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.

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.

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?

Go Play Outside: Alone?

My son is not yet two years old, but I can already see that 1. he is a severe extrovert and 2. he loves being out of the house. So, what does this mean for his adolescent years, when the most natural expenditure of his energy will be to go outside and play with his friends--without my supervision?

I mean, seriously.
Am I willing to let my 10 year old son out in Over-the-Rhine to play, or to walk alone to library for that matter?

The issue of unsupervised youth has come up recently in the news, among friends, and in the parenting class we're involved with at our church. And now we're asking ourselves these same questions again.

When our son is ten years old, who will he play with?
Where will they play?
Will I let them play alone?

There is a lot of talk in parenting circles about the dangers of the modern world. And it's almost comical the steps some parents take to protect their children--everything from fairly benign re-designing of public playscapes to be "safer" for kids to the more ridiculous tracking their movements with GPS chips.

Thanks to some links from CityKin, I have been reading in on the conversations among radical parents across the nation who are defying the modern ideals of a "safe childhood" and are instead raising their children to be wise, independent, and self-reliant in the world. These particular folks call the movement "free-range kids," and have some great things to say about how ridiculous we've become in our quest to protect our children from the "dangers" of the modern world.

I am quick to admit that my husband and I do often question the wisdom of raising children in the city, mostly because of two issues: this apparent need for more supervision in an urban environment and the lack of greenspace and natural areas. But, we decided that the benefits of an urban lifestyle were worth combating these problems rather than allowing them to send us to the suburbs (where we know parents deal with the very same issues, anyway).

For families like us who believe that urban living is inherently better than a sub-urban lifestyle (for multiple reasons which I am always willing to defend, but cannot go into here) and want to know how to keep your children safe without going bonkers about every possible danger, I have a few suggestions:

1. Be realistic about danger.

We all know that life is dangerous, and that there are people and ideas and places that can hurt us lurking around every corner. But, the only real way your children will learn to combat danger is to face it with wisdom and discernment. And if your children are never exposed to uncomfortable or seemingly dangerous situations when they are young and are never forced to navigate their world alone as they grow older, they will never gain the skills in problem-solving and adaptation that will make adult dangers much easier to navigate.

2. Let go. Slowly.

Children who are locked in child-proofed homes or fenced in manicured backyards are given no opportunities to practice the art of trial and error. It is normal and healthy for children--even very young children--to make mistakes. Without falls and bumps and bruises, children never learn to navigate dangers or to correct their mistakes.

Now, there are obvious limits to the dangers we should allow our children to confront at a young age. This is why I say, "Let go. Slowly." But, let common sense be the guild as you allow your child's environment to get a little more risky all the time. Watch them closely for their first few years and you'll see how they naturally adapt to their surroundings and learn skills to confront new problems as they grow.

3. Let kids solve their own problems.

Some examples:
Once your child can climb up and down the stairs, let him. Even if it takes longer.
Once your child can open the door, ask him to open it for you.
Let your son get his own shoes. And put them on, if he can.
Let him figure out where he left his toy, instead of finding it for him.
Give directions and be patient as he tries to follow them. Don't help if he doesn't need help.
Let your child solve petty conflicts with friends on their own, without your mediation.

Allowing young children to clean up their own messes, entertain themselves, do their own work, and solve their own problems will pay off in dividends as they grow older. A child who is competent in his own little world will have an easier time navigating the world outside his front door. He will be more resourceful, more resilient, and more responsible. And since you have watched how competent he is at home, you will be more likely to trust this competence to help him outside of the home.

4. Have a lot of kids.

Now, I understand that most people don't want a dozen children, but hear me out on this. Having multiple children--i.e. built-in playmates--is great for urban living because if your 7 year-old daughter has two older brothers to take her to the park, she doesn't need you to do it.

And if having multiple children is not your cup of tea, you could simply make an effort to get to know other families in the immediate, walkable area. And if there are no other children nearby, or if you don't trust the other families nearby to be with your kids, then you could always start an intentional community. (I'm totally, 100%, serious about this, by the way. No creepy cult-talk intended.)

Basically, the "safety in numbers" scenario is a great way to calm a parent's worry and keep children safe.

5. Get outside.

By "get outside" I mean you should physically leave the house and get outside with your young children to explore your neighborhood. This is helpful for two reasons. First, the best way to decrease "stranger danger" is to have fewer strangers. If your child knows and is known by the local grocer, the woman at the bank, the postal worker, the librarian, and the guy who is always begging for change outside the library, then there will be five more sets of eyes watching him venture out into the neighborhood by himself some day. Stop worrying that everyone in your neighborhood might secretly be a pedophile and get to know them. Learn their names. Introduce your children. And learn what it means to actually be a community.

Secondly, this principle remains true for strange places, not just strange people. If you know your neighborhood, and spend time in and around your neighborhood with your children when they are young, they will know their way around as well as you do. They will know which intersections are busiest, which streets to avoid, which coffeeshops serve the best hot chocolate, and where to buy tissues when they get a bloody nose playing in the park. Teach them how to get to the police or fire station, the library, and the grocery store. Make your environment familiar to your children and they will be a million times more secure and discerning when on their own.



At our home, we are lucky to have a small backyard which will provide at least some opportunity for our young children to play alone outside in a confined environment. But, our small backyard will not be enough for a young boy who wants to ride his bike or organize an ad-hoc baseball game. So, I hope that by the time our son is old enough to venture out of the house by himself, we are ready to let him. And, even if I'm not ready, I want to make sure that he is.

What about you?
Where do you live?
Do you feel safe letting your children out alone to play?
Why or why not?


Food for thought:
Read this story about a radical "holiday" for kids.
Could you do it?


And check this out. Adventure Playgrounds.
Wow. I plan to write more about this, eventually.

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...

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?

We Did It! (Well, we're going to do it.)

We're buying a house!

As you can imagine, the buy-a-house-before-the-tax-credit-runs-out adventure has taken a lot of energy for both me and my husband, hence the reason I have had nothing to say on this blog for the past few weeks.

Suffice to say:
The house is in Over-the-Rhine.
It is a single-family home.
And it has a backyard.

As long as the few last-minute things come together, we will be in the house by the 4th of July (and then maybe climb out on the roof to see the fireworks!).

I couldn't be happier.

More later...

Local Issues: The Enquirer Calls "Save OTR"

Cincinnati Enquirer Editor Tom Callinan published an essay last Thursday titled Now, not soon, is the time to save OTR's historic treasures.

You need to read it.

You can find it here.

An excerpt:

Soon is not good enough, Cincinnati.

Now would be a good time to get serious about saving Over-the-Rhine.

And I am not talking about crime there. I’m talking about saving its soul – the building stock that makes it one of the largest urban historic districts in the United States. The crimes are occurring not in the streets, but towering over them.

We are losing a treasure, one building at a time. That is the biggest crime happening in our midst...


Preservation of the historic core is not just council’s job.

It is not about them; it is us.

It is not there; it is here.

It is not soon.

It is now. - Tom Callinan

My question:

There are many of us who believe so fully in the value of Over-the-Rhine that we would be willing to invest the next 5, 10, 15+ years of our lives in helping save our neighborhood.

But, we aren't necessarily the ones with the capital to make it happen.


Who will help us help OTR?