Why
is it that some of the simple but most meaningful moments of life seem to hide
right in plain sight? Perhaps they are not hiding. Maybe we’re just being human
and don’t look for or fail to see that which is obvious. Our excuses are varied
and, in our minds, most justified – too busy, too stressed, too put upon, too
lazy, why me, not my job, not my strength, and the list goes on.
I am ashamed
to say that Sue and I have lived in our house on East High Street for 43 years
and, while we know a few neighbors, there are many about whom we don’t have a
clue. Now whose fault is this? See paragraph one. I viscerally feel the rancor and division in
a small city that I love. It troubles me
greatly and I ponder how that came to be.
Sometimes my pondering is productive and a light bulb flashes. How can I
dare be concerned about the disconnect in my entire city when I know little
about people living just yards away?
History
has shown that humans have always searched for new frontiers to explore and
conquer. Some of those frontiers were:
the new world, the west, outer space, the moon, the internet. I propose that our own neighborhoods right
here in Milton have become a frontier which is unknown to us and that, somehow,
we have lost the motivation to explore and experience what that frontier
offers. I grew up in the fifties and
recall knowing all of our neighbors up and down the street. Although a young child, I knew neighbors’
names because, at home, we spoke of them as family. We cared about them, we knew when there were
illnesses, births, hospitalizations, deaths, and other experiences that are the
stuff of life. Where did that go?
A few
short weeks ago I began to experience again what a neighborhood could be and it
was magical. Main Hall, in the heart of
what I like to call the Milton College Historic District Neighborhood, became
the gathering place for a group of great people – my neighbors. Having been invited by Dave, Doris, Jim,
Linda, & Sue, they came together for the sole purpose of sharing pot luck
and becoming better acquainted. For many it was not only their first time
visiting Main Hall but also their first time meeting each other. Most of us will agree that visiting new
places and meeting new people can be awkward and intimidating. This event was no exception. The air was
tinged with a bit of anxiety but, here is the magic, it was quickly banished as
we shared food, regaled each other with stories, and leaned-in to the
experience. The rooms grew warm and
animated and seemed full of light. The air hummed with jovial conversation.
Smiles transformed faces and barriers disappeared. Our ages spanned young children to aging
baby-boomers – almost senior citizens.
One young lady commandeered the piano and accompanied her younger sister
who was performing acrobatics for an enthusiastic audience.
No
longer strangers who, on a good day, might wave to a nearly unknown person
backing out of a driveway or mowing a lawn, we morphed into friends, allies,
and embraced our commonalities while valuing our differences. We took a giant
leap toward building community and creating a place where kindness reigned.
Those attending were reluctant to leave; wanting instead to preserve the great
atmosphere which had spawned friendships and new-found caring among those who
lived close but didn’t really know each other.
These
positive changes were not a flash-in-the-pan occurrence that quickly went
away. I have seen new behaviors from all
of us continue. Rather than a possible
wave we call to each other across the street, we help each other manage fall
leaves, we take out and bring in trash bins for those whose circumstances and
schedules make this challenging, we add each other to our church's prayer
chains, we watch out for each other. We
care. We are kind. We have taken on that neighborhood frontier and are making
it ours. #WAM
Here are some views of the Milton College Historic District Neighborhood from my front yard.
