Come on up and sit a spell
Contributing writer
One of my heart children gave me a book for Christmas, "The Comfort of Rest and Reassurance" by Roy Lessin and Heather Solum. (She tells me she finds it hard to find gifts for people who don't read; I gather I am no problem.) This book has the subtitle, "Inspiration from the Front Porch," which got me to thinking about front porches. I know that is an odd topic for mid-winter, but you are stuck with it.
I love houses with big front porches, even though most of them are 100 years old. My only serious complaint about my own little home is the minuscule size of its front porch. Nowadays most people see porches as only an access to the front door. In summer everyone wants to hurry inside where the air conditioning is.
When I was growing up, people spent most of their leisure time in the summer sitting on their front porches. When my brothers and I were small, our front porch had a gate across the steps and served as a large play pen. Mom felt perfectly safe putting us out there until a friend warned her I might try to get out between the spindles and hang myself. This was one bit of mischief my brothers had never attempted. Neither had I until I eavesdropped on Mom's conversation with her friend. The next day she found me with my body completely outside and my little toes clinging to the edge of the porch, as I tried unsuccessfully to work my head through. Even at the age of two I apparently didn't miss much.
As we grew up, one or both of our parents would watch from the porch, as we played in the yard. If neighbors came to visit in summer, everyone was more likely to sit on the porch than in the living room. Anyone walking by (and people walked a lot more in those days) would be invited to come on up and visit a while. Don't misunderstand me. I wouldn't want to give up our air-conditioned homes. But friends did visit a lot more when the coolest spot in hot weather was the front porch.
Although I don't have a big, sociable front porch on my house, I do sit in my backyard a lot in summer. I have a glider and a couple of lawn chairs out there, and once in a while someone stops to visit. Not often, though. People are usually in too big a hurry nowadays. I don't know whether our greater isolation from each other these days can be blamed on the passing of the front porch, but I think it entirely possible.
Many of us have little opportunity to sit on a front porch these days, but those of us who grew up there have a sort of symbolic front porch in our hearts, as Lessin and Solum point out. It is a quiet place where we can pull away from all the stresses in our lives and invite contemplation.
As these authors say, "Your front porch may be found by a rustic cabin that overlooks a mountain stream; it may be a stoop on a crowded city street; symbolically, it may be a quiet place deep inside you
If your life is getting too hectic, make some time to sit on a literal or figurative front porch and unwind. And the next warm day let's meet on a front porch somewhere to chew the fat and enjoy the breeze.
