[I published this article in The Bells of St. James, the parish newsletter. While I never mention my Aunt Blanche and Uncle Jack in the article, most of these memories come from their legendary Monday night dinners. These were open houses for anyone in town who RSVP'd - old folks, young parents, adult friends, toddlers, cousins, eight kids and their friends... Read more about Aunt Blanche.]
For me, it brings memories. We kids would tumble out of doors after supper to play games in neighbors' yards in twilight, while young parents stood back watching and chatting with each other and with elders. The older kids would lead the younger ones in friendly games of tag or catch.
I remember how good it felt to be watched by people of different generations. To me, the 12-to-16-year-olds were celebrities. I was amazed when adults who were neither my parents nor my teachers showed interest in me and my dreams. I remember how they made me feel accepted and important, and, sixty years later, I'm grateful.
I can guess that my parents were grateful, too, for time off from me, and time to talk with other grown ups with no agenda, no pressure.
If you remember such evening times in neighborhoods -- if you even remember neighborhoods! -- then I invite readers of different generations to join us Wednesdays at St. James and make that kind of experience available again.
