The PointCleareons were lucky enough to be invited to an impromptu concert by the Walker Street Opry (in which our own Blaine Anderson plays lead guitar) while we were up in Huntsville for some meetings recently. As the musicians played on the front porch of a beautiful turn of the century bungalow, kids gathered in the front yard, passers-by rolled down their windows, and a general feeling of goodwill wafted through the air along with the smell of jambalaya and barbeque.
The neighborhood reminded me of our former neighborhood in Atlanta, Inman Park. Called “Atlanta’s First Suburb,” it is only 5 minutes from downtown. Our street was lined with bungalows on narrow lots, all with the requisite front porch. Other streets boasted large, pricey Victorians by famous Atlanta architects, but our row of bunglows was well-worn and comfortable. When we bought our house the agent made sure to emphasize that the front porch swing was staying. I didn’t realize the importance of that until later.
A neighborhood has a definite user experience. In our old neighborhood - where houses were close together and being on your porch meant you were available to chat - kids and dogs ran between houses, and we knew details about our neighbors lives that made our own richer. Our dog Miles played with our neighbor’s son Miles, and we all thought it was amusing that these two energetic souls shared the same moniker. Porch parties (official and unofficial) are a weekly occurance in Inman Park.
I miss that kinship between neighbors in our new place. We live in a nice neighborhood but the houses are set back from the street and from each other, and there are no porches. We’ve improvised a bit with our new neighbors - our doggie door means they can call our dog to come play in their backyard, but it’s not the same. Pull into your garage, close the door, and you are already inside your own cocoon.
I’m reminded of a book called The Great Good Place by Ray Oldenberg. Oldenberg points out that the suburban lifestyle leaves something to be desired - a meeting or gathering place that provides a sense of community. According to one reviewer:
He calls community enhancing places “third” places because they fall just behind the home and workplaces in terms of time spent, though in his estimation are no less important. They are a necessary complement to domestic and work lives. He discusses the general nature of “third” places, as well as specific examples, including European pubs, sidewalk cafes, and coffee houses. Several characteristics are generally found in “third” places. The places are inclusive; titles and status are checked at the door. They are usually unpretentious buildings without a lot of distractions that detract from conversation and camaraderie. The same-sex nature of most such places eliminates self-conscious formalities of dress and behavior. According to the author, one could hardly exaggerate the benefits that both individuals and communities derive from gathering in “third” places. The enhancements to a viable democracy are especially noted.
Our old neighborhood had plenty of “third” places - cafes, bars, shops (my dog stayed on the front porch and never wandered off, with one exception - the day we got a call from the pet shop a few doors down that there was a “shopper” without a human companion in the store!). But I also felt as though the 4 front porches of our house and our immediate neighbors was also such a place. Those places were a halfway place between the public sidewalk and the private home. They invited the company of friends, canine and human.
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