Folks from the southern part of the USA love their porches. If you find a home in the south that was built without a porch the odds are 10-1 it was constructed by a northerner. Maybe we love them so much because they’re hallowed remnants from the long hot summers we had before air conditioning and television came along. Or, maybe they’re from our love of hospitality, good company and storytelling.
Riding my old 1973 BMW through northwest Georgia these last few weeks I decided to concentrate on porches, just porches. The first thing I noticed is that folks are not out on them as much as they used to be. Only twice did I see people sitting out on their porches. Maybe they’re lured inside by the attraction of air-conditioning and taped episodes of shows like Game of Thrones. It is still hot here in Georgia in these waning days of August, so I can understand this decision. But even so, you can’t beat the feeling of a cool breeze under a shady porch, maybe with a whiff of jasmine in the air. Out on the porch it’s easier to let go of your worries and connect with the simplicity of the past.
So while I rode, when I could take my eyes of the road, I perused what was perched on porches.
There were the typical porches with swinging benches, rocking chairs and gliders. Others had stiff plastic chairs that folks had probably gotten from a dollar store within walking distance away. I remember riding past one house a few times that contained a solitary chair on the porch. What must have happened to someone that resulted in their choosing to have only one chair on the porch? A variety of existential possibilities came to mind and none of them were happy ones. Some porches had old sofas and reclining chairs. Most had coffee tables. Many had blooming plants in clay pots, others had hanging baskets. A few had wind chimes. Some had overhead ceiling fans just in case mother nature needed a boost. Many had flags proclaiming loyalty to some college, country or cause. Other porches had expanded beyond their original functions and contained barbecue grills, refrigerators and personal gyms. One had multicolored clothes drying on a line and children’s toys, scattered around like old memories. Twice I saw small statues of St Francis of Assisi.
I remember two quotes attributed to him:
Preach the Gospel at all times and when necessary use words.
I have been all things unholy. If God can work through me, He can work through anyone.
Great words to keep in mind in these divisive times. But it won’t do any good just sitting inside chewing on them.
Go on out on the porch, drag out another chair, fix some iced tea and invite someone to sit down and have a chat. Then, just feel that healing breeze.