August 12, 1983
Our society is getting colder.
I’ve watched the progress of the dehumanizing of neighborhoods with interest and a sense of loss, wondering at where it will all lead and remembering how it was before we began shutting one another out.
Just this weekend, one of the possible causative factors came through to me loud and clear.
It was Sunday evening in an older section of North Wildwood. There was a slight ocean breeze drifting through the trees and it seemed like every home on the block had people congregated on the porches … sitting on railings, rocking in wicker chairs, lying back on steps. Typical lazy way to end a hot summer day.
Riding along Pacific Avenue south, the neighborhoods changed and gave way to new construction … neat ranch homes, modest two-story houses and magnificent modern edifices with skylights, roof-to-floor windows and an airy, shore look.
No people in sight. Not a one.
Why?
No porches!
Almost without exception, the newer neighborhoods contained homes with the lounging areas in back, hidden in many cases by fences required to enclose swimming pools, or just desired for “privacy.
Maybe we’ve “privacy-ed” ourselves out of closeness with our neighbors!
Maybe we’re cutting ourselves off from the human factor that used to make day-to-day living bearable.
Sure, the decks and porches in the rear of the homes are beautifully landscaped and leave the fronts uncluttered, but by being behind everything, they also effectively make the houses look uninhabited … perhaps the intended effect.
In the old days (not uniformly, however, the good old days!) the front porch was the hub of the neighborhood.
My grandmother and grandfather used to while away literally hours on their front porch, a long narrow structure (I remember having to step over the feet to get to the end of the swing to join them) that looked out on the street and the porches of our neighbors. As each family took up their positions on the porches, greetings were called across yards and roadways. Comments on the heat of the day were exchanged. News of the kids or the grandkids traveled up and down the street. Occasionally, there were matters of sufficient import to warrant someone’s leaving the comfort of his or her porch to walk next door for an extended, non-yelling conversation.
Mostly, though, the older folk rocked, knitted, puffed on a pipe or daydreamed while the younger set played out front, rode bikes up and down the streets or got a baseball game or hopscotch going with other neighborhood kids.
It was quiet, friendly and close knit.
Without the porches, people would have missed the contact with each other that was fostered at dusk.
It would be like it is today in many of our neighborhoods.
Robert Frost wrote a poem one about how fences keep people from each other.
He wasn’t big on fences.
I’m not mad about decks and backyard retreats.
I’m for the return of the front porch … swing, rocker and all.
It seems to be one part of the old days that might be good to bring back.
A part that brought people together … instead of the increasing isolation we see today.
A part that helped put the “good” in old days.
No comments:
Post a Comment