As I went for a walk with my son today, I was reminded of the lyrics to an old children’s song, “Who are the people in your neighborhood?” The truth is, I don’t really know most of them. I live in a neighborhood with hundreds of single-family homes, three swimming pools, a volleyball court, tennis courts, a lake, and several parks — but where are all the people?
Drake and I often frequent one of the neighborhood playgrounds on beautiful days like today, but we almost never see anyone there. It’s a little sad, I think. Whatever happened to people swinging on their front porches on a lovely Spring day, chatting with the neighbors or inviting them over for lemonade?
Or maybe that’s a memory from some old sitcom. It does seem kind of black and white when I replay it in my head.
I know I’m a child of the TV and video game generation and I’m supposed to like it inside, in the air conditioning, watching the “boob tube” (as my mom used to call it) and IMing friends I only know over cyberspace, but I prefer flesh and blood to pixels.
Tomorrow is supposed to be another beautiful day. Why don’t we meet at the playground?