In dialogue, as in life, often it's the little things that count.Finding the right venue for a particular dialogue was part logic, part magic, part coincidence. What did matter was: --making sure the location was as convenient as possible to both dialogue partners --checking assumptions (are dialogue participants able-bodied, able to handle stairs? If not, will someone be there to assist? Is someone allergic to cigarette smoke? Etc.) --checking more assumptions (does the proposed location feel culturally alien or offensive to one participant? Is it too yuppie for the anti-gentrification activist, who sees it as "part of the problem"?) --when in doubt, giving preference to the more intensely scheduled partner and/or to the one having to travel the farthest, taking into consideration bus, trolley, bicycle, or other transportation. --safety really can be an issue; does the 17-year old young woman whose mom dropped her off have a safe way back to her neighborhood? --balancing familiarity as a "plus" (the local hangout) with familiarity as a "minus" (too many interruptions, or the possibility of being overheard by acquaintances) --balancing hominess as a "plus" (comfort, home food, happy animal presences) or a "minus" (a person's home reflects their class, race, politics, and is in no way a neutral space). --for group dialogues, having as neutral and accessible a space as possible --

FOOD! We found that offering dinner was absolutely essential to the success of the group dialogues, and hot, healthy, abundant food at that.

MORE FOOD! We held a series of "activist brunches" as well as the more structured dialogues; free food and coffee helped these become popular.

EVEN MORE FOOD! Building on these successes, we also offered dinner at the meetings for our fledgling "reference group," the committee volunteering to take on continued monitoring after the project ended. With the task somewhat nebulous and the group in formation, food helped to attract, support, and bond this group together.

COFFEE: Looking back, although we don't have consensus on this, at least two of the facilitators thought it would have been worth it to include the cost of coffee for the one-on-one dialogues in the budget. It would not have been a huge amount of money, and would have been an appropriate gesture of appreciation toward some of the dialogue participants who are underpaid, unemployed, have economic challenges and health challenges, and gave generously of their time to the project. That said, it seems that in general we were successful in creating a comfortable atmosphere for the one-on-one dialogues, the "activist brunches," the group dialogues, and the reference group meetings. We met in low-cost cafes or restaurants where we knew we would not be harassed for taking up space for two to three hours while drinking only coffee; we made sure food was available when we knew people would be hungry; we met in places where we knew people would feel comfortable regardless of how they looked or dressed; or we met in the homes of facilitators or participants after carefully checking ahead of time to see if each participant was happy and comfortable with the arrangement.

First Stupidest Mistake in relation to venue: on one occasion, an activist arrived on time to an event only to be completely unable to make it up the cement steps because there was no handrail. Everyone knew this person has a physical disability which makes it tough for her to walk and impossible to climb stairs without support, yet no one had taken responsibility to make sure to be there for her instead of leaving her standing on the sidewalk, waiting. Dumb! Insensitive! Do as we say, not as we do. Check assumptions.

Second Stupidest Mistake in relation to scheduling: oops. On one occasion, an older activist who had already been re-scheduled twice, left an exhausting and busy work day, made childcare arrangements, showed up on time, waited a full hour and a half, and no one showed up. Not the facilitator. Not the participant. He was burnt. He lived far away. He was mad. He did, fortunately, have a sense of humor and forgiveness - but we learned: always show up, as the facilitator, even if you think you've left the message canceling the thing - the message probably has not been received, and you also have to risk making a fool of yourself, going up to strangers and asking, "Hi, are you Paul?" rather than abandoning the thing. These things will happen - so, the other thing to do is, really, sincerely, apologize. Three hours of someone's time can matter an awful lot to them, and we can wind up busting up the very bridges we're attempting to build.

Third Stupidest Mistake in relation to scheduling: in theory, we were supposed to make confirmation calls, but it turns out that in reality, only the older, seasoned activists actually expected and depended on them. Oops. Once, a facilitator remembered to make childcare arrangements but forgot to make the confirmation call, so the older activist, a daddy, assumed that meant the dialogue was off. Not only did one facilitator wind up scrambling to find another dialogue partner last-minute, but the other facilitator, who expected to take care of a very cute child to enable this dialogue to happen, had to spend two hours talking with an adult instead of playing with a five year old. Oh, well. After that we learned: confirmation calls. Two days ahead of time. It works.