Compound Livin'

     If I had a nickel for every time someone suggested that I join a commune, I'd have about 25 cents.  Not enough to buy land, sever it and build some kind of intentional community on. ( Intentional community,  that's what the kids are calling them these days.)  I must have that look about me.  Sometimes I let my leg hairs go in the summer (and definitely in the winter)  and I own several wrap-around skirts.  Is that what it takes to thrive in one of these things?
     So, it appears, at least in my circles,  that people are looking for more community than they have.  I know exactly what they are talking about.  I've got great neighbours but I have to be lucky enough to catch them while they dash from house to car, car to house.  Often it's polite "hi" and "bye" and "is it hot 'nough for you" kind of talk, although occasionally more.  I'm part of a great church family and homeschooling network of friends but too often when we talk about getting together we just don't or if we do make the effort we're flipping calendar pages and saying "looks like were getting into next month, how about 38 days from this date at 2:00?"  And it has to be 2 p.m. because morning is no good that day and we've got swimming lessons at 4:00.   Makes you pine for effortless communication over a fence.
     So sign me up for this intentional community thing.  How great would it be to step outside and see all your neighbours sitting on their porches?  We were actually in a neighbourhood like that when my first was a baby.  It was great, old ladies who only talked and never listened (and fed cookies to my baby, my first, my holy child who would never taste chocolate before the age of 2 because that, I was convinced would lead to a lifetime of healthy habits and well-being), Jamaicans who were always "bringin' ova da rotis", the men who were addicted to renovating and giving tours of their walk-in closets, the woman with her cuban musician friends who would spontaneously play in her back yard while the neighbourhood wandered in, and there was us, the young couple with the brand-new baby to pass around.  What a great neighbourhood to begin my time as a stay-at-home mom. 
    Then we moved on up to the west side.  Nobody was out on the street.  Some, but not a lot of interaction with our closest neighbours.  But that neighbourhood had hubs.  I loved those hubs.  If you were ever tired of being inside you just had to walk to the park, or the library and there was always someone you knew well enough to talk to.  Ahhh, adult interaction.  I miss that hood in a lot of ways although it wouldn't be the same going back.  The little kids are in school now and a lot of moms have gone back to work.
     So porches and hubs.  That's what this world needs more of.  If you feel the same, I'll let you know when the next house comes for sale in my hood.  Don't worry, at no point will you be asked to wear gingham jumpers and follow a charismatic leader.  Just be willing to ask me to watch your kids a minute while you run to No Frills for the creamed corn you so need for your dinner.

P.S.  If I had a nickel for every time someone said "My, you've got your hands full"  I'd be obscenely wealthy and I'd buy me a farm where you could all come and build your own house and we'd have more than two chickens.