From the Shorter Oxford English Dictionary, Sixth Edition: “Community- 7; social intercourse; communion; fellowship, sense of common identity.’
I am a tenor voice in Harmony Collected, a choral group organized by the Irvington Arts Collective. Dr. Webb Parker, the founding artistic and executive director of the group, will often have the gathered members do exercises that he calls “making community.” We have been encouraged to name a favorite activity or share with the group something that might not be known about ourselves; to introduce ourselves to the person next to us. As the current singing season neared an end, Webb had a party at his house for the choral members, and there was an impromptu session of singing around one of the several pianos in his house. We made community. I had not heard the term “community” used in the way that Webb applied it, but I understand it now, and recognize it in use in my life.
On the street where I live, I have placed water bowls on the side lawn of the house I rent. The bowls are for the nine thousand, five hundred dogs that lead their caretakers past my corner. I have a log of dogs — a notebook recording the names of the canines — for my youngest granddaughter must “pet that dawg.” I saw one dog-owner in a restaurant one day, and when I could not remember her name, she told me that she was “Zola’s mom.” I remembered that great beauty, a Bernese Mountain Dog, (Zola is short for “Gogonzola”) and Mom’s shock when, after petting her dog, my granddaughter gave her an impulsive hug. When mean-spirited people steal my bowls, I get new ones, and carry on. One anonymous member of the community left a set of bowls for me, when I posted of the theft on a social media site. I still do not know who that generous spirit was, but I still have the bowls as a back-up to the latest banditry.
One recent day, I was sitting on my front porch, watching the passage of bikers and hikers and walkers. A couple passing by called out to me by name. I wondered how they knew me, and they told me that they read my column in this publication. I invited them to sit on the porch with me, and we talked, shared stories, and made community. I gave them the current issue of The Weekly View, and they went on their way. I was happy to have had those moments with them, to have made community.
I have been lucky in the making of community. When I moved from California to Indiana in 1978, a racist group left their calling card under my windshield wiper: “Racial purity is America’s security.” I walked the grounds of the apartment complex and found another card, on the windshield of another African American family. That greeting did not discourage me, and I made good friends in New Albany, Clarksville and Jeffersonville, Indiana, not all of whom shared my cultural heritage. My family was included in the “rotating dinners,” where a series of homes would each host a portion of a dinner. The families would walk from house to house, eating, drinking, and making community.
T he Heartland International Film Festival will present the “Indy Shorts Film Festival,” July 21st – 26th. One of the films in the line-up is “Community,” on Wednesday, July 22nd, and Friday, July 24th. The description of the film is that it is “Stories of belonging and self-discovery … in (a) celebration of community.”
I understand it now, Webb. Thanks, for sharing.
cjon3acd@att.net