When the prospective new neighbor who first showed us our home for our out-of-town landlord walked us around the "village" to meet the neighbors, then had us over for a cup of tea, we probably should have known this would not be a typical neighborhood.
The Village, as I'll call it to maintain its privacy, is something else. After that first meeting, we felt fairly certain we had been interviewed. Though the farthest cry from a "planned community," one like this does not happen entirely by accident. It takes a certain kind of person, I think, to want to live in a 130-year-old house. One week in, we received a brochure in our mailbox (with no postage) describing the Architectural Committee guidelines (one of the perks of renting: no need to worry about such things!). Not everyone would want to deal with the trouble and expense of taking this kind of care to preserve the historical integrity of a home or a community. What I've seen of our community thus far is diverse, but not like you'd think. Not the way my high school was, which was racially, mostly. Though there is some of that brand of diversity, this is different. There is a variety of ages: young families, retired singles and couples, and everything in between. The Village definitely leans to the left, but even in that there seems to be room for variance. I guess that sums it up: There is acceptance, and there is room for differences.
The Village, as I'll call it to maintain its privacy, is something else. After that first meeting, we felt fairly certain we had been interviewed. Though the farthest cry from a "planned community," one like this does not happen entirely by accident. It takes a certain kind of person, I think, to want to live in a 130-year-old house. One week in, we received a brochure in our mailbox (with no postage) describing the Architectural Committee guidelines (one of the perks of renting: no need to worry about such things!). Not everyone would want to deal with the trouble and expense of taking this kind of care to preserve the historical integrity of a home or a community. What I've seen of our community thus far is diverse, but not like you'd think. Not the way my high school was, which was racially, mostly. Though there is some of that brand of diversity, this is different. There is a variety of ages: young families, retired singles and couples, and everything in between. The Village definitely leans to the left, but even in that there seems to be room for variance. I guess that sums it up: There is acceptance, and there is room for differences.
We moved in early so we would not disrupt and so we could participate in the annual Fourth of July festivities, which this year featured 5 days of Alice in Wonderland themed revelry. We did not even participate in half, only making it to the children's activities, the dinner dance, and the parade. Mirabella sprayed a fire hose, created a "Heart of Queens" costume that netted her a prize in the following day's parade, then danced the night away before watching fireworks that were both extremely loud and incredibly close. We were warmly greeted and happy for activities to take our attention away from our far less walkable surroundings as we settled in.
The Village is web savvy and uber connected. I am already part of its Google Listserv and a Facebook group; I am accustomed to this type of "community." But a week later, we were taken aback as we cleaned the house to prepare for 10 days of company and a neighbor stood on our porch with his granddaughter. She and Mirabella had hit it off at the pre-move-in cookout, so she had come to play with Mirabella. She stayed for an hour and explored our toy room, and everyone had a good time. Daniel and I stood in the kitchen, unsure of what to think. This had never happened to us before. Playdates usually require weeks of pre-planning and a barrage of e-mails.
The Village is web savvy and uber connected. I am already part of its Google Listserv and a Facebook group; I am accustomed to this type of "community." But a week later, we were taken aback as we cleaned the house to prepare for 10 days of company and a neighbor stood on our porch with his granddaughter. She and Mirabella had hit it off at the pre-move-in cookout, so she had come to play with Mirabella. She stayed for an hour and explored our toy room, and everyone had a good time. Daniel and I stood in the kitchen, unsure of what to think. This had never happened to us before. Playdates usually require weeks of pre-planning and a barrage of e-mails.
"I think this is what neighbors do," Daniel said.
"Oh, right," I agreed. "This is what we wanted."
We've since had additional visits by more neighbors, and several more playdates. Our downtown daughters don't know what hit them, but they know better than to question a good thing.
"Oh, right," I agreed. "This is what we wanted."
We've since had additional visits by more neighbors, and several more playdates. Our downtown daughters don't know what hit them, but they know better than to question a good thing.
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