HOSPITALITY 2 - Sep 2011
I call them “Catastrophe Neighbors.” They’re the neighbors we see when a catastrophic event -- a blizzard, an earthquake, a hurricane -- strikes. Front doors open, affording a rare glimpse of what is inside, heads poke out like groundhogs, or (if it’s an earthquake) people run out, and lo: neighbors meet neighbors!
I remember the blizzard in February of 2009 because so many of us were faced with digging out cars in the parking lot of our development. Mark and I discovered that we were among the few that actually owned shovels. And being the expert shovelers that we are -- okay, that Mark is -- we were happy to demonstrate technique as well as lend the shovel.
We were delighted to meet and chat with folks during the days we were trapped in our suddenly small lives. Catastrophe brought us together in common shock, amazement, and complaining. Stories were shared, laughter tested, and kindnesses extended. But we were Catastrophe Neighbors, because as soon as the great melt kicked in, we all returned to our busy, intense isolation, and the front doors were closed again.
This August brought out the Catastrophe Neighbors twice in one week, first with the “shake-n- bake” and torrential roar of quaking earth and then with Hurricane Irene. Once again we shared stories, tested laughter, and extended kindnesses. It was a nice side effect of a traumatic week.
I recently attended a neighborhood association meeting where Mark and I live in Del Ray. It was a special meeting with three Alexandria Police Officers who were ready to answer questions about a shooting in our neighborhood on Aug. 3. Someone had set up 12 chairs, but three times that number attended -- another example of Catastrophe Neighbors coming together. The police were very reassuring; they wanted us to know that the shooting wasn’t random, it was friends shooting at each other. They said our area of Alexandria is much safer than the west end. (I’m not sure that made me feel better.)
When I was a child, my family was visited by a Welcome Wagon hostess when we moved into a new house. The company was created in 1928 “to embody (the) spirit of warm hospitality and welcome.” I was five years old, and I remember feeling the essence of hospitality. But Welcome Wagon stopped the home visits in 1998. With so many two-income families, there was usually no one home to receive the hospitality.
Welcome Wagon is now just an advertising and marketing tool -- but we still need that spirit of warm hospitality. I’m thinking of inviting our neighbors to a Non-Catastrophe event.
And of course another way to feel that warm spirit is to be part of a welcoming church -- like ours.
With love,
Kate Walker
We were delighted to meet and chat with folks during the days we were trapped in our suddenly small lives. Catastrophe brought us together in common shock, amazement, and complaining. Stories were shared, laughter tested, and kindnesses extended. But we were Catastrophe Neighbors, because as soon as the great melt kicked in, we all returned to our busy, intense isolation, and the front doors were closed again.
This August brought out the Catastrophe Neighbors twice in one week, first with the “shake-n- bake” and torrential roar of quaking earth and then with Hurricane Irene. Once again we shared stories, tested laughter, and extended kindnesses. It was a nice side effect of a traumatic week.
I recently attended a neighborhood association meeting where Mark and I live in Del Ray. It was a special meeting with three Alexandria Police Officers who were ready to answer questions about a shooting in our neighborhood on Aug. 3. Someone had set up 12 chairs, but three times that number attended -- another example of Catastrophe Neighbors coming together. The police were very reassuring; they wanted us to know that the shooting wasn’t random, it was friends shooting at each other. They said our area of Alexandria is much safer than the west end. (I’m not sure that made me feel better.)
When I was a child, my family was visited by a Welcome Wagon hostess when we moved into a new house. The company was created in 1928 “to embody (the) spirit of warm hospitality and welcome.” I was five years old, and I remember feeling the essence of hospitality. But Welcome Wagon stopped the home visits in 1998. With so many two-income families, there was usually no one home to receive the hospitality.
Welcome Wagon is now just an advertising and marketing tool -- but we still need that spirit of warm hospitality. I’m thinking of inviting our neighbors to a Non-Catastrophe event.
And of course another way to feel that warm spirit is to be part of a welcoming church -- like ours.
With love,
Kate Walker
