It's all about aesthetics.
When a neighborhood looks well taken care of, there is a general feeling of pride, felt safety, and peace. Edged sidewalks, mowed lawns, trash-free streets, well-maintained vacant lots and green spaces contribute to this feeling. In Brentwood, there are few front yards, the houses seem to hug right up close to the sidewalks. Depending on the street, some sidewalks have dirt and grass growing on them. Over the years, 2nd Mile has made an effort through our spring break mission teams from across the country to mow, edge, and clean very specific streets and take many before and after photos to see the finished product. One neighbor who would oversee these college teams for the week was Mr. Ron.
When I first moved to Jacksonville, there was this sense that I was the odd one out in a neighborhood full of people that did not look or think like me. Strangers were curious, but at a distance. I remember Mr. Ron's demeanor to be one of a wise old man with stories to tell. I would hold onto every word. This man clearly had a passion and a vision for a more beautiful Brentwood. He showed us the community garden, rather, the nutritional garden down the street from his house where I was introduced to growing food. His planter beds were in their precise places and were the precise sizes to Mr. Ron's satisfaction.
Squeaky wheel gets the grease.
In these stories that Mr. Ron would tell, he'd point out different houses that used to sell drugs and how he got them to either leave or get them removed. He would talk directly to these people about their ways, and when their bad habits continued, he'd get police involved. I think he knew that he could take advantage of his "crazy old man" status to make change happen. "Squeaky wheel gets the grease," he would say. "I want them to be tired of hearing my ol' a...." He had no problem getting things done and getting help, mainly because he had a vision for a better place and if he needed grease, he had no problem being squeaky.
Mr. Ron had since gifted 2nd Mile with the nutritional garden, entrusting us to maintain it and use it for educational purposes and well as for growing, harvesting, and eating. I can remember many a phone call from him mentioning something that needed to be done in the garden that wasn't quite up to his standards. "I gotchu Mr. Ron. I'll take care of it later today." I've spent much more time in the garden since covid, and it has been instilled in me to always look over the work I've done for the day, whether it be weeding, raking, or pruning, and ask myself, "Would Mr. Ron approve?" He had high standards, for good reason. Letting different responsibilities slip in life lead to decay and a fading of those otherwise good habits. If you've ever tried to keep plants alive, you know this too well. The plant's well-being is often a direct result of whether we've been taking care of it, giving it what it needs.
Gotta bring out ol' Geronimo
I met Mr. Ron when he was 73. Already a well-seasoned human, he could've probably still out-worked three of me. Built like an ox, he'd put in more work than us youngins at times. You could see it in his eyes that he wanted so bad to still be young and really showcase what he could do. Passing the reins to the next generation seemed to be painful to him, as he saw a decline in work-ethic, a decline in community, and decline in discipline. In the last few years, Mr. Ron had been more vulnerable and open with me about his life, his past mistakes, things he would struggle with in a new technological world. I became his landscape guy every month or so. I'd trim the hedges around his beautifully maintained property. He said he could trust me to work hard and not quit on him, and I have to say, getting a compliment from Mr. Ron is worth 10 compliments elsewhere. When I would work on his yard, he'd come out and tell me exactly where to touch up, where to skip, where to get, it became it's own kind of language and I had become fluent in taking care of his yard. In the past, if I struggled to pull or lift something, he'd step in and take care of it easily. "Here comes ol' Geronimo," he'd say when he needed to muster up that extra strength. To this day, I don't really understand the reference, but I grew to learn what this meant if he ever wanted me to bring out Geronimo. In recent years, our roles reversed. He'd come to me and ask for help with things that he couldn't do anymore. I've seen him learn to ask for help more often, and miraculously, I could help him with some of those things.
I didn't really work on his house much in the colder months, so it wasn't too strange to not hear from him. Late October, we had heard from a neighbor near the garden that Mr. Ron had been in the hospital for a month and wasn't doing well. He was released and allowed to go to his home. Apparently he had in home hospice care. One thing I regret, not seeing him before it was too late. One last conversation with him. One final chance to share how much he meant to our ministry, our community, to me. There must've been something in me that just thought he'd get better. I mean c'mon, he's been going going going since he was 73. Sure he was slowing down at 86 but he seemed invincible.
We miss you Mr. Ron. It took me a while to write this blog about you. I think I needed to process it. It still doesn't feel like you are gone. Every time I'm at the garden, I hear your lovingly critical raspy southern speaking voice, wondering why I chose to do something a certain way. I will continue to show students the process of seeing a single seed become something edible or aromatic. Your drive lives on. You were larger than life. We didn't always agree on things, but my respect for you as a person has grown over the years.
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| 1938-2025 |
I copy and pasted an article written about him from 2009. This tells more about the man and his work.
If there are drug dealers slinging dope down the street from Ronald Pauline's Brentwood home, he says it's his fault.
Prostitutes plying their trade? His fault.
Neighbors throw trash in the street? His fault.
"We set the standard for how people conduct themselves in our area," Pauline said.
It's a theme the 70-year-old Pauline learned and developed in more than 40 years of organizing communities and developing neighborhoods.
"People see something and they say, 'Well, that wouldn't happen in Mandarin.' Well, you know why?" Pauline asks. "Because people in Mandarin wouldn't let it happen. You go out acting like a fool and people will get on your case every time."
A Jacksonville native, Pauline returned home in 1999 and runs the Metro North Community Development Corp. - a massive swath of the Northside that includes neglected, older neighborhoods and homes with the Trout River in the backyard.
"He's doggedly determined," said Joni Foster, executive director of LISC Jacksonville, a nonprofit that helps fund organizations such as Metro North.
Some of Metro North's neighborhoods have established associations, others are working on building them. Pauline stresses residents taking control of their blocks and then getting other neighborhood involved, so there's momentum.
One of the biggest problems a neighborhood can have is when a group does a "needs assessment" to show everything that's not there. Pauline focuses on what's there - how many people are working and what they're doing, rather than the unemployment rate.
It sounds like a small thing, but Foster and Pauline say it's key to rallying a community.
Government and social service agencies can't be the answer to solving neighborhoods, Pauline said.
"Who let it get that? The people in the neighborhood," said Creswell Foy, president of the Springwood Oaks Neighborhood Association.
Springwood Oaks includes an area from 21st Street north to Golfair Boulevard. Foy said a slow transition from owner-occupied homes to rental property has led to less participation among residents.
Pauline is working to get residents to see themselves as one piece in an overall neighborhood and to embrace doing their part to make it a thriving place.
"Your responsibility don't just end with your house," Pauline said.
That's concept that he helped build in Minneapolis, working a neighborhood between the University of Minnesota and the state Capitol.
The area was a haven for adult businesses, which Pauline and the residents helped push out. He then helped build a coalition of residents and businesses that set the standard for what would be tolerated in the neighborhood.
Metro North is one of several Community Development Corporations (CDCs) in Jacksonville. All focus to some degree on redeveloping houses and building affordable homes. Pauline does too, but he says nice houses alone won't do anything if people aren't involved.
When he's looking for neighborhood leaders, he's looking for nosy people - people who want to know everything about what's going on in their neighborhood.
The presidents of the local associations all get together once a month and are now working on a "Code of Ethics" for the area.
Words that won't be in there: drugs and prostitutes.
Instead, the list will have things like a safe neighborhood for seniors and kids.
Pauline says you'll never get your neighborhood where you want it if you keep talking about what you don't want.
What do you want?" Pauline questions.
Pauline wants a clean neighborhood, but he won't be holding any neighborhood clean-ups.
He does "manicuring sessions," where volunteer trim up trees and get the grass off sidewalks and curbs.
"When I tell people to come out," Pauline said, "they see edgers and everything and they say, 'Man, that's work.'"
Pauline has done the same work at his Brentwood home, fixing it up and constantly tinkering with the lawn.
When he looks out his window and sees trash on the street, he'll go pick it up.
If the mess piles up, it's his fault.
