This, I do solemnly affirm, is a Letter posted on the first of April—but NOT an April Fool’s column. This one may border on obvious or trite, but it matters a great deal to me.
I’ve written before (last year) about loving your neighbors (16 January 2023) and about liberty vs. toleration (13 February 2023)—both related to this—but this is pretty different.
Community Matters
Community is many things, but it is not some of what some people think it is—
Community DOES mean paying enough attention to neighbors to know when one of them might need something;
But community does NOT mean getting into other people’s business (people have a right to privacy in a community as much as if they lived in a farmhouse in the midst of 200 acres of lonely, windswept countryside).
Community DOES mean being willing to volunteer some time and energy, and sometimes even some money, for the common good;
But community does NOT require any of us to take on unlimited burdens or to sacrifice unreasonably for the good of others.
Community DOES mean tolerating and sometimes even welcoming differences in our neighbors, even on things we have strong opinions on—regarding presidential candidates or religion, say;
But community does NOT require you to change your mind about your own opinions or to suppress your views or to pretend you agree when you don’t.
All this was brought to mind recently by two different community actions where several volunteers sprung into action.—the first was by a man named Orpheus S., who lives in the same community as I do, but not in the same building of condos. My wife Diane and I were working on—struggling, in truth—with a minor problem for the community for which I had some responsibility, and Orpheus stopped on his way to work and lent a hand. As it happens, he had the strength and the skill (I was short on both) to lead me into getting that job done.
As we were working on this, it became clear that Orpheus was going to be late to work if he stayed with it, and we said we could probably get it finished and for him to go on to work. (We were less than confident.) He wouldn’t hear of it—“I finish what I start. We’ll get this done.” And we did. I hope his customers appreciate who he is when he got there.
Somewhat less important but just as heartening was when Jay O’M. stepped up to help me complete the last thing related to this, helping dispose of an awkward-to-get-rid-of bit that I was grappling with. Again, I didn’t ask for help—Jay just saw me fighting the item and stepped in and we got it done.
The other recent important community act that led me to think about and then write about community came from Mr. Tenor Sax, also known as Captain Stack—another neighbor from yet another building. Captain S. grew worried, in discussions with others in his building, about one of their neighbors, and he resolved to find a way to reach out and help, to check on “Pete” and do some things for him; but he also worried about intruding in “Pete’s” private affairs or living space. He approached others—including me—very guardedly over this, and marshalled a small but eager group to get “Pete” some support as needed. It worked out for “Pete” and it reminded me, again, of why we need each other—and why community means having thoughtful leaders like Captain S. who’ll step up thoughtfully and get others to as well.
There are many, many other examples—Judith who organized coffee get togethers, Nancy L. and Daphne, who (unasked) pick up trash and litter routinely; a bunch of folks who’re collaborating on gardening and landscaping improvements; and more.
And I cannot leave out “Sunny”—who made hummingbird cake for people still waiting for the first hummingbirds of the season. As good as this looks, it was even better:
Some community stuff can likely be done by phone or e-mail, but there’s mostly really no substitute for live, in-person neighbors to make life in a community fun, interesting, and worthwhile.
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Wonderful thoughts, Ed!
Ah, yes. I remember community. I grew up in a suburb of Decatur, Georgia called Belvedere Park. We knew the names of our neighbors and interacted frequently. The kids all played together, and the adults were on a first-name basis. Nobody asked about your politics or religion, and we did not wear our opinions on our sleeves. About the only thing that divided us was football loyalties. Some neighbors a few doors down were Alabama fans and kind of pushy about it. (This was when Bear Bryant was the 500-pound gorilla of college football.) There were a few squabbles, but we knew each other and got along very well for the most part.
Now I live in the town of Friendswood, Texas, perhaps the most misnamed town in America except for Progress, Mississippi (joke). The only friendly neighbor is the Muslim family next door. Others will speak if I address them directly, but only briefly and sullenly. Otherwise, you never get so much as a friendly wave. Mostly, they studiously ignore you, like the kid in my class one time who sat on the back row staring at his laptop and never looked at me. In fact, I hardly ever see them. I am sure there are kids in the neighborhood, but I never see them except when on their way to or from school.
Why the change? I can't think of anything except that Americans like each other much less than they did sixty years ago.
Neighbors are great when they're great, but having just 1 bad one can really be bad. (Speaking from experience, unfortunately!) I'm glad you have a loving community - we all need a little (sometimes a lot) help from our friends!