Let me tell you about something that happened this week.
Tuesday evening, I went down to Greensboro City Hall to address our City Council and mayor.
I had three minutes.
Three minutes to talk about the future of a city I’ve called home for more than 30 years.
Now, I’ve been around for 69 years. I’ve survived three cancers, raised a family, built businesses, and traveled around the world.
And apparently, I’ve got three minutes to talk about Greensboro.
Hell, it takes me longer than that to get out of bed some mornings!
But I went.
And I spoke.
And I made my case.
Now, here’s the interesting part.
Before that meeting, I had sent every single City Council member and the mayor a detailed email explaining what I was trying to accomplish.
I wasn’t showing up out of nowhere.
I wasn’t just some guy wandering in off Elm Street looking for a microphone.
Although, come to think of it, that’s not a bad idea!
I had done my homework.
I had laid out my vision for Greensboro.
A city that could become something extraordinary.
A city where we rethink downtown, transportation, housing, mental healthcare, economic opportunity, and most importantly, how we bring people together.
I’m not saying I’ve got all the answers.
Hell, if I had all the answers, I’d be sitting on a beach somewhere drinking a margarita!
But I’ve got ideas.
And I’ve got energy.
And I’ve got something else.
I’ve got a willingness to listen.
That’s why I’ve started a project to interview a thousand Greensboro residents.
One thousand people.
Not politicians.
Not consultants.
Not lobbyists.
Regular people.
People who live here, work here, raise their families here, and wonder what the hell happened to the American dream.
I want to know what they love about Greensboro.
What they don’t love.
What they’d change.
And what they think this city could become.
Because I’ve got a crazy idea.
Maybe we ought to ask the people who live in a city what they want their city to look like!
Revolutionary concept, isn’t it?
Anyway, back to Tuesday.
I finished my three minutes.
No questions.
No discussion.
No conversation.
And I walked out.
Now, I understand there are rules.
I understand public comment isn’t necessarily a question-and-answer session.
And I understand that city government has procedures.
But here’s what happened next.
Wednesday morning, I sent another email.
Again, to the mayor and City Council.
I reiterated what I was trying to accomplish.
I explained my intentions.
I extended the opportunity for a conversation.
And as of today?
Nothing.
Not a word.
Not an acknowledgment.
Not even a polite little email saying, “Thank you for your interest in Greensboro.”
Hell, I get more communication from the Nigerian prince who wants to give me $14 million!
Now, to be fair, it’s only been a couple of days.
People are busy.
City Council members have responsibilities.
And I don’t expect anybody to drop everything they’re doing because John Eagleton sent an email.
But this experience raises a much bigger question.
What does citizen engagement actually mean?
We hear politicians talk about it all the time.
Community involvement!
Public participation!
Transparency!
Listening to the people!
Wonderful words.
But what happens when somebody actually shows up?
What happens when a citizen takes the time to study the issues, develop ideas, write to elected officials, and stand before the council?
Is the process simply designed to let that person speak for three minutes?
Or is there supposed to be some kind of relationship between the people and the people they elect?
Because I think we’ve gotten something backward.
City Hall doesn’t belong to the mayor.
It doesn’t belong to City Council.
It belongs to the people of Greensboro.
The mayor and council members are temporary custodians of something that belongs to all of us.
And that’s an important distinction.
Now, I’m not suggesting every citizen who sends an email deserves an immediate personal meeting with the mayor.
That would be ridiculous.
But I do believe citizens deserve an accessible, responsive government.
And I believe our elected officials should be interested in hearing ideas, especially when those ideas come from people willing to do the work.
Because that’s what I’m trying to do.
I’m not asking the city to write me a check.
I’m not asking for a government contract.
I’m not asking anybody to name a building after me.
Although, at 69, I wouldn’t mind a public restroom with my name on it!
Preferably one that’s open 24 hours!
I’m asking for a conversation.
That’s it.
A conversation about what Greensboro can become.
And here’s something I’ve learned from talking to people.
You don’t have to agree with somebody to learn something from them.
You don’t have to belong to the same political party.
You don’t have to be the same age.
You don’t have to come from the same neighborhood.
You just have to be willing to listen.
And that’s what concerns me about government today.
Too often, communication seems to flow in one direction.
Politicians speak.
Citizens listen.
Politicians announce.
Citizens react.
Politicians make decisions.
Citizens live with them.
But shouldn’t it work both ways?
Shouldn’t government be an ongoing conversation?
Not just three minutes at a microphone once a month?
Look, Greensboro has enormous potential.
We’ve got universities.
We’ve got talented young people.
We’ve got history.
We’ve got culture.
We’ve got neighborhoods filled with people who care deeply about this community.
We’ve also got serious challenges.
Housing affordability.
Homelessness.
Mental healthcare.
Economic opportunity.
Public safety.
And a downtown that could become something truly special.
These aren’t problems that one mayor or nine council members can solve by themselves.
They’re problems that require an entire community.
And that’s why I’m doing these thousand interviews.
Because I want to hear from the people who don’t ordinarily get invited into the room.
The bartender.
The schoolteacher.
The college student.
The retiree.
The single mother working two jobs.
The young person wondering whether Greensboro is a place where they can build a future.
Those voices matter.
And I intend to listen to them.
Now, maybe I’ll hear back from City Hall next week.
I hope I do.
I’d welcome the conversation.
But whether I get a response or not, I’m going to keep doing what I’m doing.
I’m going to keep talking to people.
I’m going to keep asking questions.
I’m going to keep developing ideas.
And I’m going to keep showing up.
Because here’s the thing.
Democracy doesn’t begin and end at the ballot box.
Voting is essential.
But democracy also means participating.
Asking questions.
Holding people accountable.
Offering solutions.
And sometimes standing in front of a room full of elected officials and saying something they might not have expected to hear.
That’s not disrespectful.
That’s citizenship.
And at 69 years old, I’ve decided I’m not going to spend the rest of my life sitting on the sidelines complaining about what’s wrong.
I’d rather get involved and try to make something better.
So to the mayor and City Council of Greensboro, my invitation remains open.
Let’s talk.
Let’s exchange ideas.
Let’s listen to the people.
And let’s see what we can accomplish together.
Because I believe Greensboro’s best days can still be ahead of us.
But getting there is going to require something more than three-minute speeches.
It’s going to require conversations.
It’s going to require imagination.
And it’s going to require people willing to challenge the way things have always been done.
And if City Hall isn’t ready for that conversation yet, that’s okay.
Because I’ve got a thousand Greensboro residents I want to talk to.
And unlike City Council…
I’m giving every one of them more than three fucking minutes!
Thank you.