Most of my younger years were spent living on a street with a cul-de-sac in San Diego, California. It was a street where the neighbors were always in their front yards and children played outside. By day, Big Wheels were commonplace racing up and down the street and evening time brought raucous games of "kick the can" as us kids scattered to hide from whoever was “it.”
Impromptu pot luck parties broke out where everyone would gather in the circle, kids and adults alike. There was laughter, music, friendship and genuine care and love for neighbor. Everyone watched out for everyone else.
My best girlfriends all lived there. We went from Barbies to babysitting to boys together. Front doors were always open and our lives spilled out into the front yards and street.
It was a happy time on Carioca Court, and we were all like most other streets in most other neighborhoods across the country. Community was important to everyone. It was our clan, our tribe, our extended family. I have such fond memories of those carefree years and remember feeling safe and looked after.
Fast forward 50 years to my life today . . . we moved to a gated community in Central Florida in 2008. Coincidentally our new home was also on a cul-de-sac and happy memories surfaced as I thought how much my own kids would enjoy growing up in this neighborhood. My husband, being from the South and from the country, was about the friendliest guy you could meet and looked forward, as I did, to new friends and a new "circle."
Three months passed and not a single neighbor stopped by to say hello or welcome us. We spent time out front, gardening, tossing a football, hanging out. Where was everyone? Even as a neighbor would drive by, we would toss up a hand to wave but they would never even look our way, let alone stop to say hello. {not being rude, just preoccupied}
We decided to have a big Halloween Party and sent invitations to everyone on our street (over 40 homes). We threw open our doors and allowed trick-or-treaters and neighbors alike to come in, say hello, have a bite. We laughed and met neighbors and finally at 3am, the last person left. We broke the ice and looked forward to years of happy memories with great people on our lovely street.
It's now 2019, and sadly I have to say that I have not seen a single neighbor socially since that Halloween party 8 years ago. After the party, things went right back to the way they were - no one spoke, no one gathered, no one waved.
Don't get me wrong, I am sure that they are all wonderful people. A few have friended me on Facebook and I see them there (but not on my street). Even when my husband passed, I got two cards in the mail but no one called or came by. Again I will say, these are all good people and there are no bad intentions on their part and I am not judging. I am just curious. Why did we never make connections?
And then it occurred to me . . . we have all become "back yard people." Absorbed in our own little busy lives, our culture today has turned inward toward electronic devices, material things, preoccupied with our sets of issues and problems. So much so that we stopped relying on community to provide the happy moments and especially to support us in the bad.
This phenomenon is sad to me and I miss human connection. It has bothered me many times, especially now that I am alone. Not long ago, I saw Kristin Schell interviewed about her book,
The Turquoise Table
Kristin nailed it. She too, had the same struggles but she decided to do something about it! She took an old picnic table, painted it turquoise, and strategically placed it in her front yard, close to where people would pass by. How can a person not stop to admire a table like that and how could one not break the ice to have a conversation about it?
I am in love with this idea and have begun to follow Kirstin’s movement HERE. Not only is the idea creating community around the world, it is also bringing neighbors together to fund-raise for charity, volunteer for worthy causes and spreading friendship and love in this world that seems to be so divided lately. It all begins with us. A simple gesture can become a ground swelling movement. I choose love. I choose friendship over isolation.
I’m looking for my table now and plan to place it right under my shady live oak in my front yard. Let’s work toward becoming front yard people. I guess the next hurdle will be the homeowner’s association . . . one battle at a time!