Cindy on November 30th, 2009
Our national myths often exaggerate the role of individual heroes and understate the importance of collective effort.” — Robert Putnam
Taking advantage of the unseasonably warm weather this month, I took a late afternoon bike ride through our subdivision. As I waved at neighbors who were fastening holiday lights to picket fences and evergreen branches, it occurred to me that my community always tops my annual gratitude list. My family and I have lived in the same neighborhood for more than 20 years, and I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be.
I know several people who crave more exotic adventures or like to move to before it’s time to repaint the living room. Americans are highly mobile — and often out of necessity. Our jobs force us to transfer. Or we follow the sun to warmer climates and better economic conditions. But wherever we live, most of us long to live in safe, strong communities where civility is valued and practiced. We want to be neighborly, notes Robert Putnam in Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community.
I couldn’t agree more. I enjoy visiting local diners “where everybody knows your name.” I prefer shopping at the same grocery store and claiming a favorite booth at local restaurants. One of my favorite jobs — though it paid poorly — was writing for my hometown newspaper and meeting readers in line at the post office.
Feeling connected to a community is as essential to me as having food and shelter, and I’m fortunate enough to live in a place where residents are making an effort to meet one another — and where creating a safe environment is a top priority. And it’s not as if my neighbors and I are stuck in a nostalgic time warp. We know from experience that neighborhoods, like families, are far from perfect. We know that building community isn’t simply a matter of throwing a great block party.
Michigan has suffered twice as hard during this tough economic recession, and our subdivision has seen an increase in theft and vandalism. Which is why we got serious and banded together. We began meeting in kitchens and living rooms to brainstorm a few solutions. For starters, we joined our city’s Neighborhood Watch Program, and then established a neighborhood e-mail chain to help keep everyone informed and connected. In the process, we started learning each other’s names as well as the needs of our immediate community.
Of course, creating a real community requires extra effort — and modern life typically conspires against it. When we’re not multi-tasking at the office, most of us are cloistered at home in communion with the TV or the computer. Building a stronger, friendlier neighborhood demands that we move outside our comfort zones and get involved. It requires that we log off our computers and visit a local park or attend a town meeting.
There are many small steps you can take to strengthen your own community bond. For starters, support neighborhood merchants and restaurants, and subscribe to your local paper. Learn more about local issues and politicians. (If others complain that the government isn’t working, suggest they help fix it.) Make a favorite dinner for a new neighbor and offer to share tools or your snow blower.
As anthropologist Margaret Mead once said, “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.” – Cindy La Ferle
– Photo of Main Street, downtown Royal Oak –
Cindy on November 22nd, 2009
He is a wise man who does not grieve for the things which he has not, but rejoices for those which he has.” ~Epictetus
I’m grateful for so much this year. I’m grateful that my family and friends have survived the economic recession, even though some of us have lost jobs, clients, assignments, or enthusiasm. We still have each other. I’m grateful for having enough of everything I need — and for having an abundance of love in my life. But topping my gratitude list right now is the happy thought of my son flying in from Chicago to visit us for the Thanksgiving holiday. He was able to schedule some extra vacation time, so he’ll be here through next weekend.
So I won’t be posting as often this week, here or on Facebook. An essay I posted last month touches on the topic of grown children coming home to visit for the holidays — and the importance of counting our everyday blessings. If you missed it earlier, please click here to read it.
Heartfelt thanks go out to all of you who stop here regularly, leave your comments, and share your own blogs and writings with me. I also want to send a special shout-out to Deb of Talk at the Table, for surprising me this week with one of the loveliest reviews of Writing Home I’ve ever received. While I often write about the fact that the Internet is a cornucopia of mixed or dubious blessings, it has introduced me to many wonderful new friends. I am so thankful for that. — CL
Cindy on November 8th, 2009
Tradition is a guide, not a jailer — W. Somerset Maugham
Over dinner with my husband’s brother and his wife last year, my husband and I broached the delicate subject of … The Holidays. I appreciated the chance to have this discussion with my in-laws. Celebrating the winter holidays, after all, is an emotionally loaded topic even among the most cordial and caring families. People-pleasers, especially, get wigged out at the very thought of trying to appease every relative perched on the family tree.
Regardless, the four of us began sharing a few of our favorite memories and traditions — the mother who stuffed the perfect Martha Stewart turkey, the barrel-chested grandpa who played Santa on Christmas Eve; the cookies we decorated with fistfuls of red and green sugar. We agreed that the nostalgic traditions of childhood are vastly different now. And still changing. They no longer involve the proverbial jaunt “over the river 
and through the woods” to Grandma’s house. Our grandparents all reside in cemeteries now, and our kids are making nests of their own.
Complicating the mix, our extended families keep extending — which makes it impossible to fit everyone around the same dining room table, even with an extra leaf in place.
One solution was to meet in smaller numbers on ordinary evenings, just as we’d done that night. Why wait for a major holiday to be a family? There, at a cozy Italian restaurant in Troy, the four of us were enjoying a rare opportunity to share what was on our minds and in our hearts. No other gifts required.
Not long after, I talked with a grieving friend who lost her mother and is struggling with a different holiday dilemma. As the eldest daughter, she inherited the tradition of hosting a Christmas Eve dinner that typically included up to 30 guests. As my friend explained, her mother was “a generous cook” who’d invite every known relative within reasonable driving distance, plus a few stray neighbors and friends who had no other plans for the evening.
“Having the house crammed with people was my mother’s idea of a perfect holiday,” my friend said. “I feel guilty, but my house is smaller, and I’d much rather have a quiet celebration.” So my friend decided to trim her guest list to a manageable 14. To honor her late mother’s memory, her siblings will bring a favorite family dish to the potluck.
Tradition is a good thing when it keeps us connected to people and places we love. It’s the essential ingredient in our most treasured family recipes. Baking shortbread, for instance, is a comforting ritual that links me to my Scottish ancestors, and it’s the only time I use pounds of real butter without flinching.
But tradition is not a good thing when it’s a futile taskmaster.
“It is my opinion that Norman Rockwell and his ilk have done more to make already anxious people feel guilty than anyone else,” wrote the late Gourmet magazine columnist Laurie Colwin. “The fact is, family is variable, but our stereotypical image of it is not.”
For the record, the family life of Norman Rockwell, “America’s painter,” was colored by three unhappy marriages, including one to a long-suffering alcoholic. All said and done, we can’t possibly replicate our nostalgic past, nor should we feel obligated to remain frozen in someone else’s sugarcoated holiday vision. Ideally, we can combine the best of both worlds — the cherished recipes and rituals we’ve inherited, along with a few newer customs that have meaning to us.
As we mature, we’ll likely have to negotiate some holiday changes with our families. This might require that we welcome a sibling’s new spouse and step kids, or a gay cousin’s partner, to the table. We might have to learn how to bake our mother-in-law’s pumpkin pie from scratch. Or, we might decide to throw in the dishtowel, turn off the oven, and host the whole flock at the local diner. Meanwhile, I’ve decided to relax and count my blessings — which include several festive restaurants within a three-mile radius of home. Here’s to a happy, stress-free holiday season for every woman! — Cindy La Ferle
– This essay originally appeared in Strut magazine–
