As a senior citizen approaching 70, I have spent a lifetime watching communities change.
I grew up in the Bronx during the 1960s and 1970s. Back then, nobody talked much about diversity. We simply lived it.
My neighborhood was a mixture of people from different backgrounds. When I attended Cardinal Hayes High School, the student body felt like a snapshot of New York City. There were Irish and Italian students, Puerto Rican students, and African American students. We rode the same subways, sat in the same classrooms, played on the same athletic fields, and hung out together after school.
Nobody considered it unusual. It was simply everyday life.
Years later, I moved to Montclair and spent decades raising my family there. One of the things I loved most about Montclair was its diversity. People from different racial, ethnic, religious, and economic backgrounds shared neighborhoods, schools, parks, and community organizations.
Montclair remains one of New Jersey’s most diverse communities. Yet over the past 15 years, I believe something has changed.
The issue is not racial diversity.
The issue is economic diversity.
Home prices have risen dramatically. Property taxes continue to climb. Many middle-income families who once could comfortably buy a home in Montclair are finding it increasingly difficult to do so. Some longtime residents have moved away. Others who would have loved to move into Montclair never get the chance.
As a result, the town feels different than it once did.
One of the things that always made Montclair special was its ability to bring together people from vastly different economic backgrounds.
In many ways, it reminded me of New York City.
In New York, a multimillionaire can ride the same subway train as a newly arrived immigrant. For a few stops, they share the same space and the same experience.
Montclair often felt that way.
The town has long been home to successful entertainers, journalists, business leaders, professional athletes, and television personalities. At the same time, it has been home to teachers, municipal workers, healthcare aides, artists, and families struggling to make ends meet.
What made Montclair unique was that their children often attended the same schools, played on the same athletic fields, and participated in the same community activities.
Both sides gained something.
A child from a modest-income family could see firsthand what success looked like and begin to imagine bigger possibilities for their own future.
At the same time, successful parents often chose Montclair because they wanted their children to experience something close to the upbringing they had before fame, wealth, or professional success entered their lives. They wanted their children to grow up around people from different backgrounds and understand that not everyone experiences the world the same way.
That exchange created understanding, empathy, and respect.
Today, roughly 26 percent of Montclair residents are age 55 and older. Many of us moved there because it offered something increasingly rare: a community where people from different backgrounds and income levels could live side by side.
As seniors, we understand something younger generations often have not yet experienced.
Diversity is not a political slogan.
It is a quality-of-life issue.
Living around people who are different from us keeps us curious. It keeps us engaged. It broadens our perspective. It reminds us that the world is larger than our own experiences.
A few years ago, after selling my home in Montclair, I moved to Clifton.
Today I live in an apartment community with roughly 250 residents. About half are long-term residents. The other half are people staying for 30 days or longer through corporate relocations, temporary work assignments, medical treatment, family visits, and seasonal housing arrangements.
The result is one of the most diverse communities I have ever experienced.
On any given day I might meet a Jewish family visiting from Israel. Later that afternoon I might see a Muslim family from the Middle East temporarily living here while receiving treatment at a New Jersey hospital. One resident may be wearing a yarmulke. Another may be wearing a hijab. They share elevators, hold doors open for one another, and exchange greetings in the lobby.
During football season, several New York Giants players use the building as temporary housing. They live alongside retirees, teachers, healthcare workers, young professionals, immigrants, and families from around the world.
Nobody seems particularly concerned about who is different.
People are busy living their lives.
Another thing I appreciate is the number of seasonal residents.
The building has become an ideal place for snowbirds. Some residents spend winters in Florida and return north for the spring and summer. Others split their time between New Jersey and where their children or grandchildren live. Some travel extensively and appreciate the freedom of apartment living.
Their departures and arrivals create a constantly changing community.
One month I may be talking with a retired teacher returning from Naples, Florida. The next month I may meet a visiting family from Israel, a healthcare professional on temporary assignment, or an NFL player preparing for the upcoming season.
For seniors, there is something healthy about that constant flow of people and experiences.
It keeps life interesting.
It keeps conversations fresh.
It keeps us connected to the world.
Many older adults worry about becoming isolated as they age. Living in a community filled with people from different cultures, professions, religions, and age groups helps prevent that.
After nearly seventy years of watching communities evolve, I have come to believe that the true measure of diversity is not found in census reports, mission statements, or marketing brochures.
It is found in whether people from different backgrounds, incomes, ages, and life experiences can still afford to live side by side.
When I look around my apartment building today, I see something that has become harder to find in many communities: people from different backgrounds sharing the same hallways, elevators, parking lots, and common spaces every day.
In many ways, it reminds me of the Bronx where I grew up.
And, perhaps surprisingly, it reminds me of the Montclair I remember most.