In search of hope

It's no coincidence that two of the books I'm currently reading (in all my free time) address the issue of hope. My method of choosing books from the library consists of standing in line while waiting to be checked out and perusing the endcap of new selections. Finding Beauty in a Broken World by Terry Tempest Williams caught my eye a few weeks ago. Williams' name was vaguely familiar, though I don't think I've read her work before, and I had high hopes for the book. Alas, I've had a hard time following her narrative, and I was disappointed to find out there was no plot. I like plots.

On the next trip to the library, Hope and Despair in the American City by Gerald Grant appeared on the same endcap. I haven't gotten very far, but I've already been wowed anew by the pervasiveness and depth of racism in America--Grant's explanation of "redlining" gives new insight into the concept of white privilege, and I've appreciated his reflections on the process of deciding where to live. The book examines the schools of Raleigh, NC, where a county-wide school district formed in 1976 has eliminated (or at least reduced) most of the common inequities between urban schools and suburban schools. In contrast, the schools in the area around Syracuse, NY, which are divided into city and suburban districts, consistently have difficulties helping urban students reach the same levels of achievement as suburban students. It's a typical story in many cities, including Harrisburg, and if the book lives up to my expectations, I may have to buy a copy for the superintendents of Susquehanna Township and Central Dauphin Schools.

Tonight there was a widely publicized community meeting to address the recent wave of violence in Harrisburg--11 shootings in 7 days, or something dreadful like that. This is a small city--just over 47,000 people--and people are nervous. Everyone has a solution: the NAACP suggested martial law, the school district wants year-round school, others want more police on the streets, others want increased funding for youth programs, others think neighborhood watches would be effective deterrents, etc. I don't have any answers, just a sense that this is a big, multifaceted problem, that society has somehow failed our neighbors who live in poverty, particularly black men, that building a safer future means creating opportunity for all of the residents of Harrisburg.

I'd like to talk to the mothers (and fathers, though my stereotypes push me to believe them absent) of the perpetrators of the violence. While at some level I'm sure they would defend their children, can they see the craziness of it all? What resources would have been helpful for them earlier to raise their children to be law-abiding, "productive" (how I dislike that term!) citizens? Who do they blame? And what gives them hope?