Graham Nash (the Hollies and Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young) has described Cass Elliot (the Mamas and Papas) as “the Gertrude Stein of Laurel Canyon” — that she had a “salon” similar to the one at 27 Rue de Fleurus in Paris in the 1920s. Cass brought her friends from the music and movie worlds together. She was a conversationalist and a storyteller who could hold forth on anything and everything, and according to Stephen Stills “you could always go over there. But call first.” (An Oral History of Laurel Canyon)
Growing up in North Dakota, I did what many other kids in North Dakota do during the summer — worked on a farm. It seemed everyone had connections to farming somehow. If I wasn’t golfing with my best friend Jerry, I was at the farm cultivating, picking rock, pulling weeds or harvesting.
Late August was the time to bring in the crops, which was always wheat. Wheat was about all that grew on our land. While my dad operated the combine and harvested, I hauled the wheat to the grain elevator in the little town of Alamo (where the farm was and my grandparents lived). Going to the elevator meant waiting in the lobby for the results of the load. The lobby was decorated with what seemed to be old bus seats repurposed as chairs, and a coffee pot a quarter full of day old coffee. Only the most unsuspecting fool would touch that coffee pot. There was normally four or five farmers, all in OshKosh overalls — talking and waiting. Being the only teenager, I most often just sat quietly. Nobody much cared what teenagers had to say. However our wheat always had some of the highest protein levels in the area (giving me credibility); so if I did say something at least they listened.
But what I do remember was the conversation wasn’t just small talk. These farmers, who were the civic leaders in the small town of Alamo, talked about problems they all faced; but most of all they talked about solutions. And by the time group dispersed, scattering to their respective fields to get the next load … they all seem to have some sort of a task to resolve to whatever problem Alamo was facing. Maybe it was helping out someone or just checking in on them. Regardless, it was normally something.
I imagine Alamo had a formal town council of some sort, but it wouldn’t surprise me if the real work happened there in the grain elevator while we sat on those repurposed bus seats waiting for our protein counts.
Minot, where I actually lived and went to school had Charlie’s restaurant and the Elks Lodge. These were Minot’s version of Alamo’s grain elevator. These were the places where the “business of the community” was done. These were the places where ideas were hatched and where the future of Minot was mapped out … often under the influence of a libation or two.
Front Porches
Those meeting places from my past were most always locally owned businesses. I call them Front Porches, named after the front yard gathering spots so often seen in Latino communities that are used for neighborhood discussion and connection to the street. These Front Porches are where the Middle Ring flourishes and what the French political philosopher, Alex de Tocqueville, observed as the source of America’s “exceptionalism” of the 1800’s.
Unfortunately our Front Porches, like the grain elevator in Alamo, the Elks Lodge in Minot and the Latino front yards — are fast becoming a relics of the past. And with this; our Middle Rings and the neighborhood continuity they bring, are following suit.
“Few Americans today say they know their neighbors’ names, and far fewer report interacting with them on a daily basis. Pulling data from the General Social Survey, economist Joe Cortright wrote in a recent City Observatory report that only about 20 percent of Americans spent time regularly with the people living next to them. A third said they’ve never interacted with their neighbors. That’s a significant decline from four decades ago, when a third of Americans hung out with their neighbors at least twice a week, and only a quarter reported no interaction at all.” (Community Ties in an Era Isolation)
A city is a function of its Front Porch small business community just like Minot was a function of Charlie’s and the Elks Lodge. And these weren’t the only Front Porches in Minot. They were all over town. They met and acted independently. Some weren’t even physically in Minot. During the summer every weekend, Lake Metigoshe, seventy miles north straddling the Canadian border, was a collective Front Porch made up of cabins scattered around the lake. Nobody thought of these weekend getaways as having any civic importance, but they did. They hatched school board candidacies and small business ventures. Most of all, they provided good food and drink, and a place where those were brought together who wouldn’t otherwise have been. But stripped of its gathering spots — a community is ripe for incivility through anonymity. Regardless how much you disagreed with my neighbor Dick Nutter, when you’re sitting next to each other watching the sun go down over the lake — political ideology seems irrelevant … no matter what.
“Unlike many Western cities, Chengdu does not strictly enforce regulations concerning late-night food and drink. At around 9 p.m., stalls selling barbecue, fried and boiled noodles, fried rice, and in some cases a full Chinese menu pop up on street corners, in front of alleys and underneath overpasses across the city. The stalls serve customers all night, until the sun rises and all that is left are streets and sidewalks strewn with chicken bones and crumpled greasy napkins. Short plastic tables are covered in beer bottles, and the clean-up crews share space with children heading to school. It’s not pretty, but for Chengdu’s 20 million residents, the after-after-party is an absolute necessity.” (Outdoor Midnight Snacking Breaks Down Barriers in a Chinese City)
But we don’t have to go to China to find examples of Front Porches. Every week at Detroit Soup, a group of dedicated volunteers help local artists fulfill their creative ambitions. People turn up, pay $5 at the door, and listen to three or four people pitch an idea to improve the local community. When the presentations are over, the soup is served and people mull over the ideas and vote on their favorite. The winner gets to take home all the money taken at the door and use it to fund their plan, with the promise they will come back three months later to report on their progress. Detroit Soup is a Front Porch that is a conduit for other Front Porches.
On a larger scale is 1 Million Cups. The Kaufman Foundation’s civic off ramp is a free weekly national program designed to educate, engage, and connect entrepreneurs. As of today, they have caffeinated, connected and inspired budding entrepreneurs in 115 communities.
Yeni, Los Koritas And The Cure For Hate
Active Front Porches also breed familiarity … and familiarity is the prescription that cures bigotry, racism, homophobia and hate.
“As Yeni Mora, a 36-year-old from the central coast Mexican state of Nayarit poured coffee, her customers opined about an issue that’s buzzed through talk shows, diners, social media and Montana’s legislative halls, where lawmakers passed several laws targeting illegal immigration. Some of the diners at Los Koritas said “lazy Americans” bear some blame for illegal immigration; others said ranchers and farmers had to hire immigrants without papers because of burdensome work visa programs.
Mora saved enough to take over the one Mexican restaurant in Dillon about three years ago and renamed it Los Koritas, her variation on a name for indigenous people from Nayarit. When the Longhorn Saloon closed two years ago, some customers approached Mora with a request. They no longer had a place to meet in the mornings, they told her. Could she open for breakfast? Mora said of course.
Then one day this fall, as Mora was preparing their orders, George Warner and other diners were holding forth on rule-breakers and the dangers of illegal immigration. They did not know Mora was one of those rule-breakers. Four cups of coffee in, they found out when a reporter, with Mora’s blessing, mentioned that she had entered the country illegally when she crossed into Nogales, Ariz., a decade ago.
The reaction from George’s crew was disbelief.
Yeni? Really? You?” (Talk about illegal immigration spills a revelation )
The story of Yeni Mora and Dillon, Montana is all too common. It’s easy to stereotype and label from a distance. But when that label becomes a real person, stereotypes often dissolve and all but the most hardened haters soften. Here was Yeni, the illegal … who was also the one who provided their community the Front Porch it depended on. But most of all Yeni was their friend. Familiarity breeds acceptance and often friendship. And Front Porches are what make it all happen.
COVID And The New Paradigm
The story of Yeni was pre-COVID. I don’t know if Los Koritas weathered the pandemic and is still open and hosting George’s weekly breakfast crew or not. If the take over of society by social media wasn’t enough, a pandemic that required us to isolate for weeks at a time swallowed our physical lives. Going out to the Front Porch wasn’t happening anymore. We have been robbed of the face-to-face interaction we need to prime our social pumps, otherwise we become isolated, and lonely … and angry.
COVID has subsided, at least for most people. That doesn’t mean the wounds of isolation have healed though. It affects all of us. Our habits and routines have changed, maybe forever. We can’t just regulate away social media, or tell people (mainly young people) to start communicating in person. Many are inept at in-person conversation. For many, online communication is their world. We have to help them with the transition to engaging in real life. If they can’t engage where they physically are, how can we expect them to contribute to saving it.
If you aren’t technically savvy, your isolation risk is very high — and so are the detrimental effects of it. Especially at risk are the elderly. Any reduction in engagement contributes to possible dementia. Outside activities are now required to be intentional if they’re anything other than solitary. Random encounters are few and rarely the objective. Serendipity is a word entire generations will be lost to.
We have the remedy though. House porches and open garages are great, but the our real potential are our existing small businesses, owned by our friends and neighbors, not faceless corporations. What our goal should be is help these small businesses evolve into Front Porches. We need our spaces to interact with each face-to-face and discuss the affairs of our shared community. We’ve let the online world take over this space and the results have left a lot to be desired. Our efforts to help the physical world reclaim its place will go a long way in laying out the future we will inhabit.
Will we be intentional and design one we really want? I hope so.
Please check out more of my musings and whatever else I feel relevant at the moment.