Blog

What were the odds? My first night of door-knocking

On Wednesday, I went out on my first night of door-knocking in Cobble Hill.  Over the years, I've talked to a lot of people about issues -- encouraging them to get involved in campaigns for affordable housing, or to strengthen tenant protections, or help create new jobs, or to push for rezonings to preserve neighborhood quality-of-life.  And I've knocked on door for the Obama campaign, and for progressive local candidates here in New York City.

But I've never knocked on doors to ask people to vote for me ... so in some ways it was a new and strange experience.  Lots of people (understandably) don't want to talk at all, so they don't answer the doorbell, or they explain that they are in the middle of making dinner or giving their kid a bath.  Others make a minute to talk, and I learned about some of what matters to a few folks on Warren Street -- improving the environment and addressing climate change, saving Long Island College Hospital, helping small businesses cope with the economic downturn.

At one door, I rang the bell downstairs, under the stoop, and then a man came out from the upstairs door onto his stoop, polite, but eyeing me a bit skeptically.  As I walked slowly up a stair or two, his wife came out behind him.  I introduced myself: "Hi, I'm Brad Lander.  I'm running for City Council, and I'd love a minute to talk about the issues that matter to you."  She looked at me, and said: "Are you David Lander's son?"

Now, my parents have lived in St. Louis, Missouri all their lives.  They love to visit Brooklyn, but it is still pretty rare that I run into someone here that knows them, that I've never met.  

But it turns out that Fran Mendlow (nee Seltzer) graduated University City High School with both my parents (my folks met in kindergarten, and when through University City public schools together), and was friends with them more than 40 years ago in St. Louis.

I've been hoping that my record of results at the Fifth Avenue Committee and the Pratt Center for Community Development -- on affordable housing, creating jobs, strengthening neighborhood quality-of-life, and fighting for a more sustainable city -- would resonate as I talk to new people.  And I even imagined that my family ties might help a bit.  Between connections at at P.S. 107 (where our kids go to school and Meg's on the School Leadership Team), little league baseball, basketball, and soccer, swimming and art classes, Meg's work at the Brennan Center for Justice, etc. there are many chances to meet someone in the neighborhood who knows Meg, Marek, or Rosa.

But what were the odds of meeting new voters who know and like my parents from high school in St. Louis?  (I wish they were larger, because my folks are great people, and anyone who knows them would indeed by much more likely to vote for me).  Their class was just a few hundred people, forty years ago, half-a-continent away.

I don't know if the right word is bashert, or kismet, or just dumb luck.  But I'm taking it as a good sign.

Very Hungry Caterpillar Day

Who knew?  But it turns out Friday, March 6th was the 40th anniversary of the publication of Eric Carle's marvelous children's book, "The Very Hungry Caterpillar."

To celebrate, I was invited to read a few Eric Carle books to kindergarten classes from P.S. 130 at the Windsor Terrace Library, along with the great P.S. 130 principal, Maria Nunziata.  She read "The Very Hungry Caterpillar" and "Little Cloud."  I read "From Head to Toe" and "Today is Monday."  We both wore goofy looking antennae, and made fools of ourselves on the various animal motions. 

Besides having a great time with the kindergartners (the same age as my daughter, Rosa, who goes to P.S. 107 in Park Slope, the schools that's in the "Knuffle Bunny" books), I was very impressed with the Windsor Terrace Library, and the partnership they have with P.S. 130.  Classes from the school are constantly in the library, to read, learn, and research; there are after-school programs every day; and many speakers and community programs.

Neighborhood branch libraries are an underappreciated treasure of our city.  Not only are they a marvelous place to read Eric Carle books and hold after-school programs.  More than 50% of Brooklyn households do not have broadband internet access at home, and over one-third of them say the public library is their primary place of access.

Unfortunately, the libraries are taking a big hit in this financial crisis, with large cuts in both public and private funds.  They've already had to close on Sundays ... which means its now a day when half of New Yorkers can't check email or use the internet.  The Brooklyn Public Library system has launched a Support Our Shelves campaign -- check it out, and consider contributing time or money if you can.

Remembering Max Bond

On February 17th, we lost one of New York City's great champions. Max Bond was an extraordinary architect, public citizen, mentor, and civil rights crusader.

Early in his career, in the 1960s, Max worked in Ghana (at the time when post colonial African independence seemed to offer real possibilities for hope and freedom), winning recognition for the Bolgatanga Library. Upon his return to the United States, he founded the Architects Renewal Committee of Harlem (ARCH), one of the first community design centers in the United States.

Max went on to have a distinguished professional career, founding his own firm and later becoming a partner at Davis Brody Bond, one of NYC's leading firms. His signature works include the site of Martin Luther King Jr.'s tomb, the Studio Museum of Harlem, and most recently the 9/11 Memorial at Ground Zero.

Even as his stature grew, he never ceased to advocate for civil rights and community development. And he was universally known as a warm and generous person, who always found time to mentor young architects and planners. When I've had the opportunity to teach or mentor planning or architectural students, it is Max's example and spirit that I seek to emulate.

I had the privilege of getting to know him in recent years, and to benefit from his wisdom and kindness, through his service as a member of the Advisory Board of the Pratt Center for Community Development. He was always warm, thoughtful, available, and helpful to us in thinking through issues, whether the challenge was one of design or social justice. We had the great honor of recognizing him at the 45th Anniversary of the Pratt Center last year, on February 26, 2008. His remarks that night were poignant and inspiring, calling us as New Yorkers, and as citizens of the world, to our best selves.

We will sorely miss his presence ... but his example, like his buildings, will continue to inspire our work for a more just city and world for many years to come.

Marek's Thoughts on the Inauguration

Being at the inauguration was really fun. There were like three million people there. It was very cold. There were people at least half a mile back. Getting there and back was very chaotic. You had to stand on the Mall. The Mall is the space between the Capitol Building and the Lincoln Memorial, and the Washington Monument is right in the middle of it.  We were standing right under the Washington Monument.
 
You had to rely on jumbotrons (giant televisions) to see. I could see one perfectly. When I looked behind me I could barely see six inches of open space. It took so long for everyone to walk out of the Capitol Building. Sasha and Malia walked out separately from Michelle and Barack. Michelle even walked out separately from Barack.
 
The best part was the speech. I think this was because he didn’t say that he himself had to meet the problems that we have, he said that we, the people of United States, have to meet them.  Everybody needs to help.   
 
The loudest part was definitely right after the swearing in of Joe Robinette Biden and Barack Hussein Obama. It was very, very loud. Being at the inauguration was such an amazing experience that I know I will remember it for many years to come.       

Then I'd Sing, Cause I'd Know ...

We didn't make it down to DC in time to go to the "We Are One" Inaugural Concert on the Mall last night ... but I had a chance to catch -- and tear up at -- two of my musical heroes (Pete Seeger and Bruce Springsteen) singing the Woody Guthrie classic "This Land is Your Land" when HBO replayed it last night.  While my son preferred watching Beyonce lead America the Beautiful, I'll stick with Pete and Bruce signing Woody's song.  He wrote it in response to God Bless America, imagining a place where love of country could truly be an inheritance of all Americans.  They sang all 5 of Woody's verses (plus a last, hopeful one written by Pete), including the one that celebrates our public impulses over our private ones, and the one that questions what our patriotism means while others are forced into food lines.  Thanks to my friend Si Kahn, I've had the chance to meet Pete a couple of times, have him bless our kids, and sing an updated version of "Bring 'Em Home," his great anti-war hymn as part of a Working Families Party video.  One small but very meaningful part of this weekend was watching him get to sing that song at a moment when it feels, well, true.

On the way down, I kept replaying Nina Simone's singing "I Wish I Knew How it Would Feel to be Free." For me, it captures the feeling of this moment more powerfully than anything else I've heard -- because it soulfully connects the specific struggle of African-Americans for civil rights ("I wish you could know how it feels to be me, then you'd see and agree, that every man should be free") with the universal longing for freedom ("I wish I could be like a bird up in the sky, how sweet it would be if found I could fly. I'd soar up to the sun, and look down at the sea. Then I'd sing, cause I'd know, how it feels to be free"). 

I think that's Obama's gift as well, and it partially explains yesterday's New York Times/CBS poll earlier this week that Americans are simultaneously deeply hopeful, but also have realistic expectations. We both believe that he's on the right track to take concrete steps that will improve our country (like millions more people with health care), and we are inspired by him to dream of an even more utopian time when our nation could fully live up to its ideals of equality, justice, and freedom.  We know we that its a utopian, almost religious longing -- sadly, we aren't going to be able to actually soar like birds.  But it doesn't mean that its false hope.  As he has shown us, our universal longing can motivate our specific action ... and our specific action can bring us a few meaningful steps closer.