Dirt Stained Knees and Neighbors
Buzz Bense

The flyer taped to the lamppost is clear: “Patricia’s Green Gardening Day. Saturday November 8, 2009 10 AM - 1 PM. Lend a hand and make new friends.”

Patricia’s Green is the sweet little park at the end of Octavia Boulevard. As soon as it opened, it became a magnet. There are always people there. I love this bit of brilliant urban planning, and how it has made Hayes Valley more humane.

I have been building community in many ways during my adult life. Because of my temperament, and how I process information, sitting in a room of people talk, talk talking, has never given me the experience of community.

For me, the opportunity to literally roll up my sleeves, get dirty, and make a positive change in my neighborhood seems like great fun and most satisfying. So that Saturday morning I put on my oldest jeans, a flannel shirt, old work boots, grabbed a pair of gloves and set off for the park.

About a half a dozen other folks were there. The park department had dumped loads of mulch chips all over the raised plant beds, and we set off weeding, pulling trash out of the vegetation, me on hands and knees throughout the bed, enjoying the work and getting dirty.

Of course we chatted while we worked. Bob told me about his Mexican cruise. Henry recounted how he had grown to love gardening growing up in New Jersey. We talked about the big No on 8 protest rally that happened the night before. We asked each other how long we’ve lived here—I’ve lived on Oak Street for four and a half years.

As I was grunting and sweating to cut back a tough bush, a little boy came over, hanging onto his mother’s hand. “Is that a loppers?” he asked. ”Why, yes it is. You are so smart!” I replied. “Would you like to try to use it?” He looked at his mom and she nodded it was OK. “I’ll help you. You hold this part, and I’ll grab this part and now we’re going to puuuuuush!” The branch snapped off, and beaming with satisfaction, he skipped back to his mom’s hand. “What do you say?” prompted Mom. “Thank you,’ he politely replied, and with big smiles they walked off.

A young woman walked by. Thank you, it looks great,” she called musically. “You’re welcome,” I replied. It seemed that people’s joy in being in the park increased seeing that a crew of neighbors was there, caring for it.

We wrapped up by planting 20 or so plants, tidying the mulch, picking up garbage, and collecting tools. The park definitely looked like it had been cared for. We were all sweaty and smiling, with a sense of accomplishment through a group effort.

Photo:Paul Olsen

I said my goodbyes. Henry called out—“Be sure to change your jeans before your date tonight!” “Hey Henry, you don’t think that a guy with dirt-stained jeans is sexy? I do!”

When I hear someone complain that there is no sense of community in San Francisco, I have to bite my tongue to not respond “Well what are you DOING to make it happen? Sometimes building community is hugely complex and complicated, like the alliances gays need to build with the African American community. But sometimes it can be as simple as getting out of the house and participating.

Walking home, I felt part of my neighborhood, and thought of how we’d made this little park our own, and laughed and bonded and felt like neighbors - good neighbors - while we worked. To me, THAT is a real sense of community.