Since the election, there's an elephant in the room. Or more specifically, there will be one in the Oval Office. We all had a reason why we voted the way we did. Some of us went confidently to the polls to cast our vote; others of us gulped and closed an eye while we filled the circle next to our candidate's name. For some of us, we voted on jobs and infrastructure; or for the candidate we thought could improve racial tensions; or we voted based on pro-life versus pro-choice, or immigration policy; others of us voted against anti-Muslim rhetoric or for the person who would appoint a Supreme Court justice we'd agree with; others voted out of disgust for the opposing candidate, or cast our very first third party vote. We each put a stake in the ground and said, "This. This is the issue that decides who I will vote for." In other words, we each chose the candidate that aligned with our viewpoint and said, "This is the hill I will die on." But we chose different hills.  Naturally, we believe our hill is the best hill, the most informed hill, the hill that's instrumental to move our country in the way it ought to go. We look over to the people standing on other hills and think they're idiots, racists, uninformed, clueless, or bigots because they've chosen the wrong hill (and if we're on Facebook, some of us go out of our way to let them know this.) If "those people" would have experienced what we've experienced, if they've read what we've read, if they cared one iota about this country, they would have seen the light and chose a different hill. Our hill. Can I show you another hill? 

This is the bell curve. Statistically, most of us are somewhere in the middle of this hill, some a little further to the right or left. Of course, there are extremists on the tails of this hill, but most of us are in the middle. Yet as I read comments on social media, we are treating people as if they're the extremists on the tails because they didn't choose the hill that we chose.   For some of us, our day to day lives will not be greatly affected by the outcome of this election. We may feel pride that our candidate won or disappointed that our candidate lost but for the most part, things will be okay for us. But listen--others of us will have a direct impact on our lives as a result of this election (see here, for instance)--and we need to grapple with it:  - an 8 year old boy who was born in this country and is now wondering if his parents will be deported - a former auto worker in Detroit who lost his job years ago and is on the verge of losing his home      who thinks Trump is his best hope to bring back his job  - a man who was able to receive affordable coverage under Obamacare but now he wonders if he'll    lose that coverage because of his pre-existing condition - a Muslim woman, who, after the election, feels like she may be targeted if she wears her hijab - an African American girl who felt so much hope after the election of Obama but now feels    consumed with anger and fear over the election of a man who was openly endorsed by the KKK - a small business owner who got behind Trump's plan to bring her tax rate down from 35% to 15%,    enabling her to hire more employees You may think that listening to people on the other hills seems like a commonsense thing to do. Of course it is, but we've already written them off. Chances are, we're surrounded by people who chose the same hill we did. When we're in our circle talking about the election or who we voted for, everyone nods their head because they agree with you. What would it be like if we had relationships, on a day-to-day basis, with those who may disagree or push back on our ideas? Would your vote be different if you lived next door to that 8 year old boy and his family? If your kids played with him after school? Or is his hill too far away from yours? Or what if it was your unemployed brother in Detroit whose life has been deteriorating these past few years: would your vote be different?  Have your ever been to his hill? Before you write this essay off as unprincipled fluff, here is my point. Knowing the little boy or the guy in Detroit may or may not change your vote at all. But we need to know, firsthand, that when we vote yes to a candidate, we are saying no to other things that will have a direct effect on real people. And we need to know those people, we need to hear those stories. Ultimately, we need to wrestle with the underbelly of our "yes" vote. We need to know what our "yes" is saying "no" to and we need real relationships with people who choose other hills so that we know the whole truth, with all its complexity, about our "yes". We need to think beyond the safety pins. The people on other hills have stakes in the ground and have their reason for it. It's not our reason, it's not our hill and it may never be. We chose our hill because it was important to us and because it's important to us it would be wise to engage with these issues beyond politics. We need people in our lives, people from other hills, who will tell us the truth about how this affects them and we need them to inform our decisions and efforts in the future. Listen to what experiences they've had, what have they seen or read? Do this without the agenda of debating them, proving them wrong or pointing out the flaws in their thinking. Ask questions until you get a deeper sense of where they're coming from. That's called a relationship, folks. Perhaps it will change your hill, perhaps it won't. But you will better for it. We will all be better for it.     SaveSaveSaveSaveSaveSaveSaveSave

Za'layia's funeral is today.
I've been following this story closely these past few weeks with a heavy heart.  A few weeks ago, Za'layia was jumping rope with a police officer and she asked the officer to keep her safe. And the officer couldn't. Her family couldn't. It all happened so quickly.
I can only imagine what Destiny, Za'layia's mama, is feeling today. But I do know this: I know that she loves that little girl. I know that she wanted to protect her from being hurt. 
Destiny made a statement to the press and addressed the person responsible for her daughter's death, saying "I just want whoever did this to my baby to know I don't hate you for what you did. I just need you to turn yourself in. I need justice for my baby."  
In that moment, she showed a capacity for reconciliation and compassion that simply astounded me. In the midst of her own grief, she spoke to that person without a trace of rage or contempt. I don't know if I'd have enough compassion in my heart to even speak the name of the person who took my daughter away. But Destiny--you did. Your compassion moved me deeply.
Destiny, I am sorry for the loss of your baby. She is a beautiful, precious child. We in Milwaukee hold the story of Za'layia in careful hands. We hope the person responsible steps forward so there can be justice for you & your child. We hope that grief will not spill over into violence, fear, or indifference but into greater reconciliation with each other. I hope to be a person with an extraordinary capacity for compassion toward others--a person like you. I learned that from you this week, Destiny. 
And I am deeply sorry for the price paid for this lesson. 

               Laura 

Large, inviting front porches. Walkable, well-lit streets. Shared green spaces. Sidewalks to encourage pedestrian traffic. Affordable, gorgeous, well-built homes. Close proximity to downtown. Block parties. Diversity. Children playing basketball on makeshift street courts. Neighbors greeting each other as they walk their dogs or shovel snow. Access to great schools. Bike lanes. Nearby, mixed-use commercial corridors. 
This weekend I was listening to NPR's coverage of the Mueller Community in Austin.  For those who don't follow this series, NPR is currently featuring a series of stories related to urban living in their Cities Project. 
The Mueller Community was developed as a "masterwork of smart urban design" with many of the above-listed features.  The old airport closed years ago and city planners and developers designated the 700 acres close to downtown Austin as a space for a new urban neighborhood.

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Mueller, like other new urban neighborhoods, was designed and built for people who want to foster meaningful community. The homes are built close together, each home with a large inviting front porch, garages oriented in the back yard, and sidewalks that beckon pedestrians.  In Mueller, neighbors spend time together on their porches, use the shared green spaces to celebrate birthday parties, walk their dogs, and enjoy the amenities of the neighborhood. They have easy access to downtown. They know their neighbors. Mueller, and neighborhoods like it, are built with people (not cars) in mind.
Like an Urban Mayberry.
Of course, Mueller is not the first neighborhood in the new urbanist movement. Most new urban neighborhoods have marketed themselves as sustainable, energy-efficient, diverse, walkable, mixed-use spaces with high population density and smart public transport. They offer a range of housing types (apartments, condos, single family) to encourage a diverse, vibrant market and range of affordability.
And people are buying. 
Buyers in new urban neighborhoods are drawn to mental pictures of diversity, of multiracial children playing in the streets under the watchful eye of nearby adults sitting on a front porch and enjoying conversation after a long day at work. They imagine walking their dogs and stopping for an impromptu chat on the sidewalk.  They see themselves walking to a park on a Saturday to relax, or biking to the nearby cafe for a morning coffee and the newspaper. It's idyllic. They imagine a rich life, full of diverse friendships and meaningful connections. 
I'm going to take a risk here and say that most of us say we want to live meaningful lives with diverse friendships, but our choices do not reflect that. 
Let's be honest. There is not a single thing new about this "new urbanism". My 100 year old neighborhood touts all the features of new urbanist design, but to a better degree. The housing stock is better quality, more affordable, and the proximity is closer to downtown than many new urban neighborhoods. Yet there is no buzz, no media coverage, no frenzy of people buying up homes and developing the commercial corridors here.  
You know why. We don't know how to right the ship of existing urban neighborhoods, so we build new ships. It's hard not to take it personally when developers and buyers would rather build an exact replica of my neighborhood (except use cheaper materials and craftsmanship), situate it farther from downtown, and pay three times more for said cheaper home farther away just so they don't have to live in my neighborhood. What a bitter taste it leaves in my mouth.  I cannot even imagine how some of my neighbors felt over the years as most white people moved out of the city and build whole new suburban societies that solely existed to exclude them.

I'm not mad at these new urban developments. I like sustainable, human-scaled, pedestrian neighborhoods as much as anyone in the new urbanist movement.  I'm happy that people are recognizing an inherent need for community and are choosing to live in a built environment that promotes knowing one's neighbor. But let's call it what it is and it's certainly not a "new" thing. Let's call it Plan B. Because Plan A (moving into existing neighborhoods) is seen as just too hard.
We moved into the city of Milwaukee eight years ago for economic and relational reasons. When we were looking for our first home, we were living on the single salary of a full-time musician while I finished grad school.  Obviously, our main determinate of a home was the price. We found a beautiful home we liked and accepted a dinner invitation from potential neighbors to hear more about the neighborhood before we committed to buy. From that dinner, we learned that many people had been moving to this neighborhood over the past 13 years to live in intentional community with each other. 
We decided to buy that home, partially because the price was right and partially because we were just naive and adventurous enough to try something new. After telling people we planned to "move into the city" we received one of two responses:
1. "Wow, that's awesome. You must feel really called to the city. But I could never do that." 2. "You are crazy. Do you know what it's like there?" And as it turns out, we are neither crazy (that we know of) or dead, which is what the media would have you believe.
As we see it, it makes perfect sense for my husband (who works downtown) to enjoy a short commute on city streets rather than languishing in his car on the interstate. It makes sense for us to have an affordable, well-built home in a neighborhood that both stretches and enriches us beyond measure. We know and enjoy our neighbors. And our children are delighted with spontaneous play with neighborhood kids and invitations from empty nester neighbors to come and jump in the leaf pile in their front yard. 
We sold our first home after living there for seven years and bought a boarded-up home one block away. Although this time we had the resources to buy elsewhere, we decided to purchase the boarded-up house without the naiveté we had the first time. I am thankful we had the opportunity to choose this neighborhood for a second time.
Yes, living in a diverse neighborhood has its challenges. I have looked foolish. I have said or done the wrong thing at the wrong time; I have had moments when people challenge my point of view and I don't know what to say. I have had moments when I felt unsafe. But if I combined those moments together, they are outshone by the moments when I have enjoyed a block party, a spontaneous conversation with a neighbor, a helping hand from a neighbor with a snowblower, an 8-year-long-standing weekly dinner invitation from friends down the street, or a peaceful night on my front porch.
And it's more stimulating, more challenging and more rewarding than anywhere else I've lived. 
Of course, not everyone wants to live in an urban area. But for those of you who get excited about these new urban developments, please consider neighborhoods like mine as a viable option: we are the new urbanism. The urbanism that revives and restores, not the kind that builds from scratch and attempts to fill it so it can be considered "urban". We have the opportunity and challenge to experience revival in these neighborhoods. We are the next new thing. We are the Insiders. We are not Plan B.     We need you, you Architects of Community, you Dreamers, you Entrepreneurs, you Artists, you Young Families, you Empty Nesters, you Change Agents. Not to be the savior of this neighborhood and neighborhoods like this, but just to be here, to live here, to bring your ideas and families here to experience the richness and diversity of living on the inside.  That is the new urbanism.