By Andy Weddington
Wednesday, 10 June 2020
Porches are America's lost rooms. Barbara Grizzuti Harrison
Matching gliders complemented with small table now adorn our front porch.
Morning coffee and evening treat more joyful.
The practically indestructible furniture, built in western North Carolina, made from man-made weather-resistant something or other guaranteed 20 years; not cheap.
Bought at Woody's.
No kidding.
Funny, to me.
Early morning, birds sing. Neighbors - asian, black, white, some with leashed dogs, walk or trot by. The hour otherwise quiet before ongoing construction sounds Reveille.
Early evening, children at play shriek and squeal and laugh. Neighbors - asian, black, white, some with leashed dogs, walk or trot by. Construction lingers masking crickets and owls and delaying Taps.
To neighbors, cordial greetings; typically. Momentary small talk; occasionally. Waves to the workers; most of whom speak little, if any, English.
Civility.
This morning, early, patriotic coffee mug in hand, still annoyed by the micro of the past few months (weeks especially) but the macro on mind.
People.
Everybody's a victim.
No exceptions.
Plus up the police!
What matters to make for better lives?
Better community?
Better country?
Civility, clearly.
Voting, merely.
And front porch glider riding, dearly.
Later, evening treat.
To win, how great, bring back America's lost room.
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