"Really?" she said.
"Really," he answered. "We posted it on our Facebook wall. Everyone who participates get a free loaf of fresh cinnamon raisin bread. Because we love this project and want everyone to come."
True story. Happened when I was filming in Buffalo (the reason I didn't post anything new for three weeks). It captures why I have fallen truly/madly/deeply in Buffalove. Not because I'm a carb addict, but because I'm a community addict. And Buffalo is my new drug.
I thought I was crazy when we ended filming and experienced sudden, acute separation anxiety from a city where I'd spent only 11 days. What about this old Rust Belt town was calling me home?
I wouldn't have put my finger on it if I hadn't just finished reading The Social Animal: The Hidden Sources of Love, Character, and Achievement by David Brooks. (Cliff notes TED talk here, but really, this is a fantastic read and you should get the whole book.)
Drawing on the wide field of brain science, Brooks explores how our unconscious impacts all aspects of our life, from academics to politics to neighborhoods. At one point, he talks about the "shallow view" society shaped by a 20th century emphasis on material development that ultimately broke down the "social and emotional development that underpins it."
Other forces were at work too:
- The cultural revolution broke down old habits and traditional family structures.
- The economic revolution replaced downtowns with sprawl.
- The information revolution replaced face-to-face community organizations and instead sent people alone in smaller, more self-selecting, more identical communities. (As Brooks puts it, "like found like.")
But not in Buffalo.
As interviewee after interviewee for our project pointed out, Buffalo's economic hardships in the latter part of the 20th century saved the elements of its society that support its revival today. Case in point:
- They never knocked down their old buildings or houses to build new ones.
- They kept their park system largely intact.
- They came to rely on grassroots organizing to achieve community-centric goals.
- They made a point of knowing and relying on their neighbors.
Now, it's not all rainbow-farting unicorns. The metro area is still in search of a new post-manufacturing economy. Their medical corridor holds promise, as do the energy and arts sectors, but none have emerged as the winning ticket just yet.
That said, the city has a lot going for it, not the least of which is its depth of community. And that's precisely what had me checking real estate listings by the end of the week. Something deep in my unconscious suddenly realized it was tired of transience, of living in a place with a shifting, nondescript point of view. And it got really, really excited about the idea of supporting local artists. Of joining a block club. Of knowing my mailman's name.
In my opinion, Buffalo shows us how we can reinstate the social systems that hold us together and meld them with the march of progress. When Buffalonians look at their city, they don't see the Rust Belt/snow-encased stereotype the rest of the country pokes fun at. They see neighbors working together. They see progress and reinvention. And they see it all all happening right now. Not in some distant, amorphous future, but in real time, as we speak.
Buffalo is a city well under way. We need to keep an eye on it. Better yet, we should participate in it, whether there or in our own communities. As native Meg Baco commented to me before, "Remember, my one word for Buffalo is POSSIBLE. Anyone can be a Buffalonian, no matter where they are."
It's time to discard the shallow view. It's time to be the Buffalo.
Note: This week's prayer is dedicated to all the generous, helpful, hopeful people we've met thus far who make our Buffalo Unscripted project -- and their hometown -- such a joy to be a part of.
Prayer #174: Rooted
I have no leaves, no branches, no bark or stem or petal. But I have roots that go deep, back to some primordial cave where individualism was not yet invented and connectedness was king.
My roots start at the spot in my chest that leaps when I near home. They snake through my legs and grip the soil in places that make my heart sing. They radiate out -- stealthy, subtle sentinels -- in constant search for others' cords to earth. For we are designed to be entwined.
Source of all things solid and growing, help my roots go deeper. Tangle them in knots and twists so I am that much stronger. Show me what it means to truly stand with others.