Cohousing-L Mailing List: Porches

[T. Kolney (kolre001]

Porches may not have been added to houses in order to make good neighbors,
but I think they can.  I am reminded of living in row houses in Baltimore
where we had not so much porches but stoops that were used like porches.  It
was pretty common to see everyone come out in the evening and sit on the
stoop, chatting with each other and the neighbors.  Elderly women to this
day bring out frosted glasses so you can't see if they are enjoying ice tea,
bourbon or beer and start gossip.  "Ponies" of beer might have been invented
for this purpose, so prevalent were they -- and a pony of beer fits in a
frosted glass, where a 12-ounce bottle doesn't.  A little deception which
keeps with the avowed morals of the neighborhood, and keeps one from being
the subject of gossip -- an important element of "stoop" culture.

Years after I left Baltimore, I went to visit a friend from the Midwest who
had moved into a row house there.  She had neighbors with whom she was not
on speaking terms -- we'll call them George and Louise -- because they
fought, fretted and f*ed loudly, and all of it came through the thin row
house walls with little problem.  One hot evening I went out to "set a
spell" on the stoop and drink my pony.  Louise was already out on her step,
and she nodded coolly, taking my measure.  I said hello, struck up a
meaningless conversation about the weather and the Orioles.  Louise loosened
up and made companionable small talk.

After we'd chatted awhile I said, "So I understand you like romance novels."
Now, in fact, Louise put a tape of one on every afternoon and blasted us out
of the house with the volume for about an hour.  Louise seemed a little
surprised at my knowing this at first, but quickly put two and two together.
She admitted she did, and listened to one every afternoon in the tub when
she bathed before George got home -- "a girl's got to have something to look
forward to."  She then went on to tell me about the one she'd heard today --
which I also had heard perfectly clearly.  We chatted amiably until she rose
to go make dinner.

When I went inside my friend was already home, having come in through the
backdoor.  She said she was mortified to see me drinking beer with her
"worst enemy".  I asked if she had ever talked to George or Louise.  She had
not, of course, refusing to join in with the "vulgar people drinking beer on
their steps".  (No one did such a thing in the porchless '50s Minnesota home
where she'd grown up.)  I suggest that maybe she try it, that it might help
their problems.  I tried to explain to her the Southern concern with being
thought well of and avoiding being the subject of pernicious gossip.  George
and Louise would probably straighten up if they knew of her concerns.  And,
if gentle hints and neighborly teasing didn't work, and worst came to worst,
she could always record key moments of arguments and other juicy
interactions coming through the wall and play them for a few close friends
on the block.  The word would get back to some friend of G&L, who would take
G&L aside and set them straight.  Stoop justice was far more indirect and
more merciful than civil fights between neighbors.

She never did take my suggestion, but I noticed that for the remainder of my
five weeks there, Louise's afternoon romance tape was only a soft murmur
through the wall.  (She had apparently been setting the volume while running
the bathwater, and not bothering to reset it.)  And I suspect, with a little
better understanding of "stoop culture", my friend could have gotten most
other sounds at the level most of the time,too.  Sometimes stoops can make
good neighbors.