If America had a front porch...

It was where my mama sat on that old swing with her crochet
It was where grandaddy taught me how to cuss and how to pray
It was where we made our own ice cream those sultry summer nights
Where the bulldog had her puppies and us brothers had our fights
There were many nights I'd sit right there and look out at the stars
To the sound of a distant whippoorwhill or the hum of a passin' car
It was where I first got up the nerve to steal me my first kiss
And it was where I learned to play guitar and pray I had the gift
If the world had a front porch like we did back then
We'd still have our problems but we'd all be friends
Treatin' your neighbor like he's your next of kin
Wouldn't be gone with the wind
If the world had a front porch like we did back then.

-Tracy Lawrence

On these late summer nights, my thoughts sometimes go back to my childhood in Texas, when the place to be in the late evening and long after dark was the front porch. I have a wealth of fond front porch memories.

Whatever happened to the front porch? Yes, I know many houses still have them, at least many of the older houses. But it does seem as though people don't spend time on the porch as they did then; it was not only an important place for family life but for interacting with the neighbors. Friends and neighbors passing by would stop and join those on the porch for a visit, or people would simply wave or call out a greeting. The porch was a front-row seat to everything that was going on in the neighborhood. Everybody got to know everybody else mainly from these kinds of interactions.

Of course in those days we kids could play outdoors until late in the evening, and we were safe; there were always neighbors keeping an eye on things. It was sort of like the neighborhood block watch although we had no concept of that back then; it was just neighbors being neighborly and everybody looking out for each other.
And often the extended family spent time together, so that aunts, uncles, cousins, and various shirttail relatives were coming and going; it made for a household with a lot of activity and excitement.

I remember many long evenings on the front porch; in those days, though it's hard to believe now, we had no air-conditioning. We lived with the windows open because of the heat, and the front porch was a comfortable place to be in the evening when the heat of the day was gone. The porch was the place to watch the stars at night, which always fascinated me; I learned to identify the constellations just watching the heavens those summer nights. Listening to the noise of the crickets, watching the lightning bugs, eavesdropping on the conversations of the older folks, it was much better entertainment than television. Around that time, television was already working changes in American society; more and more, people were clustered around the TV rather than out on the porch in the evening. I suppose for us, the temptation was lessened by the fact that we only had one TV station in our town, and there was nothing of interest to watch. But as time went by, television claimed more and more of each family's time and attention, and there was less conversation and 'visiting' going on, but even so, the old ways of interacting survived much longer there than in some areas of the country. When we moved North during my high school years, the contrast was noticeable; there was more isolation, less interaction. And maybe the cooler climate discouraged sitting outdoors on the porch.

And also, around that time, the newer style of houses being built often had no porch, although there may have been a patio or lanai on the back side of the house, and a high fence separating neighbors. Robert Frost said 'good fences make good neighbors' but it seems as if they also diminish sociability.

And down South, air conditioning became almost universal, by necessity, I suppose, because of the hot and humid climate. But how did we ever manage without it? When I consider that our schools as well as homes were not air-conditioned, I wonder how we survived. I suppose we were hardy, and used to the heat, whereas now we have become dependent on our creature comforts. But the ubiquitous air conditioning lured more people to retreat behind closed doors where it was cool.

And there is one more force at work to break down the front-porch socializing and the friendly neighborhood. There's just no getting around the fact that, as political scientist Robert Putnam in his now-famous study found, 'diversity', meaning an aggregation of many dissimilar peoples, breaks down social cohesion.

In diverse communities, Putnam observed, people "hunker down": They withdraw, have fewer "friends and confidants," distrust their neighbors regardless of the color of their skin, expect the worst from local leaders, volunteer and car-pool less, give less to charity and "agitate for social reform more," with little hope of success. They also huddle in front of the television. Activism alternates with escapism, unhappiness with ennui.

Trust was lowest in Los Angeles, "the most diverse human habitation in human history," a finding the "progressive" Putnam, who hangs out at Harvard, found perplexing. ''

Can we, in spite of all the changes in our society which have weakened our social bonds, return to the era of front-porch socializing and tight-knit neighborhoods? Apparently, there is a move to do that, termed Traditional Neighborhood Development, and 'neotraditional' communities:

...These neotraditional small towns and historic neighborhoods integrate various housing styles and sizes with a network of streets that encourage pedestrian activity and interaction. In contrast with the conventional suburban approach of placing houses far away from the street, TND homes are pulled forward toward narrower, tree-lined streets. This creates streetscapes reminiscent of many neighborhoods built during the early part of this century. Since most of the elements of TNDs are based on details and ideas from our heritage, it's not surprising that one of the most important elements of a TND home is the front porch.''

I think it's laudable to try to restore some of the neighborhood-enhancing traditions that worked so well for us in the past. I think the fact that there is a 'neotraditional' school of thought in town planning is a good thing, and a sign of the fact that many people feel a yearning for the old style of American life, with its genuine sense of community.

Community. It's too bad that the word has been commandeered by the left and contorted to mean any of their 'special interest' clients: the 'immigrant community' the 'gay community' and so on. So now the word community which used to signify a group of neighbors, people who had some real bond or connection, is now corrupted in meaning. But we all have an innate need for community; a need for belonging and feeling connected to others who are similar to us in background, ways of thinking, habits, customs, and language. Much of our social dysfunction seems to be related to a lack of real community, a lack of a support system of family, friends and neighbors around us.

But can re-creating the physical surroundings that fostered real community bring back what we have lost?
It may be that we can't put Humpty Dumpty back together again; our old American neighborhoods and communities may be vanished for the most part, and if 'diversity' increases we will be struggling against the tide in trying to restore community. Well-planned towns and friendly front porches won't cure all our ills; they won't bond us to neighbors who don't speak our language, pray to the same God, or follow customs similar to ours.
They won't remove the suspicion and outright hostility that seems intrinsic to 'diversity'.

To really restore what has been lost -- or more accurately, stolen from us, we will need to regain our freedom of association, and we must try to restore leaders who will respect the will of the people, and our traditional way of life which worked so well for us.