There's a fantastic new book by Peter Lovenheim making waves called "In the Neighborhood: The Search for Community on an American Street, One Sleepover at a Time."
In the book, Lovenheim is dealing with a murder/suicide in his neighborhood that sent shock ripples through him and his neighbors. The shock comes not just from the nature of the tragedy, but from the fact that Lovenheim didn't even know the murderer or the victim. It made him realize that he'd been living in a bubble. He didn't know anything about his neighbors. So he sets out to fix that by not only introducing himself to his neighbors, but asking to stay over their houses and see what happens behind the houses he drives by everyday.
Reading this book made me think about my own neighbors. Lovenheim details how at some point, Americans became fixated on putting their personal lives online, while at the same time shutting themselves away from actual human connection located just a few steps from their front doors.
This reminded me of my mother. She lives in a suburban neighborhood where there are only a few houses on every street, but even that's not good enough for her.
"I want to live in the woods."
I've always heard her say this, but it wasn't until after I read the book that I decided to ask why she felt this need to be secluded away from other people.
"I just like my privacy," she said.
But what about community?
What about borrowing a cup of sugar?
What about the fact that it's a little bit unsettling that most of us have no idea what happens behind the door located next to us or right across the street from us?
Why is this considered okay?
A few days ago, I was walking my dog when she stopped in front of a house to sniff around a little bit.
A woman came out of the house, and said--in a very caustic voice:
"That dog better not be going to the bathroom on my lawn."
She didn't introduce herself, or ask politely for me to take my dog elsewhere. She didn't act like a neighbor at all.
It didn't seem to concern her that I may live just a few houses down from her--as in fact, I do.
Once she was done scolding me, she went back in her house and shut the door.
Now, I understand people's need for privacy, but it seems to me that we complain an awful lot in this country about the pervasive disrespect and disconnection that seems to be occurring everywhere.
Maybe we could put a stop to it if some of us sacrificed a little privacy and ventured out into our neighborhoods like Peter Lovenheim did.
After all, how much would you really be giving up?
Aside from a cup of sugar, that is.
In the book, Lovenheim is dealing with a murder/suicide in his neighborhood that sent shock ripples through him and his neighbors. The shock comes not just from the nature of the tragedy, but from the fact that Lovenheim didn't even know the murderer or the victim. It made him realize that he'd been living in a bubble. He didn't know anything about his neighbors. So he sets out to fix that by not only introducing himself to his neighbors, but asking to stay over their houses and see what happens behind the houses he drives by everyday.
Reading this book made me think about my own neighbors. Lovenheim details how at some point, Americans became fixated on putting their personal lives online, while at the same time shutting themselves away from actual human connection located just a few steps from their front doors.
This reminded me of my mother. She lives in a suburban neighborhood where there are only a few houses on every street, but even that's not good enough for her.
"I want to live in the woods."
I've always heard her say this, but it wasn't until after I read the book that I decided to ask why she felt this need to be secluded away from other people.
"I just like my privacy," she said.
But what about community?
What about borrowing a cup of sugar?
What about the fact that it's a little bit unsettling that most of us have no idea what happens behind the door located next to us or right across the street from us?
Why is this considered okay?
A few days ago, I was walking my dog when she stopped in front of a house to sniff around a little bit.
A woman came out of the house, and said--in a very caustic voice:
"That dog better not be going to the bathroom on my lawn."
She didn't introduce herself, or ask politely for me to take my dog elsewhere. She didn't act like a neighbor at all.
It didn't seem to concern her that I may live just a few houses down from her--as in fact, I do.
Once she was done scolding me, she went back in her house and shut the door.
Now, I understand people's need for privacy, but it seems to me that we complain an awful lot in this country about the pervasive disrespect and disconnection that seems to be occurring everywhere.
Maybe we could put a stop to it if some of us sacrificed a little privacy and ventured out into our neighborhoods like Peter Lovenheim did.
After all, how much would you really be giving up?
Aside from a cup of sugar, that is.
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