We learn about the lives of the rich and famous just standing in line at the supermarket. Learning about the lives of the poor takes a hurricane. In Katrina's aftermath, we saw more statistics about poverty, race, and inequality than we had in decades. More than statistics, though, Katrina showed us ordinary people and stories of heroism, resourcefulness, and family and community bonds.

Greater Boston has its own statistics and stories. While less dramatic than those in Louisiana, they are not so very different. I see many of the numbers in my job at the Boston Foundation as I track change in the city and region. I've seen research by Guy Stuart at Harvard's Kennedy School of Government showing that low-income families - many of color or recent immigrants - tend to be highly concentrated in parts of Boston and parts of other older cities from New Bedford to Lawrence. These places together make up our own Ninth Ward. On the other hand, Boston's suburbs, as identified by the 2000 Census, are 91 percent white, compared with the average of 71 percent for suburbs across the country, according to Stuart. If this were happening in the South, we'd be tempted to call it segregation.

I also know that children in the United States have the highest poverty rate of any age group and that they, too, can be isolated. In Boston, for example, more than half of the adults are white but only 13 percent of the white households have children; three-quarters of the city's children are of color. More than half of Boston's children live in Roxbury, Dorchester, and Mattapan, far from the downtown areas where most adults come to work or play. While educated Bostonians have gained wealth recently, almost three-quarters of Boston's public school students qualify for free or reduced-price lunches, a federal gauge for near-poverty. Only 31 percent of the city's third-graders scored as proficient readers on the spring MCAS, an indicator of future academic success, down from 35 percent a year ago. These scores suggest early economic disadvantage, limited English-speaking ability, and special needs. Yet immigrant parents are waiting two or more years for state-funded English classes so that they can read to their children, help them with their homework, and talk to their children's teachers.
We know that statistics can't just be reshuffled overnight, but by focusing on the prospects of children, we can create a bridge to a more equitable region and improve its economic prospects, too. With an aging workforce and slow growth, we'll need the talents of every one of them. Much of the answer - from housing to health - requires a shift in policies and will take time. What can we do today?

Strategies for Children, a Boston nonprofit, emphasizes the importance of the earliest years and maternal health; one of its initiatives looks for ways to provide education to all Massachusetts children ages 3 to 5. Theresa Flynn, head of Mayor Thomas Menino's ReadBoston initiative, notes that children need to hear words and be read to, starting in infancy. Others focus on school reform and after-school enrichment. Some have started new schools. Others connect with children by coaching a team or volunteering. And we can all carefully weigh our votes and choices in terms of how they affect low-income children and their families.

My own life was changed and enriched years ago during the violent and tumultuous early years of busing, when three small children in Lower Roxbury - faced with bomb threats and racial epithets on their way to school every day - asked me for a garden in which to plant their Dixie-cup bean sprouts. One thing led to another, and for the next 15 years I worked with many others to create community gardens and green spaces on vacant lots throughout Boston. One thing I learned - and was reminded of by Katrina - is that "poor" is not a description of a particular kind of person but a burden borne by many, each one unique, and that poverty is a series of obstacles that can be reduced, removed, or overcome.

I also learned that there is a creative space that transcends the labels "have" and "have-not," where everyone works, everyone learns, and everyone grows. Let's hope Katrina, with all her fury, opened that space very wide, so that all of us - here and there - can enter.