We get a lot of annoying pieces of paper shoved through our mail slots every day and I’m not just talking about the regular mail.
A lot of it we don’t open right away because we know it is not going to cheer us up, maybe it will even create more work for us. It can sit for a few days, maybe it will go away.
We also receive flyers advertising church services, bottle drives, tree chipping or deals on pizzas. But a few weeks ago a sheet of paper caught my eye.
In large coloured letters festooned with balloons the flyer announced a ‘Labor Day Neighbourhood Potluck Block Party.’ The host families, two of my neighbours, were providing the burgers and beverages and we were asked to bring, salads, desserts, or favorite casserole.
‘Show up — Everyone Welcome!’
The day started out a bit cloudy but once in a while I peeked around my drapes and saw tables and chairs being set up, canopies and awnings appearing and barbecues were rattling and trundling down the drive way. This looked like it was really going to happen.
The sky cleared right at four and the people started arriving. We were given a name tag and instructed to put our first name and our house number on it. We all looked a bit like convicts but it was a great way to find out who lived where.
“Oh you’re the guy with the big truck,” or “You’re the people who just did all the renovations” or “You have the big oak tree.” Suddenly, strangers had names and we found out where they worked, where they had moved from and soon we were finding out as much about the people that lived next door as we knew about the Facebook people that lived hundreds of miles away.
It’s just about back to school time and the kids discuss schools and teachers and a few of us who have been on the block 22 years or more remark how the kids have grown and gone and now the ones who were little when we moved in now return to Grandpa and Grandma with their babies.
There are over 70 people there and most of the homes on the street are represented. People across the road don’t appear to be home. The reason for their absence is soon evident as they arrive home with a new baby girl, born only six hours earlier.
Of course all the mothers have to go over and have a look while the guys just give Dad a thumb’s up and congratulate him on a job well done.
We are there until it gets dark and then the party starts to break up. We are told to take our leftovers home. I brought a salad but try to trade it for the amazing leftover carrot cake but I can’t make a deal.
But we’re all taking home so much more than we brought.
There is a sense of community and of safety.
Now we wave as we pass on the street or walk by with the dogs. All it took was a couple of ladies to say, “Why not, let’s invite everyone.”
I hope I’m here 22 years from now when that newborn little girl brings home her baby to show Mom and Dad. I’d like to tell her I was there to welcome her to our neighbourhood.
At least that’s what McGregor says.
