December 1, 2006

Life on the Porch

The air is crisp, clear, and clean. It is early in the morning, very early. The darkness is giving way to a thin ray of sunlight that seems to struggle to break through. I look across the street and see the porches, empty porches. Just yesterday those same porches were full of people - - - sitting, talking, and listening. The children, too, spend a great deal of time on the porch and in the postage-stamp-size yard, laughing, crying, playing, and fighting. When the children fight, often their parents referee the skirmishes. Children are quieted and, just like a court of law, both children are heard: then the "judge" (the hearing the case) passes judgment. The children listen to the lecture and life goes on. In the summer there are cookouts on the porch where food is shared along with life. It is on the porches where community is formed.

I look over to the porches, squint, and look again, and to my surprise there is someone on his porch. Most of those living on the porch went in hours ago, but not on this porch. The man on the porch is sitting staring into the sky, watching intently, and waiting on who knows what. It appears he has been out all night probably sleeping on the porch. As the darkness fades, more and more people open the doors of their small apartments to the outside world. Children with backpacks appear at doors and slowly, sleepily come out to wait for the bus. Mothers with "hoodies” pull up the hoods over the top of their heads and their arms recoil into their sleeves as they huddle to keep warm. As soon as they see the bus leave, they move back into apartments, perhaps to sleep a little longer or care for younger children. As the day warms up, the porches become more active. Soon the porches will be full again with most doing about the same thing they did yesterday.

Many in town look at the porches and see those who live in public housing as people who are uneducated, lazy, uncaring, and undeserving. I really don't see that. After living in the neighborhood for over a year, I see "real" people who are generally honest, caring, under-educated, under-resourced, lonely, struggling, joyful, hopeful, helpful, wise, deserving, and generous. I know that my neighbors are not perfect, but neither am I. The vast majority of my neighbors are good people. I would be less than honest if I were to say that things are ideal; they’re not. However, over the next twenty-three days I want to share the positive side of the neighborhood and share some observations that I have made. Each story is real. Sometimes the names of folks have been changed, and the subjects of the stories have read and approved
them. I want to share their stories and my observations as many of you have shared
your resources with us.