assume we know what people need; instead, we ask them directly. The more neighbors who weigh in on the design, the better.”
A mother with three school-aged children walks up to the board. One, in glittery sneakers, follows gripping the hem of her mother’s skirt. She likes slides, she tells Simmons. He points to a poster of some play equipment. “We can build a really fun slide in the new park,” he assures her.
Looking on is Manuel Santos, who lives across the street from Kiwanis- Methow. He lived in Acapulco, Mexico, before moving to the States and play- ing semi-professional soccer—so he’s glad to see the proposed park design includes a pitch.
“I grew up kicking a ball in the dirt, jumping from tree to tree, even mak- ing toys from the natural world,” he says. That kind of childhood gave him a connection to nature he feels is lost in cities—but can be at least in part re- claimed in parks. “If you touch a tree or if you roll in the grass, you feel it,” he says. “Something comes back and forth. When you hug a tree it’s good for you
60 · LAND&PEOPLE · FALL/WINTER 2016
and good for the tree, too.” The neighborhood won’t have to wait much longer for a place to make these connections—with the natural world and with each other. Once out- reach, design, and site engineering are complete, groundbreaking could take place as early as 2018. A community fixture since the mapping meetings and foothills campaign, Trust for Public Land staff will stay on to facilitate community engagement and manage the park’s construction.
“Needs in this community can
often feel overwhelming,” says Misael Fajardo-Perez, the local minister. We have poverty and drug problems, and a lack of good infrastructure. But the park improvements are bringing people into the process, giving residents a sense of power and ownership. They see the park renovated, and it gives them hope. They ask, what’s next?” he says. The answers for the region as whole are uncertain. In the abstract, land- use issues across the West are often portrayed in terms of controversy, as if residents are either for conservation or against it. That sense of intractabil-
ity—of warring factions dug into their trenches—can make the future of conservation efforts in the West look tenuous, at best. Take a look at ground level, though, and the picture is more complex—and, The Trust for Public Land’s Jason Cor- zine believes, more promising. “The past decade-plus in Wenatchee has proven there are things we can do to help communities strike a balance between growth and conservation,” Cor- zine says. “But it takes a depth of exper- tise: mapping conservation priorities, securing the land, talking to neighbors, designing the parks—and finding the re- sources to support each step. It requires a facilitator—one that’s committed to making sure the community owns and drives the process.”
Fajardo-Perez agrees. “This is about helping people voice who they are,” he says. “You have to bring people together and honor their culture.”
That’s no small undertaking, to be sure. But put the task to someone from Wenatchee and they may first ask you: have you met your neighbors?
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