I’m 69 years old, and I’m running for mayor of Greensboro, North Carolina.
Now, I know what some of you are thinking.
“Jesus Christ, another old white guy running for office!”
And I get it!
We’ve got enough old white guys in politics to fill a retirement community.
Hell, Washington looks like an assisted living facility with nuclear weapons!
But here’s the question.
What the hell does a 69-year-old man know about the problems facing somebody who’s 25 or 30 years old?
Well, I’ll tell you what I know.
I know enough to know that I don’t know everything!
And that’s why I’m listening.
You see, I’ve started a project. I’m going to interview one thousand people about Greensboro.
One thousand!
Four simple questions.
That’s it.
I’m not asking whether you’re a Republican or a Democrat.
I’m not asking who you voted for.
I’m not asking how much money you make.
I’m asking about Greensboro.
What do you like? What don’t you like? What needs to change? And what kind of city do you want to live in?
And you know what’s happening?
People are talking!
Holy shit, are they talking!
And I’m learning things I never would have learned sitting in my living room watching the news.
Because here’s something I’ve discovered.
Everybody’s got a story. Everybody’s got an opinion. And everybody wants to be heard.
Now, think about that for a minute.
We’ve got politicians all over this country spending millions of dollars telling us what they think.
Television commercials. Billboards. Social media. Political rallies.
Everybody’s talking.
But who’s listening?
That’s the question!
Who’s actually listening to the people?
And I don’t mean listening for 30 seconds while somebody takes your picture shaking hands.
I mean really listening.
Listening without interrupting.
Listening without judging.
Listening without already having your answer prepared.
That’s what I’m trying to do.
And it’s fascinating.
Because when you start talking to people, you discover something.
We’re not nearly as different as we think we are.
Take me and Generation Z.
I grew up in an analog world.
We had rotary telephones, three television channels, and a thing called a road map.
Remember those?
Of course you don’t!
You people have never been lost in your entire fucking lives!
You’ve got GPS!
When I was your age, getting lost was part of the adventure.
You’d pull into a gas station and ask some guy named Earl how to get to Charlotte.
Earl would say, “Go down about three miles, turn left where the old barn used to be.”
Where the barn USED TO BE?
What the hell kind of directions are those?
But here’s the interesting part.
We may have grown up in completely different worlds, but we’re facing a lot of the same challenges today.
Artificial intelligence is changing everything.
Jobs are changing.
Technology is changing.
The economy is changing.
And nobody knows exactly how it’s all going to shake out.
Not me.
Not you.
Not the politicians in Washington.
Hell, half of them still can’t figure out how to mute themselves on Zoom!
And then there’s housing.
I hear people my age say, “These young people just need to quit buying those expensive coffees and save their money.”
Oh, bullshit!
You think somebody’s going to buy a $350,000 house by skipping a six-dollar latte?
What are they supposed to do?
Live to be 400?
The challenges facing younger generations deserve serious attention.
Housing affordability. Jobs. Transportation. Healthcare. The cost of living.
These aren’t abstract political issues.
They’re everyday life.
And that’s why I want to understand what people in Greensboro are experiencing.
Not what I assume they’re experiencing.
What they’re actually experiencing.
Now, I’ve lived a long time.
I’ve worked for over 40 years.
I’ve raised a family.
I’ve lived in different parts of this country.
I’ve seen cities grow, decline, reinvent themselves, and come roaring back.
And I’ve learned something along the way.
Experience is valuable. But experience without curiosity is just being old!
And I don’t want to be just old.
I want to keep learning.
I want to hear from the 23-year-old who’s trying to find a decent apartment.
I want to hear from the 30-year-old who’s starting a business.
I want to hear from the single mother trying to balance work, childcare, and transportation.
I want to hear from the retired person who wants to feel safe walking downtown.
And I want to hear from the person who thinks every idea I’ve got is completely ridiculous!
Especially that person!
Because disagreement is where you sometimes learn the most.
Now, I’ve got ideas for Greensboro.
Lots of them.
I’ve been thinking about downtown.
Transportation.
Housing.
Mental healthcare.
Public spaces.
Arts and music.
Ways to make this city more connected, more welcoming, and more enjoyable.
But here’s the thing.
My ideas aren’t automatically the best ideas just because they’re mine.
That’s why I’m doing these interviews.
I want to take what I learn and turn it into a conversation about what Greensboro could become.
And eventually, into specific plans that people can examine, challenge, and improve.
Because a good idea doesn’t care how old you are.
It doesn’t care how much money you’ve got.
It doesn’t care whether you’ve got a college degree.
A good idea is a good idea.
And sometimes the best idea in the room comes from the person nobody bothered to ask.
Now, imagine a city where people actually felt connected to their local government.
Where young people had a meaningful voice.
Where older people shared their experience without insisting that everything be done the way it was done in 1975.
Where people from different neighborhoods worked together instead of blaming each other.
And where disagreement wasn’t treated like a declaration of war.
Wouldn’t that be something?
Now, I’m not naive.
I know a mayor can’t wave a magic wand and fix everything.
There are budgets.
There are laws.
There are competing priorities.
There are people who are going to disagree.
That’s government.
But I also believe leadership begins with understanding the people you’re supposed to serve.
And that’s what this thousand-person project is about.
One thousand people.
Four questions.
One city.
And hopefully, a much better understanding of what the people of Greensboro want for their future.
So here’s where I am.
I’m 69 years old.
I’ve got experience.
I’ve got ideas.
I’ve got energy.
And I’ve got a hell of a lot more questions than answers.
And you know what?
I think that’s a pretty good place to start.
Because I’m not interested in spending the next chapter of my life talking about how great things used to be.
I’m interested in finding out how great they could become.
And that starts with a simple question.
What do you think?
Thank you, Greensboro.
Let’s keep talking.
And then let’s get to work!