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A little hope for civility |
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Written by JACK KNOX
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Monday, 21 July 2008 |
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STATISTICS CANADAJACK KNOXVICTORIA TIMES COLONIST
"Angelina, congratulations on the twins," I say. "But did you really have to name one after me? Angie, baby, I know I ruined you for any other man, but you've got to let it go. Just settle for this Brad Pitt guy and try to be happy." Then I realize the voice on the phone isn't hers, isn't even listening. "The local number you have called must be preceded by its area code," it says.
Damn. It's that annoying Telus woman.
"Your call will now proceed," her voice continues, as though she's doing me a big favour, all smug and self-righteous and nagging. "For future calls to this number, please dial the area code."
"Shut up," I tell the recording.
"You shut up," it replies.
Ah, just another sign of the ill-tempered dysfunction that Statistics Canada says is plaguing us. The agency issued a report last week showing one in five Canadians to be concerned about "social incivility" -- drunkenness, noise, homelessness -- in our neighbourhoods.
Which brings us to the parable of the Clare Street Book Exchange Box.
It stands not that far from where I live, in front of Angela Evans' house.
Resembling a big, gaily painted birdhouse with a glass door, it's a neighbourhood library, a place for residents to pick up a new book or drop off an old one once read.
It's also a sign of civility -- one of the many little dabs of glue that hold the neighbourhood together.
Evans built the book box this spring, using a recycled window and plywood scavenged from a neighbour's old deck, decorating the peaked roof with tiles peeled from a discarded disco ball. (Who would discard a perfectly good disco ball?) An urban planner, Evans thinks she borrowed the book-box idea from the City Repair Project in Portland, Ore. "I'm really passionate about retrofitting our existing communities so we can live more sustainably," she says.
So far, so good. The box is well-used. "I've met people I've never met before," Evans says. "There's one woman who comes every morning with two kids." Maybe 50 books were piled inside the other day: Famous British Poets, a John Grisham thriller, Peter Gzowski's The Game Of Our Lives.
But the book box is just one example of what makes Clare, a one-block street of modestly sized homes on small lots, special. Residents hold a New Year's party and a summer barbecue that spans three backyards. An e-mail exchange lets neighbours know who's going shopping, just in case somebody wants to car pool or needs some bread and milk. (This sets it apart from Surrey, where neighbours just exchange gunfire.) Someone erected a tire swing, hung it from a tree out front where all the neighbourhood kids could use it. Basketball hoops invite street games. One front-yard patio features Cafe Clare -- a table and chairs that serve as a gathering point. Older kids look out for younger ones. Everybody knows everybody's name.
"It is the most amazing little block," says Cheryl Carters-Rolfe, a mother of three who moved here from North Vancouver. She and her husband rented on Clare Street for six months before asking a neighbour if he would be willing to sell. He said yes. That was two years ago. "We've never looked back." In her North Van suburb, the physical distance between neighbours left Carters-Rolfe feeling isolated. On Clare, front yards are small enough that those practised in the art of expectoration can hit the street.
Such proximity is important to community-building, Evans says. Residents need semi-public space, the opportunity to interact spontaneously. It helps to live in houses set close to the road, on streets that aren't separated by vast expanses of median and boulevard.
What Evans calls "mutual obligation" helps, too, the idea that neighbours can count on and owe each other for small kindnesses -- a borrowed bulb of garlic, a ride to the pool, whatever. Nothing like a toilet-paper crisis to draw a community together.
A book box helps, too. Some people see the box and wonder if it will get vandalized, being out in public like that.
"This is such an act of faith," a visitor from Ontario told Evans. She acknowledges the potential for incivility, but shrugs it off: "Most people are good, given an opportunity to express it."
Jack Knox writes for the Victoria Times Colonist. His column appears each Tuesday in The Citizen. He can be reached at
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Last Updated ( Monday, 21 July 2008 )
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