For over 22 years, my husband and I have lived in Southside Park Cohousing Community in
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| some other cohousing community almost as beautiful as mine |
downtown Sacramento. We moved in when our children were one and two. They’re now all grown up and living elsewhere on their own. We’re still there.
Cohousing is a concept imported from Denmark about 30 years ago to this country by a couple of American architects. The architecture facilitates the kind of community old-fashioned neighborhoods used to naturally have, where neighbors know each other, look after each other’s children and share information and resources. The typical cohousing community is designed with about 25 households with shared backyards and a “common house” (or clubhouse) on the same piece of land. While each family has its own normal house, certain other resources, such as workshops, gardening equipment, recycling, etc. are shared and, typically, there are “common meals” offered in the common house a few times a week. To learn more about cohousing go to www.cohousing.org.
The other day, apropos of nothing, I was reflecting on how much I’ve come to love my neighbors over the years. Sometimes I even like them. Although more and more I don’t really care if I like them, I just love them. Early on some of the people drove me nuts with their personality quirks and foibles (just as I’m sure, I have worked some people’s last nerve at times). Over the years, those people have not necessarily changed, and I haven’t really stopped noticing their idiosyncrasies. I have grown to love them in spite of and because of how they are. They do what they do while inwardly I will roll my eyes and think, “oh, that’s so and so, that’s what they do,” but there is really nothing I wouldn’t do for these people.
I think this is probably always the natural trajectory of real human community. In old-fashioned small towns or churches people live for years side by side with others who have all sorts of quirks. These communities might tolerate all sorts of gossip, judgment and privacy invasions alongside loving action. If that weird guy who lives ten miles out of town needs some help building a new fence, everyone goes over to build the fence. If someone’s spouse died, everyone comes with a covered dish. Like that.
I saw this in action here several years ago one when one woman, I’ll call her Lulu, frequently publicly disagreed with another woman, I’ll call her Mable. Whether in meetings or on email, Lulu clearly resented, judged and pushed against Mable. This went on for years. Eventually Mable, who was perhaps the eldest of the community, got terminally ill and chose to die in place with support from the community. For weeks if not months there were various opportunities available to support Mable with this process. As I recall, Lulu, despite her antipathy, signed up for a job that required being over there every single day helping Mable with the most distasteful task imaginable (I won’t tell you what it is).
We are used to these kinds of stories in families. Many of us end up nursing or supporting relatives that have not historically been easy for us to forgive or be around. Yet it’s not typically a scenario contemplated with our neighbors. In organized community, it turns out, it is also possible to love support and care for others without liking them one darn bit.