Life on the Porch

Life on the Porch

The air is crisp, clear, and clean. It is early in the morning, very early. The darkness is giving way to a thin ray of sunlight that seems to struggle to break through. I look across the street and see the porches, empty porches. Just yesterday those same porches were full of people---sitting, talking, and listening. The children, too, spend a great deal of time on the porch and in the postage-stamp-size yard, laughing, crying, playing, and fighting....Many in town look at the porches and see those who live in public housing as people who are uneducated, lazy, uncaring, and undeserving. I really don't see that. After living in the neighborhood for over a year, I see "real" people who are generally honest, caring, under-educated, under-resourced, lonely, struggling, joyful, hopeful, helpful, wise, deserving, and generous. I know that my neighbors are not perfect, but neither am I. The vast majority of my neighbors are good people I would be less than honest if I were to say that things are ideal, they're not. However, over the next twenty three days I want to share the positive side of the neighborhood and share some observations that I have made. Each story is real. Sometimes the names of folks have been changed, the subjects of the stories have read and approved it. I want to share their stories and my observations as many of you have shared your resources with us.

Gloria

She sits on her small porch that has enough room for her plastic chair and for the door of her apartment to open and close. Two steps down sit neighbors talking with Gloria in chairs that Gloria has provided. Gloria listens intently as neighbors ask questions, share stories, and seek advice. Meanwhile, Gloria's granddaughter, along with other neighbor children, run all around the small front yard playing tag, swirling around Gloria and those relaxing in the chairs. Suddenly, one of the children spies a praying mantis hanging on the large tree in the front yard. The insect hangs on the tree, like those sitting in Gloria'’s yard hang on her words. Gloria's granddaughter runs to retrieve an old jar with a warped plastic lid resting on the top. As she bends over to pick up the jar from near the porch, she yells, "Is it a boy or a queen?"”.......Gloria is what I call the neighborhood "Pastor": she listens to the concerns of her neighbors, gives advice, and explains to young moms how to cook the strange produce that often arrives in the neighborhood. She gives tips on child rearing, advises the women not to put up with men who do not respect them or their children, and tells stories of the things she has gleaned from her sixty some years of life. It is not unusual for Gloria to be in church on Sunday, even though it is a struggle to walk across the street and get up the long flight of stairs....