Anyone Want Some Lemon Tart?

Last night we got an email from a neighbor saying that they had made a big lemon tart and they had too much leftover. If anyone wanted some, bring a plate and come by before 9:00. I read my messages too late or I would have been down there with a clean plate, for sure.

There was another message yesterday afternoon from the newest neighbor, asking someone to water his tomato plants. It was done within minutes.

And an announcement from a recent college graduate, just home for a bit, letting us know they were setting up a movie in the Swale Theater and they would select the movie soon -- showtime was in 20 minutes.

Today we got a haiku from another new neighbor who couldn't find the lawn mower.  And he got a haiku in return, almost immediately.

In spite of all the best efforts of the techies in this community, we still communicate by email here.  They have set up online calendars and WhatsApp and message boards, but since we built this place in the time of email, that is who we are.  We have had to make some rules about what is appropriate, and all of those examples meet the requirements. We are not allowed to discuss issues of substance and we certainly are not allowed to be rude. It has taken some time and experience to be good email neighbors.

We have lived here at Blueberry Hill for a full 20 years now.  When we first moved in, it was pretty exciting.  We had spent a few years getting to know each other through a steady stream of meetings and potlucks and it was just amazing to be in one place together, living the dream.

A lot has changed in 20 years, but it is still amazing to live in a place that has so many homegrown traditions by now. Some of us feel like things have gone downhill and there is no way to re-capture what we had because the good old days are gone. Half of the original residents have moved by now. Others of us still believe in the dream and are willing to go with the unexpected downs and ups that are part of living with people.

The part that is disappointing is the number of houses that are occupied by people who do not really care that they live in a cohousing community.  Some of the people who sold their houses sold them to people who didn't even pay attention to the documents, and they have filled their houses with renters. We did not anticipate this, so we didn't make any rules to prevent it. We do our best to include these people in everything, inviting them to dinner, inviting them to meetings and workdays, but they really just don't care. It is hard not to be bitter about this, that we put so much effort into building an intentional community and we didn't imagine that people with different intentions (a desire for a good location and relatively inexpensive housing) would just move right into the middle of all this.  We have always had renters, trying to include people with different amounts of wealth, and the first renters were completely involved in everything. Many of the current renters are almost nameless, although they are on the email list and get the same invitations to have some lemon tart for dessert.

Anyway, all is not lost. On Memorial Day the whole community played together all day long, thanks to the momentum of tradition. One of the engaged renters of the present had introduced the idea of mini golf last year -- and this quickly became a goofy shared pastime.  The most motivated neighbors designed complex and entertaining holes using plumbing and croquet sets and steep hills and wind chimes.  People went from one yard to the next with their makeshift golf clubs.  Then that afternoon we had the annual recital which I have described before. It continues to be a well-attended event, focused on the performances of the youngest neighbors (lots of dancing, piano, some jokes) and I usually play the piano pieces that I have learned for my own adult recital that is around this time.  After that there was the all-community picnic where we each brought food to share and something to cook on the grill.  The weather was perfect after a weekend of cold rain.  

We got through the sad year of covid and it was hard. We had eaten together in the Common House at least twice a week for 19 years, and suddenly we couldn't cook or hang out together indoors. We did see each other outdoors but the effort of cooking and serving a meal outdoors overwhelmed us in the winter. There was a diehard, sturdy group that met every single evening on the greenway for Happy Hour, rain or shine, snow or sun all through spring, summer and winter. The group got small but it persevered. I fell off the wagon in the middle of summer when 6:00 was still the middle of the workday and I never got back into it, but I could hear the voices and the laughter every evening.

Our meetings were on Zoom.  In some ways it was better because more people attended and of course in some ways it just wasn't as good. But in recent months we have started to have common meals again and we are so glad to be together in person again. Everyone is vaccinated. It is so nice.

I remember the voices of the skeptics when we first built Blueberry Hill.  They were older and wiser and they had seen dreams come and go. But I think we have managed because we don't have so many rules, and we don't try to maintain something that isn't natural to us.  We just keep having meetings, building traditions, learning more about each other, eating together a lot, and singing some songs that we have learned over the years. Even though there are houses that are occupied by some uninterested folks, it is not hard to keep the dream alive.  Yesterday there was a BBH grandchild playing in a sprinkler in the shade, watched over by her doting grandfather and almost-grandmother (the grandparents will marry soon). Everyone knows the child's name, everyone knows the grandparents, and everyone knows the boy who grew up here and is now a father.  That is what happens when people spend years living in the same neighborhood, intentional community or not.  

I believe that we will still be a successful cohousing community, even another generation from now. It might not be just like this, but it will be something special. I know this because there are so many new people who live here who are part of building the traditions, and they have the little kids now. Those little kids are growing up in cohousing just like our kids did, and they are the craziest source of joy there is.  They climb trees and wear costumes and play instruments and ride bikes and dance with abandon, and they live in a cohousing community.  

All may not be well with the world, and perhaps there was never a time when all was well. But Blueberry Hill is doing a good job of keeping its part of the world functioning, with lemon tarts and sprinklers and decision making by consensus. This train is chugging along, in spite of the hazards along the way.