My neighbor stopped by to invite me to join the neighborhood crime watch. She gave me a brief explanation of the nature of the organization, and I agreed to become a member. Shortly after her initial visit, she returned with a printed flier announcing a block party in conjunction with “National Night Out,” on Tuesday, August 2nd. The flier noted that it was “time to chat it up” with my neighbors and urged me to bring some food and a chair to the gathering.
On the evening of the event, I ambled down the street toward the hosting house; my neighbor strode beside me, carrying a large glass container which contained a swimming horde of pickled cucumbers. The cucumbers were bounty harvested from my neighbor’s garden. My potluck offering was mustard potato salad, which I had harvested from my neighborhood Meijer. At the meeting place there were tables laden (I love “laden”) with offerings from the attendees. Chairs were clustered in a rough semi-circle within the shade of a maple tree, some of the chairs were weighted with the bodies of my neighbors. I placed my offering on the table with the rest of the food, assembled my camp chair and sat to chat. The host invited us to introduce ourselves and give an example of our favorite part of summer that began with the first letter of our names. Ever the show-off, my summer favorite that began with “C” was cucumbers, in honor of my neighbor. The game continued around the semi-circle, with some having a difficult time; the first letter of some names did not immediately call to mind a summer delight.
In keeping with the tradition of the “night out” — which occurred between 6 and 8 p.m., when there was no night to be seen — several police vehicles stopped by the group of people gathered beneath the maple. Officers Javon Lipscomb and Austin Hedden were the first on the people/food scene and both had comfortable conversations with the attendees. Later in the evening, Stacey and Roman stopped by, though both claimed to be too full to scarf up our grub.
National Night Out has its origins as a community-building campaign that “promotes partnerships and neighborhood camaraderie,” with the objective of creating safer communities. In 1981, the National Association of Town Watch was founded, and in 1984, introduced the National Night Out campaign. While the idea of being watchful for criminal activity was implied, the subject never came up and the officers and the neighbors chatted in comfort. And the neighbors ate serious amounts of food.
The evening was reminiscent of my time in Southern Indiana, where the small subdivision I lived in would have progressive dinners. Each participant would sign up for some part of a multi-course dinner and the group would travel from house to house. One house would have hors d’oeuvres, the next salad, the third aperitifs, the next a main course, and the last, desserts. At each of the stops there were alcoholic offerings, but the houses were clustered on one street and were less than a half-block apart, so driving was not necessary. But I did get to know my neighbors, and when my dog barked one night, I alerted my next-door neighbor to the bandits who were about to steal his car from his open garage.
As is my wont, I sang a song as I left the gathering, my camp chair slung across my back and in my hands, the two bright bowls that had the remnants of my “homemade” potato salad. It was for me, a good night out.
cjon3acd@att.net