Do you ever sit out on your front porch and just watch the world go by? When I was growing up, porch sittin’ was an art almost everybody enjoyed. It was a great “intergenerational” activity. That’s a new buzz word we never heard of back then. It means the old folks sat on the porch right along with everybody else.
You hear a lot now days about how families should eat dinner together and talk. Well, of course, we ate dinner together. Where else would you eat? But I don’t remember much talking during meals, beyond “Pass the taters,” or “Quit playing with your food and Eat!” We did our talking on the front porch, especially during long summer evenings. We talked to each other and to whoever came wandering by.
Daddy would lean forward in his old rocker and holler, “Hey, Bill, how’s it goin?” And Bill, recognizing the implied invitation, would cross the yard to lean on the porch railing, or sit on the steps. He might stay thirty minutes, or an hour, swapping news and commiserations, maybe bumming a cigarette or a roll-your-own. Two men on a porch talking often attracted others, and the stories and laughter would last until deep twilight, when everybody went into their own house and got ready for bed.