285 Church Avenue - the front porch

In the future, our house would be referred to as just "285". All of my childhood was spent in this row house which by rights of its proximity to other homes, brought it's challenges and delights. We early learned to always consider "What will the neighbor's think?" Piano could only be practiced after 9am and before 9 pm and family arguments were allowed up to a certain decibel.

Evenings and Sundays were spent on the front porch. "Getting to the porch" was sort of a goal that you achieved. As children, we were always free to spend time on the porch either playing "color car" or days of Monopoly. The adults needed to accomplish housework, meals and other obligations before the "reward" of the porch was realized. I remember mom saying, "Now go play so we can get the dishes done or I'll never get on the porch."

During the day the front porch was the meeting place for the women of the neighborhood. It seemed justified to spend long times visiting with "the neighbor lady" as long as it was connected with an activity like bringing the milk in from the Cream Top milk box or paying the baker for the week's bread and lepp cookies. Even the baker or the insurance man would be cause for breaks in work as they would spend time visiting with their patrons.

Saturday AM was the time to wash the car (at the curb of course) and then wash the porch furniture and the porch itself. My favorite memories of washing the car was the trail of sudsy water that would travel curbside down the street. I would follow this until it would eventually dry up in front of a neighbor's house down the street. Watching this river was always a good excuse to get an acceptable distance from home.....1/2 block.

After supper on Saturday night we would sit on the porch as a family either waiting for "company to come" or visiting with neighbors. This could go well into the evening and then one by one, neighbors would say goodnight. I hated this gradual coming to an end of a fun time of listening to the news of the neighborhood.

After church on Sunday, the porch was again the goal to be met before extended family would stop by around 2-3pm. This meant allowing my Dad and Mom to corporately make the Sunday dinner in lightning time by going to our rooms on the third floor and watching the throngs of people exiting the church across the street from 285. From watching this dismissal either from the window or the porch (if we skipped church) we actually came to recognize the "church families" and watch their interaction or change of fashion with the seasons. I remember "the hat lady" as my mother called her since she wore her very large hats with great pride. A wedding at the church made it AOK for neighbors to spend extended time on the porch on any day of the week. Once the bride and groom exited and the rice was thrown, all returned to their day's work.

Visiting on the porch was a parallel experience in the 50's. Neighbors didn't leave their porches and congregate on the porch of another neighbor. Instead, they leaned forward on their chairs and visited verbally over the banister.... at the most sitting on the banister to talk about subjects that weren't to be shared with the "row."

It was a great day in the spring when Dad would put up the awning and get the porch furniture out. We looked forward to this day when the living space of our home would be extended for a few months by the front porch.