Most neighborhoods have an invisible boundary where public space ends and private property begins. Rachel Harms Mahlandt started questioning that boundary after discovering tiny installations scattered around Portland: a rubber duck exchange, a toy car swap, miniature galleries, and other invitations to stop and interact. She eventually built her own, then began mapping hundreds of similar projects through Sidewalk Joy. What started with a dinosaur diorama in her front yard has become a way for strangers to linger, trade something small, meet a neighbor, and treat the edge of private property as a place for connection.
Hi, everybody! Welcome to another episode of the Bottom Up Revolution podcast. I'm your host, Tiffany Owens. One of the less tangible aspects of building a stronger town or a stronger neighborhood is helping people cross those invisible barriers that often exist right at the edge of our private property.
Building a stronger town requires building connections. It means having conversations with your neighbors, including people you've maybe never spoken to before. Sometimes I think this can be challenging because there is an unspoken rule in neighborhoods that you're not to be on your neighbor's property or in their yard, and you're not really to go up to their house. Even if you see them, I think there's always this hesitation about going up to speak to them.
Building that social capital and those loose ties is an important part of rebuilding social fabric and building a strong community. The challenge is figuring out what myths keep us from connecting with each other as neighbors. Where are those invisible barriers, and what are some creative ways we can help people cross them and start building connections with each other?
Today's guest is doing just that. Today I'm joined by Rachel Harms Mahlandt, the founder of the Worldwide Sidewalk Joy Map and Project. She's an artist and mom of two based in Portland, Oregon. Her installations have sparked international intrigue for how they bring curiosity, connection, and joy to ordinary neighborhoods. Rachel, welcome to the Bottom Up Revolution podcast.
Thanks so much for having me.
So you're not from Portland originally. I would love it if you could just orient us a little bit and tell us some of your journey. How did you end up in Portland, and what makes it feel like home for you?
I grew up moving a lot as a kid. On average, we moved every three years, and then I moved a lot as a young adult as well. The last place my husband and I lived before Portland was Washington, D.C., which is a really amazing place to be.
We also felt like it was really hard to make community there because a lot of people are commuting a lot, and we were one of them. Our commute each day was almost four and a half hours long, and by the time we got home, we were exhausted. It was dark.
We were interested in coming somewhere where life felt a little slower and we could have more of that connection. We ended up picking Portland partly because we really enjoy gray days and rainy vibes, and we had visited Portland briefly a few years prior and couldn't stop thinking about it. So we ended up coming out here in 2017.
I love that you understood the weather before you came. I think that's important. I've been to Portland one time. It's been a long time, and it wasn't long enough to truly get a feel for the city. How do you like to describe Portland to people who aren't from there and haven't been?
For one, we do get rain, but not as much as I originally thought. I don't know how much of it has changed over time, per se, but it's a nice mix. We get a beautiful spring, a really gorgeous and hot summer, a spectacular fall, and then a decent stretch of gray or rainy days. It's not quite as heavy as I thought it would be.
The thing I like to tell people most about Portland is that it feels like a really big town. It doesn't really feel like a city to me. Anywhere I go, I run into someone: one of my kids' friends' parents, a neighbor, or an old coworker. I've lived so many places, and that just hasn't happened to me as much as it does here.
It almost feels like kindergarten for adults in the sense that everyone's ready to make friends. On our first day here, we went to a local coffee shop, and the barista asked, “What are you up to?” We said, “We just moved here.” We asked what he was up to, and he said he was going to play basketball. My husband said, “Oh, that's awesome! I love playing basketball.” He said, “Why don't you come out and play basketball? Join us today.”
We immediately had a friend group. We had come from D.C., which wasn't quite the same in terms of that connection, at least in our experience. It was really neat to see people willing to expand friend groups so easily and quickly, and there was a lot of friendliness in that sense.
It's funny. I moved to Waco, Texas, from Brooklyn six years ago, and I think it's the same feeling: definitely not a big city, but not a small town. I've developed a habit of quickly scanning the room anywhere I go to see if there's anyone I know there, and not even necessarily a friend.
There are several moms I see all the time because we're always at Aldi, the library, or the Y. Sometimes I feel a little bit like I'm living in The Sims. We have all the known characters, and they're all intermingling at various places. It's neat to feel so connected, and it is a really big area, so I'm meeting new people all the time who live here.
It doesn't feel too small or too big. That's a neat vibe for sure. So, how long have you been in Portland now?
We're coming up on 10 years next year. We moved here at the very end of March 2017.
Okay, so let's talk about Sidewalk Joy. I would love to know how these two big life events came together. You started Sidewalk Joy, if I recall correctly from our conversation, in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic. Can you tell us the story of how you got inspired and how it started, and then we can talk about where it's gone from there?
We had moved here in 2017, and I think we were here maybe four or five days before we adopted our dog. We couldn't have a pet very easily in D.C. with all the commuting, so I was really set on getting a dog. We adopted our dog from the Humane Society, and she ended up being allergic to Pacific Northwest trees. She lost all her fur and was struggling, and we had to figure out that balance. We couldn't even put a leash on her because it rubbed her raw.
I had this picture that we'd move to Portland, get a dog, explore, and hike. It took a bit to get her allergies sorted. By the time we had them under control, I was expecting our first baby and had no energy. Then came life, getting into daycares, and being pregnant with our second baby.
When the pandemic hit, we had our rhythm, but I suddenly felt like I had two young kids and no more support system. We don't have any family in town, and I felt like I suddenly didn't know Portland anymore. We hadn't done the exploring we had intended to do when we first got here, and I was feeling pretty low.
It fully hit me in January 2021. The pandemic was dragging on, the holidays had ended, and we had moved to a new house in Portland. I suddenly thought, “I'm spending every moment inside, and I have been for a long time. I need fresh air and I need community.” I really felt I needed to connect with our area, so I decided to make an adventure club for my kids and me, with little badges, code names, pictures, and backpacks with binoculars. I said, “We are getting out of the house. We're going to explore. We're going to learn Portland neighborhoods.”
That's what we did. We set out for three to four hours every day. I would pick a random thing to head to, and we'd wander around that area. I combed through lists of what to do as a local in Portland or what to do if you only have two days to visit, crossed off everything that was expensive or indoors, and went with the rest.
My friends and family heard what I was doing and started giving me suggestions. A friend said, “There's a rubber duck exchange outside my neighbor's house for some reason. It's cool. You should come check that out.” Someone else told me about a toy car swap, and someone had a mini golf course in their front yard. It became really easy to find cool places to visit around Portland.
Sometimes we'd go to a more official park, but as we wandered the neighborhood, we'd see more of these types of installations. I think Portland might have somewhere in the realm of 1,500 to 2,000 little free libraries. They're everywhere, they're fantastic, and we love them. But these were alternative installations: a rubber duck exchange, a toy car exchange, or a tree where you tie your wishes.
It was pretty cool to stumble upon these, and I started wondering: What are these? Who's making them? Where did the idea come from? Are they worried about strangers interacting with them and hanging out in their yard? That was the start of it. I was inspired by seeing these other installations around town and wanted to be part of this random club, so I made our first installation.
Tell me about the first one. What inspired you? What direction did you pick?
I looked around at what we had. We had just finished building a fence, and we had a lot of leftover fence boards. My kids were really little at the time and very much into dinosaurs, so we had lots of extra dinos. I thought it would be fun for them to make a little scene with dinosaurs.
I took some old fence boards and put together a silly scene of dinosaurs riding bikes, having ice cream, or playing instruments. I called it a Dinorama because I love a good pun. That was the first one, and it's still there now. We made some iterations to make it a little more weatherproof, but the Dinorama is still in the corner of our yard.
Shortly after making that, I added a Dino Exchange so people could not just come see the updated diorama but also see what was there for exchanging. My kids and I would hang around our windows, hear someone come around the corner and say, “Oh, what's this? Oh my gosh, Dinorama!” and we'd come tumbling out with some excuse for why we had to be in the yard.
Then we'd get to chatting with them and tell them about other spots around town, including a little mini gallery that features local artists' work in miniature. We kept telling people about these spots, and they would ask where they were. I'd get out my map and try to tell them the cross streets.
I made an Instagram for the diorama and started using it to share changes to our installation and feature other places around town. It was really fun because it gave me an excuse to knock on somebody's door and say, “Hey, I saw you had this really cool installation in your yard. Can I interview you about it? I want to know everything.”
I started doing these features on spots, which led to people asking for a map of all the ones around town. I teamed up with a local artist who has a little free art gallery in town, and we made the first iteration of the Portland PDX Sidewalk Joy Map. That was the original map and how it started.
How did you settle on the name Sidewalk Joy?
I need to dig up the back-and-forth texts. There was a lot of kicking ideas around. Should it be called Neighborhood Whimsy? Should it be called something with sidewalk? We have a list of the names that didn't make it, and it cracks me up looking at it now.
It was a team effort to figure out which words would convey it, be broad enough to encompass the movement, and still give the right sense of it.
I love that you did interviews of people who had other installations. Do you have a favorite memory of any stories that you heard while talking to people about their installations?
Sidewalk Ducks is the rubber duck exchange. I love that story. I got to talk to the owner, and now we're good friends. They told me they had a birthday party for their very young kids and had extra rubber ducks as party favors, so they set them out thinking maybe people would come and take some of the extras.
The next day they had the same number of ducks, but a few of them had been exchanged. They realized somebody thought it was an exchange. They didn't do anything; they just laughed about it. The same thing happened the next day and the next. People just started swapping ducks, and it became this unspoken swap.
It stayed very informal for a couple of years. Then one of the parents pursued graduate education, so they left town, moved to New York, and did a long-term rental of their house. When they came home, the duck exchange was still going. They had no social media and no sign. The people in the neighborhood kept it going because they thought it was cool.
It's one of the longest-running ones, and I think it's one of the most Portland things I've ever heard.
Do you think it was a Jeep people thing? Because I know Jeep. I don't understand the Jeep Duck thing. Yeah, email me and explain it. But I'm just curious if you've done any investigation.
I should have. I don't know when that started. This one didn't seem related because it's a really small cul-de-sac neighborhood. So as far as I know, there have absolutely been Jeep people who have come by. This has become a cool spot for Jeep people to go. Obviously, with the rubber duck situation. But originally, I think it was more, "Oh, this is here on my neighbor's stoop, and this is so funny. Let's keep it going." It seemed almost like a neighborhood inside joke at first. But I would be curious when the Jeep one started. I know that I've seen people roll up with them.
How much do you think that these installations rely on neighborhoods being walkable?
I think walkability helps an immense amount. It helps so much when you can walk around. I know some people who have wanted to have a Sidewalk Joy spot, but their neighborhood doesn't really have sidewalks and cars are whizzing by, and that makes it much more challenging.
I also think these spots can sometimes help make a neighborhood more walkable. I have a friend, John the Happy Urbanist, and he has these really cool ideas, as you all do, about taking action to make neighborhoods safer, including putting barriers in the middle of the road to slow down traffic. I think these installations can sometimes be part of that initiative.
Sometimes people say to me, “I wanted to put one out, but I'm worried it's going to attract the wrong crowd.” I feel so much safer in my neighborhood having these installations outside because they bring more foot traffic to my house, and to me that feels like a great thing. There's less chance of something nefarious happening when there are always people stopping by.
I'm not drawing crowds where you can't park or where it becomes unsafe. There's just a steady stream of lovely people coming by, and that is what makes my neighborhood feel safer. Feeling more connected with the community makes me feel safer too. When people say they're worried about attracting the wrong crowd, I really feel like it's been the opposite for me so far.
Tell me about the other installations that you have set up in your yard.
I need to do a full count because it's always rotating. I have a spot on my fence where I put out something for a giveaway, so that one is always changing. Right now I have the Dinorama and the Dino Exchange. Then I have a little zine library for zines or itty-bitty books.
Below it is a tiny speakeasy door from Prohibition times. If you open it, there's an itty-bitty little free library with itty-bitty books that I hand-make, and they have real words and pictures in them.
Then I have a bee stop that is a memorial to a flightless bee that got stuck in a bucket outside our house. We ended up adopting her after bringing her to some pollinator experts who explained that she had been kicked out of her colony and was going to pass away in the night. We brought her into our family and took care of her for the rest of her life.
We have a little bee station with information about what to do if you find a tired bee, what native bees live around Portland, and how you can support pollinators. Then I have a mug exchange outside my house for swapping mugs and cups. It's shaped like a giant mug with steam coming out the top.
Yeah, I've seen that one on Instagram. It's fun.
That one's really fun. Then I have Small Scenes, which is a changing monthly diorama. My goal is ultimately to change it every two weeks. I build little dioramas that I can swap out, so I change that monthly with a small scene just for fun.
Then I have a tiny thing swap. If you lift up the fence-post caps along my fence, there is a painting under them. One of them is actually a little Lego door you can open, and there are tiny hedgehogs I make that you can adopt, so that's the hedgehog adoption station.
I also just added a geocache. I think I'm saying that right. I always say geocache or geocache and say it wrong, but I just added one of those too.
Do you have a favorite story of meeting someone new because of the installations you have up in your yard?
Oh my gosh, so many. I feel like it is almost a friend magnet because the people who stop and delight in it are my kind of people. It really feels like I'm bringing new friends to my house every day, which is so delightful.
One of the stories I love telling is about a kid who lives nearby and comes by often. I was gardening, squatting down where they didn't see me, and I could hear the kids' conversation. He was bringing his cousin by and said, “Yeah, we'll go down there, but we'll stop by the Dinorama first.” The cousin said, “What's the dino—what is that?” He said, “You don't have a diorama near you, where you swap dinos? How do you not have this in your neighborhood?”
That was this moment of, “Oh my gosh.” Kids who grow up around spaces like this are going to have a different way of viewing the world. Even my kids, when we travel, sometimes say, “Where are the Sidewalk Joy spots?” or “Wouldn't this be a good place for a sticker swap?” or “Why isn't there a mural in this little hole in the wall?”
They have this different way of viewing the world where it's more for everyone and more interactive. They notice when neighborhoods don't have as many of these little spaces to linger.
I also met somebody who had traveled to see the spot. I happened to put a little book in the zine library, and she told me her house had burned down when she was a kid. That was one of the books that was lost, and she hadn't ever seen it again. It was the exact same style of book.
It was cool that we got to be there at the same time, after she had traveled a decent distance to see the space. We got to share this moment talking about her childhood and rediscovering this thing she thought she wouldn't really see again. I think those kinds of moments are important and powerful.
Of course, I've also met neighbors I didn't know I had. They're two streets over and we just hadn't met before. Then they introduce themselves, and that kind of thing happens all the time.
I think what's most interesting to me about this concept is how it redefines the relationship between public and private space. We talked about this off air: there are these invisible rules not to touch anyone's yard, stairs, porch, or door. It's private property, and of course we understand that.
But I think what's interesting is how you can reframe that space. Instead of it being the beginning of privacy, you can think of it as the beginning of connection. You can take something you have—your front yard, your garden, your driveway—and use it as more of an invitational space rather than perpetuating the “don't step on my yard” narrative that I think a lot of us grew up with.
Totally. It's one of those societal things you don't think too hard about until it comes right in front of your face. As I'm raising my kids, I've spent all this time saying, “Nope, don't go up there. That's their steps. Don't step on that. That's their lawn. That toy must be from someone else. Don't touch that.” I felt like I was doing what I was supposed to do.
Then all of a sudden these spaces came into our lives, and they are absolutely invitations to linger. It's the person saying, “I want you here. Play with the toy cars at the toy car library or the toys at the toy swap. Even when I'm not home, sit on my steps. Play here.” It's a place to stay and meet people. They're baby third places in a way.
I felt the weight on my shoulders drop because I get to let my kids explore and touch things. Of course, I'm not letting them tear out someone's flowers or go tromping through their lawns. There's obviously a natural respect that comes with it, but that was such a paradigm shift for me. It felt a little bit like a return to the porch culture that I think we've gotten away from.
When I first put out the installation, my kids would look out the window and say, “Oh, I just saw someone take a dino, and they didn't give one.” I got to say, “That's totally fine. It'll come back to us. Don't worry.” Then the next week somebody comes by with a whole bag full that they wanted to share because their kid moved away to college and they're done with their dinos. It all circles around.
I've watched my kids go from being a little concerned that somebody took one without exchanging to being the first ones to come out and say, “You don't need to have a mug if you see one you like. Just grab one. It'll come back to us. Don't worry about it.”
What a cool shift for them to get to see: you can share and give, and it doesn't take away from you. That applies both physically in these spaces where you're invited to linger and to the objects that might speak to someone's heart when they pass by. I love that it's shaped who my kids are becoming.
I think it's also beautiful because it is showing them more about what it means to be a human being. How fascinating is it that you happen to create a way to capture intrigue and curiosity about toy dinosaurs? There are so many things that make us interesting as human beings that are invisible. But I feel like when you have these little exchanges, you find a way to make these quirky little interests visible, and then people use that as a way to connect with each other. I think that's what cracks me up so much. It's the idea that somebody would put it on their to-do list to go drive a bag of dinos to the Dino Exchange, and it's important to them to do that. So you eventually started making these installations and giving them away to other people. Can you share about that part of the story?
It started by accident. My husband and I laugh about this all the time now. When I had made the Dinorama and added the Dino Exchange, I asked if he minded. He said, “Do you mind maybe keeping it to that corner of the yard, so it's not taking over the whole yard with installations?” I said, “Yeah, no problem.”
Now when you visit our yard, we have a corner lot and the installations go around the corner. They're everywhere in the yard. I had an idea to make a mug exchange, but I was trying not to fill the yard with another installation, so I made it as a giveaway. I told my husband, “Okay, don't worry. I'm making this to give to someone else.”
I picked the giveaway winner. The day before I was supposed to take it down, I looked at it and felt so sad. I had really loved seeing the mugs that came through. Dinos are super fun, but that was made for my kids. I realized the mug exchange was truly made for me. I love different mugs and seeing potters bring by their handmade ones.
So I quickly went to the garage and made another one for myself. When my husband got home, he said, “Oh, I thought you gave it away today.” I said, “This is our new one.” That opened the floodgates. When I shared that I had made myself another one, people said, “Can you make more? Can you make more than two?”
I started making more, and thus far I've made 60 mug exchanges and given them away. They've gone all over: Chicago, Canada, California, Colorado. People have come from all over to get them. I've mailed some, and sometimes someone is on a road trip and comes to pick one up, which has been really cool and fun.
I've done a bunch of the mug exchanges, and then I thought, “If I can do that, why don't I make some pins, the kind you pin on a shirt or a bag?” I made pin exchanges and gave those away. I need to do a final count, but I think I'm approaching 85 or 90 installations that I've made and given away. I'm going to do more this winter too.
It's really exciting to see them go to their new homes and think about the fact that these are changing neighborhoods a little at a time, and people are making them their own.
So you have also built a map to track all of these. Tell us about the map. Is that online? How do you have it set up?
The original Portland map was made online using Google My Maps, a free way to make a map, and I also made a PDF version in alphabetical order.
Then I kept hearing a couple different points of feedback. One was people saying, “I live in Nebraska. Is there anything like this near me?” I would say, “I don't know. I manage the Portland map.” Or somebody would say, “I saw that you have a free little art gallery there. I got really inspired and made my own in my hometown in Alabama.”
People were sharing installations they had made after being inspired by things they'd seen in Portland. Others were asking if there was something like this near them or telling me about a spot that would go on the map if it were worldwide. I finally took the plunge and made the worldwide version.
It's on my website, worldwidesidewalkjoy.com. People self-submit their own spots to the map, and I check all of them. I'm also making an app for Sidewalk Joy. The map on my website is free and always will be, and the app is going to be free as well.
We're hiring developers connected to Sidewalk Joy. One of the developers' moms manages a Sidewalk Joy spot here in Portland, which is pretty cute. The app will make the map easier to use on a phone, because it's a little clunky on a phone right now and a lot of people are using it while they're out and about trying to find these spots.
That's really exciting. Where have you seen these go up internationally? Has there been one location that was especially surprising to you?
Quite a few have been popping up in Australia recently, which has been cool. I got to talk to a school there, and I think they're making seven to put around. It's been really cool to see them pop up anywhere.
There's now a whole fleet of them in the U.K., specifically trinket swaps. It's been crazy to see them popping up in New Zealand and Australia, and I think there's a mug exchange in Sweden now.
One that particularly stood out to me is a three-year-old in the U.K. who made a toy car swap because he really loved getting together with friends and exchanging cars. His parents heard about Sidewalk Joy and told him that people actually have little installations like these outside their houses, and he was completely on board.
His parents helped him make a little spot out of a repurposed birdhouse, and he put some of his very favorite cars in there for strangers to share. He carefully picked out some of his favorite ones and placed them, excited to see them go to their new homes. That really tugged at my heartstrings. He has this big heart and wants to share, and hearing how carefully he arranged his favorite cars and how excited he was for people to come see and adopt them really got me.
So talk to me about someone listening to this who is resonating with it. How do they get started if they're thinking, “I want to do something like this. I want to use it as a launchpad to get to know my neighbors or give the kids in my neighborhood something to do”? What would be some practical starting points?
A couple things. I know it can feel really intimidating to have an installation in your yard. Some people's hang-up is, “I don't really have woodworking tools,” or, “I don't even know how to start.” I would definitely check out the map and poke around. You'll find a lot of repurposed structures on there.
People have taken a spice shelf, painted it with exterior-rated paint, and turned it into a tiny creature swap that's been up for six years in Portland and is now a beloved spot. The car swap we just talked about was a repurposed birdhouse. I also have tips on my website, including build plans and tips for weatherproofing your spot.
If you're interested in doing this, I personally find it fun to iterate. Start with whatever feels feasible. Go to a thrift store and find one of those old bottle boxes that used to hold milk bottles, and put some exterior paint on it. If the things inside don't need to stay perfectly dry, you're good to go. If you're trying to keep art dry, you'll need to consider something with a door.
There are all kinds of things you can repurpose, including old newspaper boxes. A lot of times newspapers give those away when they're done with them. Start with something repurposed so you're not having to figure out how to use saws and drills and put everything together.
If you make something and it's not as weatherproof as you want, it can be fun to troubleshoot and make a bigger, better one. It's exciting just to have something out there and get community support. I've heard people say they made a spot, something was falling apart, and a neighbor offered to help fix it. It can be a cool way to build it bigger and better with your community involved.
Getting something out there is what I would absolutely recommend, even if it's not perfect or fully weatherproof. Taking that first step and having something out there is really cool.
Oh, I guess I'm just curious: People who set these up, how do they get the word out? Is it just organic? Do you put it up and wait to see what happens? I'm also thinking especially about places where there's not a lot of foot traffic. What advice do you have for those kinds of neighborhoods?
One thing that has helped people is getting on the Sidewalk Joy Map. I encourage everyone to join it if they can. You'd be surprised. People message me daily saying, “I'm in Redwood City, California, and there's nothing near me.” Then two days later, I'm excited because I've just added three more spots and they're all in Redwood City. People are looking around them for spaces like this.
When you put one up and you're on the map, there is probably somebody in your town or city who checks the map every so often and will be excited to see that you're close by. I've heard people say that as soon as they got on the map, they got more foot traffic.
People also post in their neighborhood Facebook group or Nextdoor app, which helps spread the word. If you're in a walkable area, everyone passing by will naturally start telling their friends. If you're not in a walkable area, I would rely more on sharing it in a Facebook group or on Nextdoor and being on the map.
There are specific groups too. People have put up seed libraries or little free greenhouses, so you can go to gardening groups and share those. Making an Instagram, TikTok, or other social media account for your space definitely helps get the word out as well.
You hinted at this already, telling us about the app, but is there anything else coming up for Sidewalk Joy that you're excited about?
The app is a huge one. I was really intimidated by doing a Kickstarter for it, so that feels really exciting. The Kickstarter is still live right now. It'll close at the end of this month, and then we can move forward with actually building and implementing it. That's something I've been really looking forward to.
I'd also like to figure out a way to make kits for people because I know there's interest in specific types of exchanges. I can put them together, but could we do kits? That's something I'm still exploring.
I also have this dream that I haven't really shared much. I'd love to go to different places and start the movement with people. We could do an intensive workshop where we talk ahead of time about what types of spots might thrive in their town or city, plan it out, and then I can come help people actually build them and teach them how to set a post if they need to.
We could get a small town or city started with six to 10 spots. That's something I'm starting to pursue: Can we plant this in different places? I think that would be really fun.
What are some pushbacks or concerns you've heard around the idea of using front yards and putting up these types of installations? What anxieties do people have, and how do you speak to those?
I haven't really heard pushback from people saying, “I hate this idea and I don't want it in my town.” I have heard people say, “I'd really like to have this, but I'm worried about it being trashed or emptied out.”
When I talk to people about that, I try to reiterate that I cannot guarantee that nothing bad will happen if you put something out there in the world. Nobody can. But I think somebody really nailed it a couple years ago. They said that, as humans, we're really good at picturing tangible things like destruction or a space being emptied out, and we have a hard time picturing the intangible benefits of a space like this.
Before even putting it out there, you can't really realize how many neighbors you'll connect with, how many beautiful moments you'll get to witness, and how many connections you'll make.
I just saw today that somebody had a space of theirs pretty badly damaged. They posted about it and said they were bummed, but they also said, “I wouldn't not do this, though, and we are going to rebuild it.” The reason is that it has brought so much joy. It feels life-changing. They've met so many people and don't really want to stop, even if somebody is going to do something unkind occasionally.
That's one thing I say to people: there's no guarantee that nothing bad will ever happen to it, but there is almost a guarantee that you're going to make really cool connections and have a life-changing experience. I personally wouldn't trade that for the world.
Also, these spaces are emptied or vandalized a lot less than you'd think. We have almost 2,500 spots on the map currently. Think about all the people who walk by those spaces daily and either treat them with love, care, and respect or simply don't interact with them. By and large, the interactions are wonderful.
The last thing I'll say is that sometimes when something bad happens, it's cool to see your community rally around it. There's a little pep talk library in Seattle. Recently, some people came by, took every last little pep talk out of the library, tossed them into a puddle, and destroyed them.
The person who runs it was bummed and shared that it was disheartening. They wondered if anyone would help fund a P.O. box and send in pep talks from around the world to refill it. I think the P.O. box was funded in about three hours or less. The community said, “Yeah, I'll pitch in and help you do a P.O. box,” and they've now been receiving pep talks from around the world.
You can have these setbacks, but you also get to see your community rally, which can be really amazing. Without taking that plunge, you wouldn't get to experience the other side of that.
That story reminds me of a moment I had here in Waco. I'm not going to say where this magical drawer is, so if you're listening and you're in Waco, consider this your challenge to go find it.
I was sitting at a third spot here in town getting some work done, and I randomly opened a drawer in the desk. The whole drawer was jammed full of really encouraging notes that kids had written, and I started crying. It was the coolest thing.
It reminds me of the potential for capturing intrigue, whimsy, silliness, and encouragement. I think what you're doing provides such a simple way for people to see other sides of being human that you don't usually see in our cities, especially in places where human beings aren't really visible because we're all being shuttled around in cars.
It makes me hopeful. I think a fun one would be a recipe exchange.
Yes, that would be really funny
I was thinking about how to set it up, though, because you don't want the cards getting ruined. You have to think about how to do that.
There is a recipe exchange just outside Portland. I can send it to you. I think they did it so ingeniously. They have little crates and separate the recipes by breakfast foods, lunches, dinners, entrees, desserts, and so on. They have them on little index cards. It is so delightful.
I would probably put it on an index card and then put it inside a little mason jar or something. Fill it up with mason jars and see who takes one and who brings back a mason jar. Maybe they can take the jar, take the recipe out, put their own recipe in, and put it back. That'd be fun.
Okay, this was fun, Rachel. In closing, tell us a little bit about your neighborhood. Now you're a pro on Portland. You did this whole adventure club and you've been getting to meet people through these exchanges. You've shared what you love about your city. Are there a couple local businesses you like to recommend people check out if they come to visit?
I'm in a neighborhood called Montevilla, which, I've been told, is shortened from Mount Tabor Village. We're at the base of Mount Tabor, which is a little volcano we have here in Portland, which is pretty cool.
Something I really love about Montevilla is that when you walk around, you see so much personality in the spaces here. People have a lot of fun with their yards and with the ways they paint their houses. There are often a lot of people outside who you can meet and chit-chat with. There's a lot of that in Portland in general, but I feel like our neighborhood is particularly good at it. Everywhere I walk, I'm waving to people, saying hello, and meeting new friends, and I love that about Montevilla.
We have our cute little version of downtown along Stark Street. There are so many places I would recommend, but just to stick to a couple, there's a family-friendly brewery restaurant called Threshold, and they're really big on community events. You can go by and there's a fiddler club playing one night, then they do a run club on another night. They're really big on popping open the garage door, having community events, and creating ways for people to plug in. So I would shout them out.
We have a little boutique called Zucker Cream, which is a woman-owned strawberry museum-slash-shop. She goes big with handmade work by local artists. Everything is strawberry-themed: necklaces, crochet pieces, felted pieces, paintings, and more. The whole shop fills with strawberry stuff, which is really cute in June, and it's cute year-round. There are lots of craft meetups there as well.
I also love Mr. Plywood. That's where I get a lot of my supplies for making the Sidewalk Joy spots, and I really enjoy chatting with the people at Mr. Plywood, so shout-out to them as well.
Excellent. Well, Rachel, thank you so much for coming on Bottom Up Revolution with me and taking time out of your week to share your story. We'll definitely put links in the show notes where people can learn more about you and your work. I'm inspired, and I really appreciate this conversation.
Thanks so much for having me. It was so fun to chat with you, and I'm excited to have people hear more about spaces like this near them and go on adventures.
To our listeners, thank you so much for joining me for another conversation. I'll be back soon with another episode. If there's someone in your community who you think we should have on the show, please let us know using the suggested guest form.
In the meantime, keep doing what you can to build a strong town.
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