Laugh as much as you breathe and love as long as you live.
-- Author unknown
I have a new front porch; a place other than the one attached to my house. That one is small. A couple of flowerpots sit on it and three steps lead down to the walkway.
My new porch is much more expansive. It's long, fully decorated and inviting. I can interact with a lot of people, some of whom I know, others I don't. I like it.
My wife, Sarah, likes porches. Her favorite one is located in Gaffney, S.C., her home. It is attached to the house where she grew up on Hetty Hill Street. It has an old, long, green and white swinging chair on it and a separate side chair for the comfort of all who want to sit, talk and watch the action as it comes and goes, up and down the street. Ahh, if porches could talk.
During our leisure Sunday afternoon ride around the community, on the way to the park or the ice-cream parlor, we pass various porches of different sizes; some are decorated, some not. It's the commentary that is interesting as we look from side to side, providing our porch-by-porch analysis.
"When are you going to write about porches?" Sarah has asked on more than one occasion. More specifically, front porches. They have a special kind of appeal.
Many of us have gotten used to sitting on our patios, out back where we look at our neighbor's house, the backyard, or do whatever we do, with some privacy. That's where I am now, writing this column, drinking some sweet iced tea, smoking a cigar and listening to music. Front porches are a little different. There is much more action and engagement, and they are public.
"Now that's a good porch," my wife says. She is the expert.
"Look at that one," I say.
"That could be a good porch," she responds.
A good porch depends on your perspective. Sometimes it is the location of the porch -- a lot of traffic passes by and it is well positioned to take in all the activity. It might wrap around the house, taking in multiple angles, for example. At other times, it is the size -- large enough for more than one person, chairs situated to see what is going on and to enjoy the day. Some are screened in; others are open. Some are decorated; others plain, and a few are bare. A good porch with nothing on it is a shame.
Now, my new porch, the one not attached to my house, has a little character. I settled on it a couple of weeks ago, on a Friday evening. My wife and I were sitting on a black wrought-iron bench, watching people walk by, a jazz trio playing across the street from us. A couple walked by after dinner and an hour or so later we were still talking, caught up in catching up.
A few days later, on a Tuesday evening, we were back on another section of the front porch. Another interesting conversation with a different set of people, another good cigar, frozen custard this time. It was a great feeling to sit out and observe the life of the city on a weeknight.
That is when I decided this was our new front porch. During the week of the National Black Theatre Festival, we were able to check out the happenings from the comfort of the front porch on Fourth Street, between the fitness center, across the street from the Stevens Center and the restaurants at the end of the block.
"Hey, what's up?" I asked as a car passed, window down. Another group -- visitors to the city -- was going the wrong way, looking for a restaurant.
"You need some help?" I asked, pointing in the direction they needed to travel to their destination. "I saw you last night, sitting downtown," a friend said.
By the time you read this, I will have spent a little more time there, talking about performances, seeing old friends, watching visitors enjoy the city and enjoying this public space. Wave, or stop by and talk, if you are in the neighborhood.
It's a good spot, this new front porch. I like it.
Nigel Alston is a Dale Carnegie trainer and motivational speaker who lives in Winston-Salem. He can be reached at nalston1@triad.rr.com
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