Front porch preaching

Is it just me or is southern living changing?

Maybe it is just me, but for some reason I’m not seeing that southern spirit that hung over this area for so long.

Maybe it’s the fact that my grandparents’ generation is fading or maybe it’s the fact that the world is changing, but I feel like southern living isn’t what it used to be.

It doesn’t seem like so long ago that my grandparents would gather at the end of every long day, pour up some tall glasses of iced tea, and sit out in the waning sun surrounded by silence.

That wasn’t that long ago.

You don’t see those front porch congregations anymore. You don’t see that friendliness anymore.

When I’m out in my car, I glance at the passing houses and it just seems to me that the front porch is underutilized.

It’s more of a fixture than an object of use.

The other day, I pulled into my parents’ drive and my grandmother, who lives next door, was sitting out on the front porch with her neighbor, “Ms. Ruth.”

It was something that most wouldn’t think special, but for me it was touching sight to see my Nanny Jean out on the front porch.

It brought back so many memories and senses. I immediately snapped back to a spring night in the early 1990’s.

I saw glances of red chairs with flowered cushions. I saw my Papa Ed in that brown sweater he’d wear until the sweat of summer overwhelmed him. My mom sat in the swing beneath our shade tree with our neighbor, “Ms. Peachy.” My dad was sitting on the front porch steps.

My Nanny Jean was coming out of the house carrying Dixie cups filled with iced tea.

And there I was, a little tyke, running around trying to catch fireflies in a mason jar.

To me, that’s what southern living is all about. It’s about sitting out on the front porch, enjoying family and friends, and better yet, enjoying the world we live in.

My Papa Buck was a man who understood that. With the exception of a baseball game here and there, he wasn’t interested in television such as Jerry Springer or Oprah Winfrey.

Instead he spent his long summer days out on the front porch in his rocking chair, counting cars and waving at friends.

It came to be expected that my Papa Buck was going to be out on that porch. It’s as if you prepared yourself to blow the horn as you drove by long before you got to his house.

My Papa Buck and my Nanny Ophelia loved that front porch.

In my mind, the front porch was a symbol.

It was a symbol of a world that was simplistic. It was a time when the world revolved around the little piece of the world that surrounded you, not Iraq or Iran.

That wasn’t to say that those front porch dwellers weren’t patriotic, because they loved the flag and the country more than people today do, I believe.

The front porch, to my grandparents, meant freedom. I believe that with all my heart. These people worked hard for that small piece of the world that they lived on and in.

Their blood, sweat, and tears were on that front porch. It was their window to the world they wanted to see. The front porch symbolized friendship and love.

There was nothing sweeter than congregating and chatting with neighbors and friends. It was a way to stay connected to the world around you instead of being desensitized by the destruction and violence that was seen all over the news.

The front porch meant family. The front porch meant friendship. The front porch brought you face to face with Mother Nature.

In some cases, it brought you face to face with God, as the ministers from our churches would come by and sit out enjoying the neighborhood, hoping to bring some more souls into church.

Those were the days that you knew everyone around you.

Somehow, I think all that’s lost and I’m jealous.

My grandparents had something special that I can’t just seem to find. They had the ability to sit and enjoy life without doing a thing.

I have yet to find that peace.

My generation is surrounded by television, movies, games, and so many other things that are designed to occupy our time.

I can’t for the life of me just sit and watch the world turn. I can’t sit and enjoy the world that God has created for us.

Why can’t I enjoy my window to God’s world?

The world has taught me otherwise. The world that grabbed my brain taught me that it’s better to be stressed out and busy rather than just settling back and relaxing.

Somehow, some way I want to find a way to change that mentality.

My world can’t be that different than that of my grandparents. Sure… life was just simpler then, or was it?

Has life gotten more complicated or have we just complicated life?

Maybe southern living hasn’t changed. Maybe we are the ones changing.

My grandfathers were content with the life they led. They weren’t caught up in the hustle and bustle and they weren’t caught up in the dollar.

Maybe that’s the problem.

Maybe we should all step out onto our front porches and look at the world the way our parents and our grandparents did.

Maybe we should all just stop in, breathe in the air around us, rock in a chair, and watch as the sun fades and the moon rises.

It might give us a different perspective on the world around us. It might slow us down, help us appreciate the gifts we already have, and it just might put a smile on our face.

Lord knows, it put one on the faces of my grandparents for many years. There’s some kind of magic on the front porch and maybe we just need to let it work on us.

Country singer Tracy Lawrence probably said it best in his song “If the World Had a Front Porch.”

He said:
“If the world had a front porch like we did back then
We’d still have our problems but we’d all be friends
Treating your neighbor like he’s your next of kin
Wouldn’t be gone with the wind
If the world had a front porch, like we did back then.”