How Did I Get Here (19 page)

The foundation’s true mission, it turns out, goes beyond simply giving skateboarders a curvy place to play. We’ve discovered that the benefits that derive from the process of getting a skatepark built, while not tangible or quantifiable, can be just as valuable as the product itself. If it’s done right, a skatepark project can teach young people a lifelong lesson in the power of perseverance, and remind adults that kids with funny haircuts and pierced lips not only can be good people, but also can get things done.

Despite all of the mainstream credibility that skateboarding has received in recent years, many adults still regard skaters as disrespectful troublemakers. Business owners chase them away. City officials pass ordinances to impede them. Police give them tickets. Stigmatized as outsiders, many skateboarders grow up feeling disenfranchised, and the institutionalized image of skaters as delinquents becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.

In a lot of towns, though, a skatepark—and the effort that goes into getting one built—has proven to be the perfect hammer to break that cycle. At its best, it works like this: A skater gets in trouble (maybe a ticket, maybe a call home from the principal) and complains to his mom and dad that he has no place to skate. His parents persuade him to write a letter to City Hall, or to attend a city council meeting. The kid gets some friends together, puts on his cleanest shirt, sits through a boring meeting, and then makes a nervous but respectful plea for a skatepark. City officials, impressed by the courteous request, decide that it’s a good idea and order their parks-and-recreation staff to look into it. The city agrees to donate land for the skatepark but requires the skaters to find the money to build it.

With the help of one or two city officials and a handful of parents, the kids form a committee and spend the next year or two raising money and community awareness. They apply for grants. They hold car washes, barbecues, raffles, and skate-a-thons. They do yard work for their neighbors and donate the wages to the skatepark fund. Eventually, the whole town rallies behind the determined youth brigade. The police chief writes an editorial in the local newspaper praising the kids for their efforts. The local Lions Club holds a pancake breakfast, and the hometown newspaper runs a photo of some beribboned World War II vet flipping flapjacks for skaters.

This is when attitudes change. The kids realize that the adults really want to help them, and the adults realize that the kids are willing to work hard for this thing they love. Most important, the kids discover that they can actually accomplish something by working within the system rather than beating their heads against it or sitting at home complaining about it. They learn how to communicate in a way that will encourage adults to listen, and they go from feeling alienated to empowered.

I don’t want to sound sappy, but I’m convinced that when teenagers, parents, police, politicians, business leaders, and civic groups all get together and push the same wheel, and that wheel actually turns, the effort alone makes the world a slightly better place.

Not to mention that the kids end up with a place to skate.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS