Today’s guest columnist is Tyler Jones.

After our first night in Crestwood, I knew we were not alone in this old house.

The neighbor’s blueberry pie had been raptured by mice. Or was it the Norway rat?

Then the water came. It came from the ceiling, from the fireplace, from underneath the back door.

As a first-time homeowner, I quickly realized: While it was not my fault this house was in disrepair, I was now very much responsible for it.

I feel the same tension about living in Alabama, that assigning past guilt is less productive than accepting current responsibility.

In Birmingham, we have inherited a house with a cracked foundation.

Our fragmented local governments have roots in systemic racism. Policies made by officials I was not alive to vote for.

And yet, I believe I have a moral responsibility to leave this place better than I found it.

Criticism of a place, be it Birmingham or America, is often met by the quip, “Love it or leave it,” to which I quote Jimmie Fails in his defense of San Francisco, “You don’t get to hate it unless you love it.”

Several years ago, I visited a cattleman in Georgia named Will Harris who was receiving national attention for holistic land management.

His argument is simple: Because of what industrial agriculture has done to the soil over the past century, sustainability is no longer enough. We must regenerate it.

I’m inspired by efforts to apply regenerative principles to other areas of society – business, healthcare, public housing. Regenerative arts, for example, often engage with communities to promote interconnectedness and reconciliation.

The ancient indigenous concept of the “Seventh Generation Principle” meant that communal decisions were based on how they might impact seven generations in the future.

The transformation of Railroad Park from industrial wasteland into the city’s living room stands out as a contemporary example of this radical approach.

How might similar thinking be applied to questions surrounding the future of Legion Field? Or the Powell Steam Plant?

In Birmingham, we’ve inherited a lot of complex problems, but we’ve also been given a blueprint for how collective action can change the world.

The city’s history gives us no excuse to believe that our actions, however small, can’t have generational ripple effects.

As a filmmaker, I’ve had the privilege to witness countless examples of regenerative vision: Joe Minter’s monument to the Black experience in Titusville; Temple Beth El’s initiative exploring activism from a Jewish perspective; Small Magic’s commitment to ensuring every child in Birmingham can thrive.

Each of these defy the status quo in favor of building bridges to an imagined future, or what some might call the Beloved Community.

My daughters, ages 1 and 4, will inherit a different city than the one I have.

But whether or not they stay here will likely depend on our current willingness, and courage, to reimagine it.

Because sustainability is not enough for a place that’s shrinking.

Since buying a century-old house in Birmingham, we’ve removed knob-and-tube wiring and evicted the squirrels from the attic. Progress is slow – and expensive.

After a long week recently, we settled on the couch to catch up on a Netflix series. The sound of thunder was followed by a noise we hadn’t heard since moving in: drip, drip, drip…

A new leak in need of repair.

Like all worthy endeavors, the work is never finished.

Tyler Jones is the director of 1504, a narrative studio that integrates strategic communications with the visual arts. Contact him at tyler@1504.co.

David Sher is the founder and publisher of ComebackTown.  He’s past Chairman of the Birmingham Regional Chamber of Commerce (BBA), Operation New Birmingham (REV Birmingham), and the City Action Partnership (CAP).

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Invite David to speak for free to your group about how we can have a more prosperous metro Birmingham. dsher@comebacktown..com.