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Let the debacle over George Floyd Square be a lesson: There is a cost to delay.
It’s not just the nearly $400,000 that Minneapolis spent driving in a circle to arrive at the same street design for Chicago Avenue that city staff proposed a year ago.
There is also the psychological toll of our leaders taking more than five years to declare that they are going to keep this street open. It showed that one long-term consequence of Floyd’s murder was paralysis.
Let’s hope it’s not a permanent condition.
That tragic day in May will forever stain this city. So it is not surprising the government that killed Floyd is sheepishly approaching decisions about the physical legacy of that event.
But the drawn-out process has contributed to the impression that 38th and Chicago is a quagmire, a place so fraught with acrimony that it’s intimidating to visit or even discuss publicly. A place that’s frozen in a traumatic time and allowed to wither while City Hall dithers.
Someone told me last spring that it seems like Minneapolis is in therapy. I think there is truth to that. And in many ways, the geographic center of our angst is George Floyd Square — where a city’s grief, rage and shame collide.