I’ve been thinking a lot lately.
Now, at 69 years old, I’ve had plenty of time to think.
I’ve lived through some pretty extraordinary things.
I was born in 1957, when segregation was still the law in much of America.
I grew up during the civil rights movement.
I watched young people stand up against the Vietnam War.
I lived across the street from NASA in Houston when ordinary men and women were doing something extraordinary.
They were putting human beings on the moon.
And what I’ve learned from all those experiences is something pretty simple.
Ordinary people can accomplish extraordinary things when they come together around a common purpose.
And I think we’ve forgotten that.
Somewhere along the way, we started believing that somebody else was supposed to solve our problems.
Some politician.
Some government agency.
Some billionaire.
Somebody.
Anybody but us.
Well, I’ve got a different idea.
What if we started listening to each other again?
What if we stopped arguing long enough to actually have a conversation?
What if we started asking people what they need instead of telling them what they ought to want?
Over the last several months, I’ve been talking to strangers.
Hundreds of them.
Young people. Old people. Black people. White people. Rich people. Poor people.
People who agree with me.
People who don’t agree with me about a damn thing.
And you know what I’ve discovered?
We’re not nearly as different as we’ve been led to believe.
We all want pretty much the same things.
We want to feel safe.
We want to be treated fairly.
We want a decent place to live.
We want an opportunity to earn a living.
We want our children to have a better future than we did.
And we want to feel like we belong somewhere.
That’s really not asking too much, is it?
But somehow we’ve made it incredibly complicated.
Take housing.
How in the world did we create a society where young people can work full-time jobs and still can’t afford a place to live?
How does that make sense?
And then we turn around and tell them they ought to quit buying five-dollar coffees.
Are you kidding me?
The problem isn’t the coffee.
The problem is that we’ve allowed the American dream to become unaffordable for millions of Americans.
And I think we can do better.
Or take mental health.
I’ve been seeing a therapist for more than ten years.
And I’ll tell you something.
It’s one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.
Sometimes in life, you just need somebody to talk to.
Somebody who listens.
Somebody who helps you figure things out.
But why should getting that kind of help depend on how much money you make?
Why should someone experiencing a mental health crisis have to wait weeks or months for treatment?
Why do we keep treating mental healthcare like it’s some kind of luxury?
It’s healthcare.
Period.
And then there’s homelessness.
I don’t believe anybody grows up dreaming of sleeping on a sidewalk.
Something happened along the way.
Maybe they lost their job.
Maybe they developed an addiction.
Maybe they’re struggling with mental illness.
Maybe life just knocked them down.
Whatever the reason, walking past them and pretending they don’t exist isn’t a solution.
We can do better.
And what about our young people?
I’m a baby boomer.
And I’ve been spending a lot of time with Generation Z.
Now, we have our differences.
I grew up with a rotary telephone.
They grew up with a computer in their pocket.
I had to go to the library to find information.
They can ask a question and get an answer before I’ve finished putting on my reading glasses.
But here’s what I’ve discovered.
These young people are smart.
They’re creative.
They’re technologically sophisticated.
And they’re asking some really important questions about the world they’re inheriting.
Instead of complaining about them, why aren’t we inviting them to help build the future?
I want their energy.
I want their imagination.
I want their ideas.
And I want them sitting at the table when decisions are made.
Because they’re going to be living with those decisions a lot longer than I am.
Now, let’s talk about something else.
Community.
Remember community?
Remember when people knew their neighbors?
When downtown was a place you went to see people?
When music brought strangers together?
When parks were filled with families?
When people could sit outside at a café and watch the world go by?
I believe we can have that again.
Imagine a downtown filled with music and art.
Beautiful pedestrian walkways.
Outdoor cafés.
Green spaces.
Public gathering places.
A place where people don’t just come to work and then leave.
A place where they want to spend time.
Imagine neighborhoods connected by safe, convenient transportation.
Imagine parking outside the busiest areas and having easy ways to get wherever you want to go.
Imagine a place where you don’t necessarily need a car to enjoy everything your community has to offer.
Imagine a place where artists, musicians, entrepreneurs, and young families all have an opportunity to thrive.
And imagine a government that actually encourages those ideas instead of finding reasons they can’t happen.
Because I’ve noticed something over the years.
Whenever somebody comes up with a big idea, there’s always somebody standing nearby explaining why it won’t work.
It’s too expensive.
It’s too complicated.
We’ve never done it that way before.
Well, thank goodness the people at NASA didn’t think that way.
We’d still be staring at the moon.
And thank goodness four young college students didn’t think that way when they sat down at a lunch counter and demanded to be treated equally.
They didn’t wait for somebody to give them permission to change the world.
They just started.
And that’s what I believe we need to do.
Start.
Start talking.
Start listening.
Start imagining.
Start building.
And stop waiting for somebody else to do it.
Now, I’ve been working on something.
It’s a pretty ambitious project.
I’m setting out to have one thousand conversations with ordinary people.
Not political insiders.
Not consultants.
Not lobbyists.
Just people.
And I’m asking four simple questions.
What do you love about where you live?
What don’t you like?
What would you change?
And what would you like to see in the future?
That’s it.
Four questions.
And the answers have been extraordinary.
Because when you give people an opportunity to speak, something wonderful happens.
They begin to believe their voices matter.
And they do matter.
Every single one of them.
I’ve come to believe that the greatest resource any community has isn’t its buildings.
It isn’t its roads.
It isn’t its tax base.
It’s its people.
Their creativity.
Their experience.
Their hopes.
Their dreams.
Their willingness to work together.
And I think it’s time we started treating them that way.
Now, I realize I’m 69 years old.
Some people might think that’s an odd time in life to start something new.
But I see it differently.
I’ve spent nearly seven decades learning.
I’ve raised a family.
I’ve built businesses.
I’ve made mistakes.
I’ve had successes.
I’ve survived some things I wasn’t sure I’d survive.
And I’ve learned that life is an extraordinary gift.
But there’s something else I’ve learned.
Experience doesn’t mean much unless you’re willing to put it to work.
And I don’t intend to spend the rest of my life sitting around talking about how things used to be.
I’m interested in how things could be.
I’m interested in the future.
I’m interested in bringing people together.
I’m interested in seeing what happens when ordinary people start believing they can accomplish extraordinary things.
And I’ve decided I’m not going to sit on the sidelines anymore.
I’m going to get involved.
I’m going to listen.
I’m going to learn.
I’m going to challenge the way things have always been done.
And I’m going to invite everybody who wants to participate to come along.
Because I believe the next great chapter of our story hasn’t been written yet.
And I believe we can write it together.
So, after 69 years of living, learning, listening, and thinking about what makes a community great…
I’ve made a decision.
A pretty big decision, actually.
My name is John Eagleton.
And I’m running for mayor of Greensboro, North Carolina.
An idea whose time has come.
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