The St. Johns River is more than a body of water in Jacksonville — it’s a memory keeper. It carries the stories of shrimpers and shipbuilders, of families who grew up fishing from wooden docks, of neighborhoods shaped by tides and storms. It is the quiet force that binds the city’s past to its future. But the river is also a mirror. It reflects the inequities, pressures, and possibilities of the communities along its banks. And in Jacksonville, a growing coalition of residents and organizations is stepping forward to protect it — not just as an ecosystem, but as a shared civic inheritance.
The river faces a familiar but urgent list of threats: polluted runoff, wetland loss, industrial expansion, and climate‑driven flooding. For decades, these challenges were treated as technical problems — issues for scientists, regulators, and agencies. But in Jacksonville’s neighborhoods, the river’s decline has never been abstract. Floodwaters rise into yards. Storm drains back up. Trash collects in creeks. Fish kills appear after summer storms. Residents see the river’s health in real time, and they feel its consequences. That lived experience is reshaping who leads the fight for the river.
When St. Johns Riverkeeper advocate Lisa Rinaman stands on the riverbank, she doesn’t talk about data first — she talks about people. The fisherman who can’t cast where he used to. The grandmother whose street floods every king tide. The students who learn that their river is both beautiful and vulnerable. Riverkeeper’s work blends science with civic action: monitoring water quality, challenging harmful development, educating neighborhoods, and mobilizing volunteers. Their message is simple: the river belongs to everyone, and everyone has a role in protecting it.
LISC Jacksonville is known nationally for housing and economic development, but in Jacksonville, its work increasingly intersects with environmental resilience. In neighborhoods along the Trout River and Ribault River, LISC helps residents secure funding for stormwater improvements, build green infrastructure, and lead their own planning processes. LISC’s approach reframes environmental protection as a justice issue. Flooding, pollution, and poor drainage don’t hit every neighborhood equally — and LISC helps communities organize to change that.
In Riverview, a historic, predominantly Black neighborhood bordered by the Trout River, residents have long felt overlooked in conversations about flooding and environmental investment. The Riverview Collective Community Organization is changing that. They host creek cleanups, organize neighborhood meetings, and push for infrastructure improvements. They partner with Riverkeeper and LISC, but they also build their own leadership — rooted in the belief that the people who live closest to the river should have the strongest voice in its future. Their work is a reminder that environmental stewardship is not just about ecosystems — it’s about dignity, representation, and belonging.
In Lake Forest Hills, just west of the Trout River, the Lake Forest Hills Next Door Community Network has become a lifeline. Residents use it to report flooding, organize cleanups, share environmental alerts, and support seniors during storms. It’s not a formal nonprofit. It’s neighbors talking to neighbors — and that’s exactly why it works. Their hyper‑local vigilance fills gaps that agencies can’t always reach. When a storm drain clogs, a creek overflows, or illegal dumping occurs, the community responds first. They are the river’s eyes and ears.
What ties these groups together is not a shared structure — it’s a shared belief: the health of the St. Johns River is inseparable from the health of the communities along it. Riverkeeper brings science and advocacy. LISC brings resources and planning. Riverview Collective brings grassroots leadership. Lake Forest Hills brings hyper‑local action. Together, they form a civic ecosystem as interconnected as the river system they protect.
The St. Johns River has shaped Jacksonville for centuries. Now, Jacksonville’s residents are shaping the river’s future. Their work is not glamorous. It’s not always visible. But it is powerful — and it is growing. In a city defined by water, these are the voices rising to protect it. Not as experts or activists alone, but as neighbors, storytellers, and stewards of a river that holds their history and their hope.



















Congressman Mark Messner (IN) on the trumpet.
Representatives Jared Huffman (CA), Becca Balint (VT), and Sean Casten (IL) perform together.
What Is It To You?
As part of a collaboration between The Fulcrum's NextGen initiative and Made By Us, The Fulcrum is publishing Letters to America, a series created through the Youth250 project that invites Gen Z to reflect on the nation’s past, present, and future as the United States approaches its 250th anniversary.
Dear America,
Oftentimes, we find ourselves at the crossroads of me or we. This presents the age-old question that has been asked countless times: What is it to you?
It is indisputable that, as a result of the pandemic, we have become more individualistic as a society. We should be a country where there are different understandings, but a shared identity of compassion and acceptance of differences. While the age-old question is individualistic, perhaps we can extend it to be collective.
What is it to you when your neighbor is hurting and suffering under the weight of life? What is it to you when the government implicates civil rights and freedoms, irrespective of political party? What is it to you when policies negatively impact the least among us?
As we celebrate America's 250th anniversary, let us look back as we look forward. It is only when we ask questions in the collective on how we act as human beings and how the government asserts power that we rise to be the shining city on the hill.
The following is my request: check on one another, even amid troubling times across multiple areas of society. Together, we can overcome our own weaknesses, character flaws, and blind spots, so that the sun may never stop shining over our nation, our country, and our home.
Carlos David Gamez, 23, Lakeland, FL