On July 21, 1873, 141 years ago this week, Toronto city council accepted John Howard’s donation of land to create High Park. I have a lot of occasion to be thankful for that these days, as my three young kids and I visit this absolute civic treasure often: to wander through the woods or along the banks of Grenadier Pond, to have a picnic lunch under the cherry blossoms, to visit the yaks in the zoo, or to seek out geo-cached treasures left hidden by others playing an ongoing scavenger hunt game online.

Most often this summer, we’ve been going there to play T-ball; I help coach my son’s team on the impeccably groomed diamond with the scoreboard in right field once or twice a week.

At the start of each season, there’s a parade of all the players and a trophy presentation ceremony recognizing last year’s exceptional performances, complete with a bagpiper and a ceremonial opening pitch. But the part of the ceremony that stuck out for me my first year coaching was the recognition of volunteers who had served 10 or 15 or 20 or more years making nationally competitive little league baseball happen in the park. It was humbling to see how much dedication others give to the community there, so that my family and others could participate.

Once I noted that and started looking around the park, I saw the same thing all over the place: in the dog park where people told me of the two unofficial marshals who help negotiate and enforce rules with park staff and spread news to other dog owners, in the Nature Conservancy organization that protects the trees, in the Friends of the High Park Zoo, whose money and labour kept the animals in the park when funding was cut.

There’s a tennis club and a chess club and a theatre group, and the list goes on. The wooded park is a wonder in itself, but the bustling activity that makes it such an amazing place to visit is fuelled by a community of people who care about the place, program it, and protect it.

High Park is an exceptional place — a regional attraction as parks go — but I realize the same is true of so many smaller, even tiny, recreational spaces around Toronto. The communities at Dufferin Grove Park and Campbell Park have become famous for transforming once-forlorn spaces with their pizza ovens and rinkhouse management and community dinners.

Even at the little railroad-side Vine Avenue Park close to my house, which was rundown and neglected six years ago, a group of local parents has raised money to paint the wading pool, lobbied the councillor for new playground equipment, and throws regular events in the park that have made it a neighbourhood hot spot.

Wherever you find a truly great park, it seems, you find a legion of local citizens who feel ownership of it and make it something special — there are more than 100 official residents groups dedicated to improving local parks. The city government can provide the space and maintain it, but it takes a community to bring it alive.

We’re recognizing that more and more here in Toronto. It is the thinking behind a policy proposed by Olivia Chow this week that would make it easier for “Friends of” groups to help run local parks and for community groups to hold events in them.

Earlier this year David Soknacki proposed something similar, and also proposed a parks equivalent to the Library Board to manage a more flexible, community-based approach.

These proposals are good news — in line with other excellent suggestions from a group called the Park People, local residents (of course) who help people form Friends of Park groups and have released a “Parks Platform” for this municipal election. It is encouraging news that mayoral candidates are taking the suggestions seriously.

But I hope they see a larger lesson in this, too. For what’s true of parks is true of streets, neighbourhoods, democratic government, and almost every element of city life: it is the active participation of citizens — and the sense of ownership those citizens show — that make them work.

Since amalgamation, we’ve had fewer opportunities to participate closely in the decisions of our city. In the past few years in particular we’ve seen citizen advisory committees shut down and decisions on local issues--like the Jarvis bike lanes — made without community consultation. In many neighbourhoods, especially outside of the old city of Toronto, we hear a lot about people feeling alienated from city government, and from the city itself.

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It should be a major goal of any candidate for mayor or council to give people more opportunities to participate in their neighbourhoods, and in how they are governed. Our elected officials shouldn’t just try to build a better city for us to live in, but to help us build that better city ourselves.

That sounds abstract, but I only need to look around High Park to see how concrete it can be in practice: a local resident gave us the park, and local residents still make it the place it is today. When people see something they want their community to have, and you give them the resources and permission to create it, they’ll make it happen. And we all benefit when they do.

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