Neighborly Love

I'm laying in bed listening to the loud purr of Natalie's white diesel truck that she uses to haul produce for her farmer's market job. Natalie lives across the street with her partner, Carl, who is a graphic designer and entrepreneurial whisky salesman. How do I know these facts? And why I am laying here writing about Natalie's old, decrepit truck? The answer to those questions gets at the heart of this contemplation of "neighborhood." It wasn't until I moved into my own rented house with friends that knowing my neighbors became important to me. Growing up I never knew or thought to contemplate having a relationship with my neighbors. I was satisfied with my life-family, a dog, school, sports, and friends whose houses I could get driven to, or who could get dropped off at my house. This was my community, and it was all I knew. College provided its own neighborliness, as I lived in either dorms or co-ops, which were built-in student communities. It makes sense that I never even considered renting an apartment or house during college with friends. I simply could not understand wanting to live elsewhere. Community and relationships were (and still are) the first and foremost thing on my mind. I loved, with a mighty passion, that I lived in a co-op where we shared food, work, and where people hung out in common space with no TV in sight. Then I left college. I moved into a 5 person house, with friends, onto Shattuck Ave, a busy thoroughfare with a park across the street. I lived there for a year, and occasionally I would have the thought, "Man, I wish I knew the neighbors." Once I gave some of our homegrown collards to the old lady next door, in exchange for using her compost bin for a week. This was about the extent of our house's neighborly affairs. And then, thank the Lord, we moved just 5 blocks away, onto the quieter 60th street with houses on both sides of the street. All of a sudden we started getting to know our neighbors like a stack of dominoes-one got tipped, and the rest followed. I believe we owe it mostly to Josh and to two of his many wonderful qualities-his friendliness/willingness to meet and chat with people, and his connections. While working on the front of the house Josh met Natalie, mentioned above. Later it turned out her housemate, Lisa, was a good friend of Josh's dad's girlfriend. Both Lisa and Natalie work for the farmer's market, and they began to drop off huge bags of leftover produce on our front doorstep. Lettuce, carrots, broccoli, beets (so many beets). Josh also knew the landlords of the house two doors down, and so we met them, and invited them over to our housewarming party. I climbed their redwood tree to the top, a 100 foot climb which allowed me to see the Golden Gate Bridge as well as into our backyard. Our wonderful and friendly neighbors across the street, Chuck and Steve, also know the same landlord that Josh knows, and so we became friendly with them. They invited us over for cocktails one night, and 8 of us twenty-somethings bombarded their home. The climax of our neighborly love occurred fortuitously on our street, in October. While walking down the street I saw someone who looked familiar. I introduced myself, and found out her name was Trixie, she went to UC Berkeley, and she also lived in the house with the huge redwood tree. We began chatting and, it being the Bay Area and all, we naturally got onto the topic of vegan cheese. "I couldn't help overhearing. Are you talking about vegan cheese?" said a woman walking by, whose name we found out was Wen, who was with her partner Chris. I said that we were. The conversation then moved onto a topic that had been in my head for a week. Backstory: Lisa, our across the street neighbor, told me about "National Block Party week," a week where various neighborhoods hosted block parties. She told me about the closest one, about a five minute bike ride away. Filled with excitement and curiosity, I pedaled on over to the 62nd and Shattuck Ave. block party. I didn't find it, and I almost gave up, but then I decided to cross the street and try the other side of the block. There I found a sight that still fills my heart with joy. The scene: Cones blocking off both sides of the street, making it pedestrian only. A gigantic BBQ with all kinds of meat cooking. Neighbors had brought all the things neighbors bring to a potluck-potato salad, a giant pasta, cookies, etc. I didn't know anyone. I began walking around talking to people, asking them about this block party. It turns out this neighborhood hasn't always been like this. About ten years ago, a few neighbors got together to make a "safety watch committee" to address crime on their street. They began hosting meetings, and meeting more of their neighbors, and then they decided to host a yearly block party. I noticed a policeman there, and he told me this street was part of his "beat," and he liked to stop by every year to meet and chat with the neighbors. Needless to say, I returned home from this block party pumped for this to happen on our own street. But there was the reality of working full-time, not knowing how to do a block party, and prioritizing other things. The block party had hit a road-block. This brings us back to my conversation with Wen, Chris and Trixie. "Hey, I've been thinking about how cool it would be to have a block party on our street," I told Wen. Her face lit up and she said she had also been thinking about that. I told her about my experience of the 62nd and Shattuck block party. She said she would look into making it happen. I figured nothing would come of it. We parted ways. Not everyone follows through in life, but Wen does. Two days later she was walking door to door in our neighborhood, getting the required 10 neighbor signatures to hold a block party. She did her research, talked to the city, doled out the 35 bucks necessary to get the permit, and set a date in October for the party. Three months later our neighbors still talk about how much fun the party was. We grilled meat and veggies, served frittata with eggs from our chickens, and ate really well. We had a sign-up sheet (Wen's idea) to create a 60th street email listserve. I met many of our neighbors, found out some of the history of our street from our older neighbors, and generally glowed inside from the feeling of communing with the people I live closest to in the whole world.

As I sit here I am astounded and blown away by that fact. How can I not know some of the people I live closest to in the whole world? This question leads me to the foundation of what I write, the questions: What factors create neighborhood community, and what factors make it irrelevant and unnecessary? I believe so strongly that neighborhood community has always been based on a mutual need for sustenance and connection. "Love thy neighbor," as the Bible tells us, is a beautiful concept on its own, but the real reason to love thy neighbor has always been because we have needed them for something. There are many somethings, but some of these needs include: -Babysitting -Borrowing equipment -Borrowing food -Having someone to connect with -Feeling safer in your neighborhood, and knowing people are watching out for you There are hundreds more needs our neighbors have always fulfilled. But now, in an age of plenty (for some), some of us can meet these needs on our own. (At this point I must add an important point: I am writing from a white, upper-middle class perspective. Many of the people on my neighborhood are also fairly well-off. It is important that my perspective be known, and that we acknowledge there are many people out there who don't have enough, and whose neighborhood experience and needs will be drastically different from my own.) If we are out of flour we go to the store to get it. We call and pay for babysitters to watch our kids. We have most of our own equipment, or we buy it if we don't have it. We connect with people differently-often through technology and non face-to-face, like Facebook, email, phone, etc. These are facts of my, and many of your, lives. They are the result of industrializing, having a roof over our heads, having convenience and ease in our lives, and above all, NOT NEEDING EACH OTHER FOR SURVIVAL. Now, I am not suggesting we somehow give all this up. That's what my 19 year old, idealistic self would have said. I know now that this is the life we have, the one we are living, and that it will gradually change, hopefully in a certain way, but that we have to deal with what is here right now. If we don't "need" our neighbors, then the question is, how do we still connect with them? I will suggest a few things I have learned, some of which I have already named above: Be a neighboorhood presence: This could mean walking your dog on the street, playing catch with your kids on the street, mowing your lawn or watering your front plants, sitting on your porch playing banjo, doing a project in your driveway. Say hello: Always say hello to everyone you see on your street Have a block party: Already described in detail above Have a neighborhood email listserve, and have peoples' numbers in your phone. Create a beautiful, detailed, hand-drawn map of the neighborhood, labeling all the houses, their inhabitants, and relevant contact info. Distribute to all the neighbors. This is something I haven't done, but would really like to Borrow stuff: Today I borrowed some straw for our animals from Natalie's backyards, and brought her persimmons from our tree. I asked four different neighbors for a packet of yeast and some coconut milk once. We have borrowed construction tools from Bob and Roberta next door. Give stuff away: I happened to have 12 pounds of cow livers that I no longer wanted in my life, so I emailed the listserve, and one of the neighbors came to get a pound of it. Sadly, I still have 11 pounds left. Besides this, our neighbors have given us apple tarts, banana bread, and too many beets to count. Invite them to dinner, or even have a game night: Enough said. Sharing food together builds a bond. Laughing and sharing a game is even better. I am left with some questions: what does this blog I have written bring out for you? What is your experience of neighborhood and community, both as a child and now? What are other ways to connect with our neighbors? How will my needs and desire for neighborhood community shift someday when I have a family? I would love to hear your thoughts. With love, Ryan I'm laying in bed listening to the loud purr of Natalie's white diesel truck that she uses to haul produce for her farmer's market job. Natalie lives across the street with her partner, Carl, who is a graphic designer and entrepreneurial whisky salesman. How do I know these facts? And why I am laying here writing about Natalie's old, decrepit truck? The answer to those questions gets at the heart of this contemplation of "neighborhood." It wasn't until I moved into my own rented house with friends that knowing my neighbors became important to me. Growing up I never knew or thought to contemplate having a relationship with my neighbors. I was satisfied with my life-family, a dog, school, sports, and friends whose houses I could get driven to, or who could get dropped off at my house. This was my community, and it was all I knew. College provided its own neighborliness, as I lived in either dorms or co-ops, which were built-in student communities. It makes sense that I never even considered renting an apartment or house during college with friends. I simply could not understand wanting to live elsewhere. Community and relationships were (and still are) the first and foremost thing on my mind. I loved, with a mighty passion, that I lived in a co-op where we shared food, work, and where people hung out in common space with no TV in sight. Then I left college. I moved into a 5 person house, with friends, onto Shattuck Ave, a busy thoroughfare with a park across the street. I lived there for a year, and occasionally I would have the thought, "Man, I wish I knew the neighbors." Once I gave some of our homegrown collards to the old lady next door, in exchange for using her compost bin for a week. This was about the extent of our house's neighborly affairs. And then, thank the Lord, we moved just 5 blocks away, onto the quieter 60th street with houses on both sides of the street. All of a sudden we started getting to know our neighbors like a stack of dominoes-one got tipped, and the rest followed. I believe we owe it mostly to Josh and to two of his many wonderful qualities-his friendliness/willingness to meet and chat with people, and his connections. While working on the front of the house Josh met Natalie, mentioned above. Later it turned out her housemate, Lisa, was a good friend of Josh's dad's girlfriend. Both Lisa and Natalie work for the farmer's market, and they began to drop off huge bags of leftover produce on our front doorstep. Lettuce, carrots, broccoli, beets (so many beets). Josh also knew the landlords of the house two doors down, and so we met them, and invited them over to our housewarming party. I climbed their redwood tree to the top, a 100 foot climb which allowed me to see the Golden Gate Bridge as well as into our backyard. Our wonderful and friendly neighbors across the street, Chuck and Steve, also know the same landlord that Josh knows, and so we became friendly with them. They invited us over for cocktails one night, and 8 of us twenty-somethings bombarded their home. The climax of our neighborly love occurred fortuitously on our street, in October. While walking down the street I saw someone who looked familiar. I introduced myself, and found out her name was Trixie, she went to UC Berkeley, and she also lived in the house with the huge redwood tree. We began chatting and, it being the Bay Area and all, we naturally got onto the topic of vegan cheese. "I couldn't help overhearing. Are you talking about vegan cheese?" said a woman walking by, whose name we found out was Wen, who was with her partner Chris. I said that we were. The conversation then moved onto a topic that had been in my head for a week. Backstory: Lisa, our across the street neighbor, told me about "National Block Party week," a week where various neighborhoods hosted block parties. She told me about the closest one, about a five minute bike ride away. Filled with excitement and curiosity, I pedaled on over to the 62nd and Shattuck Ave. block party. I didn't find it, and I almost gave up, but then I decided to cross the street and try the other side of the block. There I found a sight that still fills my heart with joy. The scene: Cones blocking off both sides of the street, making it pedestrian only. A gigantic BBQ with all kinds of meat cooking. Neighbors had brought all the things neighbors bring to a potluck-potato salad, a giant pasta, cookies, etc. I didn't know anyone. I began walking around talking to people, asking them about this block party. It turns out this neighborhood hasn't always been like this. About ten years ago, a few neighbors got together to make a "safety watch committee" to address crime on their street. They began hosting meetings, and meeting more of their neighbors, and then they decided to host a yearly block party. I noticed a policeman there, and he told me this street was part of his "beat," and he liked to stop by every year to meet and chat with the neighbors. Needless to say, I returned home from this block party pumped for this to happen on our own street. But there was the reality of working full-time, not knowing how to do a block party, and prioritizing other things. The block party had hit a road-block. This brings us back to my conversation with Wen, Chris and Trixie. "Hey, I've been thinking about how cool it would be to have a block party on our street," I told Wen. Her face lit up and she said she had also been thinking about that. I told her about my experience of the 62nd and Shattuck block party. She said she would look into making it happen. I figured nothing would come of it. We parted ways. Not everyone follows through in life, but Wen does. Two days later she was walking door to door in our neighborhood, getting the required 10 neighbor signatures to hold a block party. She did her research, talked to the city, doled out the 35 bucks necessary to get the permit, and set a date in October for the party. Three months later our neighbors still talk about how much fun the party was. We grilled meat and veggies, served frittata with eggs from our chickens, and ate really well. We had a sign-up sheet (Wen's idea) to create a 60th street email listserve. I met many of our neighbors, found out some of the history of our street from our older neighbors, and generally glowed inside from the feeling of communing with the people I live closest to in the whole world.

As I sit here I am astounded and blown away by that fact. How can I not know some of the people I live closest to in the whole world? This question leads me to the foundation of what I write, the questions: What factors create neighborhood community, and what factors make it irrelevant and unnecessary? I believe so strongly that neighborhood community has always been based on a mutual need for sustenance and connection. "Love thy neighbor," as the Bible tells us, is a beautiful concept on its own, but the real reason to love thy neighbor has always been because we have needed them for something. There are many somethings, but some of these needs include: -Babysitting -Borrowing equipment -Borrowing food -Having someone to connect with -Feeling safer in your neighborhood, and knowing people are watching out for you There are hundreds more needs our neighbors have always fulfilled. But now, in an age of plenty (for some), some of us can meet these needs on our own. (At this point I must add an important point: I am writing from a white, upper-middle class perspective. Many of the people on my neighborhood are also fairly well-off. It is important that my perspective be known, and that we acknowledge there are many people out there who don't have enough, and whose neighborhood experience and needs will be drastically different from my own.) If we are out of flour we go to the store to get it. We call and pay for babysitters to watch our kids. We have most of our own equipment, or we buy it if we don't have it. We connect with people differently-often through technology and non face-to-face, like Facebook, email, phone, etc. These are facts of my, and many of your, lives. They are the result of industrializing, having a roof over our heads, having convenience and ease in our lives, and above all, NOT NEEDING EACH OTHER FOR SURVIVAL. Now, I am not suggesting we somehow give all this up. That's what my 19 year old, idealistic self would have said. I know now that this is the life we have, the one we are living, and that it will gradually change, hopefully in a certain way, but that we have to deal with what is here right now. If we don't "need" our neighbors, then the question is, how do we still connect with them? I will suggest a few things I have learned, some of which I have already named above: Be a neighboorhood presence: This could mean walking your dog on the street, playing catch with your kids on the street, mowing your lawn or watering your front plants, sitting on your porch playing banjo, doing a project in your driveway. Say hello: Always say hello to everyone you see on your street Have a block party: Already described in detail above Have a neighborhood email listserve, and have peoples' numbers in your phone. Create a beautiful, detailed, hand-drawn map of the neighborhood, labeling all the houses, their inhabitants, and relevant contact info. Distribute to all the neighbors. This is something I haven't done, but would really like to Borrow stuff: Today I borrowed some straw for our animals from Natalie's backyards, and brought her persimmons from our tree. I asked four different neighbors for a packet of yeast and some coconut milk once. We have borrowed construction tools from Bob and Roberta next door. Give stuff away: I happened to have 12 pounds of cow livers that I no longer wanted in my life, so I emailed the listserve, and one of the neighbors came to get a pound of it. Sadly, I still have 11 pounds left. Besides this, our neighbors have given us apple tarts, banana bread, and too many beets to count. Invite them to dinner, or even have a game night: Enough said. Sharing food together builds a bond. Laughing and sharing a game is even better. I am left with some questions: what does this blog I have written bring out for you? What is your experience of neighborhood and community, both as a child and now? What are other ways to connect with our neighbors? How will my needs and desire for neighborhood community shift someday when I have a family? I would love to hear your thoughts. With love, Ryan