in. Maybe as the weather cools, time will slow down a bit and I will get a chance to really inhabit our great city.

Happy end of Summer, folks!
Maybe I'll catch up with you in the Fall?

Read This: The Urbivore

I've discovered a new blog--The Urbivore's Dilemma.

Photo courtesy of Jennifer Prediger at Urbivore's Dilemma.

I was turned on to it by the folks over at GOOD. (Check them out if you're not already familiar.) It chronicles a New Yorker's experience of switching from a diet consisting of mostly take-out to one of primarily local produce from her new CSA share.

Since this is my first year as a CSA shareholder (I've bought into an Urban Farm Project), I immediately understood the dilemma. The challenge of a CSA is not only adjusting to a vegetable-based diet, but of learning to cook with whatever food is fresh, in-season, and available. The first few weeks of my CSA were hard to navigate--lots of lettuce and greens, beets, and turnips. (I froze a lot of the root vegetables, hoping to figure out what to do with them at a later time.) But the past few weeks have been much easier--carrots, cucumbers, zucchini, green beans, etc. It's been a relief to use the vegetables in meals I would normally cook, but still gives me a little room to experiment. The familiarity of the more recent produce makes my investment seem more reasonable.

I'm excited to follow along with the Urbivore's experiment in changing her diet and maybe get some good ideas for my own local produce experiment. Does anyone else want to share their experience of learning to eat local, in-season produce? Recipes? Funny recipe failures?