Community

Community is an elusive thing here in car-dependent America. Community used to be somewhat interchangeable with neighborhood as a concept. Not now. I begin to see my role in a community here where I moved one year ago. I am having routine and regular interactions with members of the neighborhood. There are my fellow walkers, who stroll around every day, as I do. Gradually, looks of recognition are exchanged with smiles and simple salutations. The neighbors across the lane, an elderly woman and her bachelor son, are part of most of my days in some form. One police officer, who often patrols my neighborhood in a car, frequently waves. My mailman and I have regular encounters which are quite jovial. The Russian immigrants down the lane have become quite vocally friendly. Initially, they were very wary. Community isn't like a club you just join when you enter a neighborhood near a major city as a middle-aged man, living alone. There have been no welcome wagons. It is part of my practice to seek community as a method to maintain my compassion for and mindfulness of those around me.