The Parking Lot Where We Used to Vote

When Buildings Held More Than Memory

The old Riverside Elementary gymnasium isn’t just gone. It’s been replaced by a 200-space parking lot that sits next to the new urgent care clinic. I mention this because for thirty-seven years, that gym was our polling place for District 12. More importantly, it was where the Riverside Neighborhood Association held monthly meetings, where the after-school program kids learned to play basketball, and where we gathered every time the city wanted to rezone something we cared about.

The Parking Lot Where We Used to Vote
The Parking Lot Where We Used to Vote

The building came down in 2019. What we lost wasn’t just bricks and mortar. We lost what organizers call “civic infrastructure”, the physical spaces where democracy actually happens. The urgent care clinic is useful, sure. But you can’t hold a community meeting in a medical waiting room. You can’t teach kids to organize a bake sale in a parking lot.

This matters more than you might think. When we talk about grassroots organizing, we focus on tactics and strategies. We forget that organizing needs geography. It needs places where neighbors can argue, plan, and figure things out together.

Illustration for The Parking Lot Where We Used to Vote
Illustration for The Parking Lot Where We Used to Vote

The Mechanics of Showing Up

Real organizing starts with showing up to things that seem boring. I learned this the hard way in 2018 when our neighborhood was fighting a proposed gas station at the corner of Maple and Third. The developer had filed paperwork months earlier. The planning commission meeting was scheduled for a Tuesday at 7 PM. Exactly four residents showed up.

We lost. Obviously. But here’s what I learned: the city posts agendas online every Friday for the following week’s meetings. Most people don’t know this. The ones who do know it rarely read past the first item. This is how decisions get made, not in smoke-filled rooms, but in fluorescent-lit conference rooms where nobody’s paying attention.

The gas station opened eight months later. But we started reading those agendas. We created a simple email list that now reaches 340 households. Every Friday, three of us divide up the agenda and send out a plain-English summary of what’s actually happening. Not everything matters, but when something does, people know about it in advance.

This isn’t revolutionary. It’s clerical work. But clerical work is how you build power.

What the Data Actually Shows

The Riverside Neighborhood Association used to average forty-three people at monthly meetings. I know this because Sarah Martinez, who was secretary for twelve years, kept meticulous attendance records. She tracked not just numbers but names, noting who spoke up and who stayed quiet, who came once and who came every month.

After we lost the elementary school meeting space, we bounced between the library community room, the back room at Murphy’s Diner, and various living rooms. Average attendance dropped to eighteen people. More telling: we lost our regulars. The folks who used to stop by after picking up their kids from the gym now had to make a separate trip to wherever we were meeting that month.

Geography matters. Convenience matters. The difference between forty-three people and eighteen people is the difference between having enough voices to influence a city council vote and having just enough to complain about it afterward.

We finally found a permanent home at the Eastside Community Center. It’s not perfect, parking is tight and the acoustics are terrible, but it’s consistent. Attendance is back up to thirty-one people on average. We’re rebuilding, but we’re still down a quarter of our membership from the elementary school days.

The Tools That Actually Work

Here’s what works: phone trees, not social media. We have a list of twelve people who each call ten others when something urgent comes up. Takes about forty minutes to reach 120 households. Facebook posts reach maybe twenty percent of your followers, and those are usually the people who already agree with you.

Here’s what else works: potluck meetings. Food gets people to stay longer. When people stay longer, they volunteer for things. When they volunteer, they become invested. When they’re invested, they show up to city council meetings on weeknight evenings to testify about storm water management or crosswalk timing.

One-on-one conversations work better than group presentations. If you want someone to run for school board, don’t announce it at a meeting. Buy them coffee and ask directly. Most people say yes to specific requests and no to general calls for help.

Paper flyers still work, especially in neighborhoods where internet access is spotty or where older residents don’t check email regularly. We print 800 copies of meeting announcements and walk them to every door in our area. Takes six volunteers about three hours on a Saturday morning. Costs thirty-seven dollars at the copy shop downtown.

Building on What Remains

The elementary school is gone. The gas station is here to stay. But the relationships we built fighting that first battle led to three successful campaigns to improve crosswalk visibility, one successful push for a new bus stop, and ongoing work to establish a community garden on the vacant lot next to the fire station.

More importantly, we’ve learned to work with what exists instead of mourning what’s gone. The community center isn’t perfect, but it has tables and chairs and reliable heat. The urgent care clinic needed community input on their landscaping plans, so we organized neighbors to advocate for native plants and better sidewalk connections.

The infrastructure of democracy isn’t just buildings and meeting spaces. It’s people who know how to read agendas, who understand the difference between zoning variances and special use permits, who can explain why storm water drainage affects property values. It’s the network of relationships that makes it possible to get thirty people to a city council meeting on two days’ notice.

That infrastructure doesn’t build itself. It requires the same kind of maintenance as any other public good. Regular attention, modest resources, and people willing to do work that often goes unnoticed.

If you want to get started in your own neighborhood, come to our next meeting. We’re still figuring things out, but we’ve learned a few things about what works. Plus, there’s always decent coffee and someone usually brings cookies.