 Photo: Etsy After long years of intense study, a student bursts into Einstein’s office shouting, “Sir, sir, I finally get it. I understand your theory of relativity!” Einstein rolls his eyes. “It’s about time.” As this joke demonstrates, there are some ideas so huge we’ll all be talking about them forever — so we might as well have some fun with them.  Great ideas can arise anywhere. Tram rides inspired Einstein’s theories of relativity, the spacetime continuum, time distortion, and a lot of other stuff that's way above my pay grade. Newton’s aha! moment came watching an apple. Paul Revere’s midnight ride, the Boston Tea Party, and many of the other liveliest moments of the American Revolution were plotted over tankards of ale in the Green Dragon Tavern in Boston’s North End. Sadly, the Green Dragon was torn down in 1832 to make way for a warehouse, but the fine tradition of gathering in public places to exchange ideas with congenial companions lives on. Two weeks ago I wrote about John Crowley’s Aqus Café, where since 2006 people have met up to discuss everything from poetry to art to the future of the human race. One of John’s most compelling projects is Petaluma Conversations, launched a couple of years ago to bring together citizens entrenched on opposing sides in the fierce online battle over the city’s hottest controversy: flying bathtubs.  Fine Balance by Brian Goggin cost the citizens of Petaluma $150,000 and many hours of hotheaded debate about its merits. The official name was “Fine Balance,” a reference to the precarious relationship between humans and nature. Some hailed it as a masterpiece, others considered it a load of pretentious nonsense. I got the impression that only compassion for the fish community prevented the naysayers from ripping the piece bodily out of the earth and tossing it into the nearby river. Somehow John got ringleaders from both sides into a room, with strict rules of conduct and promises to listen. By the end of the night they were civil, some even cordial. And Petaluma Conversations was born. That group's format was a bit formal, according to Donna Benedetti's way of thinking. Holding advanced degrees in philosophy, she’d taught at the university level and given lessons to kids in San Francisco’s notorious Tenderloin district. She’d also worked as administrator for street-savvy nonprofits. Donna wanted something more conversational and thought-provoking. With the help of a small steering committee of supportive friends, Donna created the Watershed Community. John called it “an ideas club. It’s like a book club, only instead of books, you discuss ideas. They send out a few magazine articles to read, and you all get together and talk about them.”  Donna Benedetti sends links to articles, podcasts, and videos to serve as a starting point for conversations. Watershed Community sounded brilliant to me. In fact, I liked it so much that, as a service to my readers, I decided to attend the very next one, which took place last Saturday night. Rich and I arrived at Aqus moments before Donna rushed in, a huge tote bag over each arm. Pretty soon I was helping her give nametags to the 18 people attending while Rich set reserved signs on small tables at one end of the café. To my surprise, we didn’t shove all the tables together. “The first one, we were all at a long table,” Donna told me later. “But it was terrible.” With full proximity, everyone chatted with everyone else, making it impossible to have sustained conversations. Now she has four or five people gather at each small table, with a scribe to takes notes, and a member of the steering committee to provide conversational prompts if needed.  Donna opened the evening with a brief welcome then said, “Karen is a blogger who has been writing about hope and storytelling, the topics of our last two gatherings. I’ve asked her to say a few words about that.” I stood up and told them that in normal times I’m a travel writer. But as we all know, these are not normal times. I have set aside my usual themes to spend the summer interviewing people who are doing kind, compassionate work in our community; it’s been a comforting reminder that there is still plenty of good in this world, and it is worth fighting for. Then I confessed that I was there to steal Donna’s concept and start an Ideas Club in my own town of San Anselmo. That prompted a round of cheerful applause, and it seemed a good moment to sit down and stop talking.  The Watershed Community The evening’s topic was immigration. Discussion touched on the founding of this nation, the economics of migrant workers, the role of race in society, the power of the people, the need for a coherent immigration policy, and how every one of us came from immigrant families, who often had passed along to us their stories of struggle and finding their place in America. It was a lively discussion, and Donna told me later that it was the best conversation to date, because it was a more substantive and timely topic. We galloped along, sharing information and perspectives, each new thought triggering another line of discussion. At the end, each table’s scribe stood and read their notes aloud.  A neighbor who enjoys honoring his heritage I was impressed with the range and depth of the comments, the variety of the participants' backgrounds, and the commitment to the community. It brought to mind a quick, casual conversation I'd had the day before with a neighbor who said she felt lucky to make the San Francisco Bay Area her home. Then as she headed off, she tossed over her shoulder, “Of course, we live in a bubble.” She was gone before I could reply, but if she’d stuck around another minute, I would have told her this: I disagree. The Bay Area isn’t a bubble. It’s an incubator. For nearly 200 years, people from all over the world have come here to embrace new lives. As Betty Reid Soskin — at 103 one of the last of the living Rosie the Riveters — told me, “It’s where visionaries come to find constituents for their wildest dreams.”  Betty Reid Soskin worked at the Liberty Shipyards during WWII and served as a docent at the Rosie the Riveter Naitonal Historic Park in Richmond, CA until she retired at the age of 101. Betty talked about the African American and white workers who were thrown together in the local shipyards, cranking out Liberty Ships faster than the Nazis could sink them. “They helped to turn the course of the war around by out-producing the enemy. And in the process, they accelerated the rate of social change, so that to this day it still radiates out of the Bay Area into the rest of the nation.” The Bay Area has always shaped American culture. We gave the world blue jeans, television, dot coms, the Murphy bed, jukeboxes, the LGBTQ+ movement, no-fault divorce, Airbnb, Uber, OpenAI, and driverless cars. Our ideas are still radiating across the nation. So what’s everyone around me are thinking about now? I’d like to know. Which is why I’ll be starting The Ideas Club in my town of San Anselmo at the earliest opportunity. Which will be next spring. My time in California is growing short; Rich and I head back to Spain next month. It’s hard to leave my friends, family, and work here, but my Spanish life is calling to me now. And as Einstein famously said, “Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving.”  "Every time I see an adult on a bicycle, I no longer despair for the future of the human race," said H.G. Wells, author of The Time Machine. FINDING HOPE This story is next to last in my series of blog posts exploring ways we help each other find hope in this worrying world. See all the posts in this series. DON'T MISS OUT! If you haven't already, take a moment to subscribe so I can let you know when I publish my weekly posts. Just send me an email and I'll take it from there. [email protected] SUBSCRIBED BUT NOT GETTING POST ANNOUNCEMENTS? Check your spam folder. Internet security is in a frenzy these days. If you still can't find it, please let me know. FOR FURTHER READING My bestselling travel memoirs & guides Cozy Places to Eat in Seville My new book: My San Francisco If you haven't read My San Francisco yet, you can order it HERE. Already read this book? Please leave a review HERE. You can purchase a signed paperback edition, in person or online, at Rebound Bookstore in San Rafael, CA  Right now I'm in the front window of Rebound Bookstore, along with the Marin Independent Journal article about my book! I'm also featured in the podcast Leaving America: E12, Taxation. You can listen here. GOING SOMEWHERE? Enter any destination or topic, such as packing light or road food, in the search box below. If I've written about it, you'll find it. I don’t want to give you the impression I’m obsessed with old armchairs. It’s just that when I see one by the side of the road, pleading desperately to be adopted, or find one languishing among the clutter of a second-hand shop, it’s like a seeing an abandoned puppy with big, sad eyes pleading, “Please take me home; we’d be so comfortable together!” Old furniture, with a checkered past and lots of character, always calls to me. Rich frequently has to drag me away from pieces that wouldn’t fit in our home unless we moved to a larger place. He’s right, of course. But still, the temptation… Not all temptation can — or should — be resisted. Take these two mid-century classics.  The Buick (left) and the Chevy are enjoying a comfortable old age on our sunporch. The Buick (left) came with the apartment I sublet from friends in the mid-eighties. When Rich and I became an item, I felt the Buick needed a partner, too. And I rejoiced when I found the Chevy, in disreputable condition with a $50 price tag, sitting forlornly outside a second-hand furniture shop in the rain. “Old empty chairs are not empty in reality,” says Turkish author Mehmet Murat ildan, “memories always sit there!” So true! I often wonder who loved these chairs before we took them in and gave them a makeover. Because they turned up in the Berkeley-Oakland area, I imagine they each began life in upscale digs on the high hills, descended into the shabby comfort of professors’ homes on the lower slopes, and eventually found their way down to student housing and the indignity of garage sales in the flatlands. No matter. The Buick and Chevy are part of our family now. True, they are way too large for our small cottage, the fabric on their backs is fading, and the seats’ once-firm underpinning gets squishier every year. But life just wouldn’t be the same without them.  Carolyn Flannery, queen of rescued chairs (and founder and CEO of Make It Home) “It's not just furniture, it’s not just a place to sit,” says Carolyn Flannery, the queen of second-hand furniture in my part of the world. “A sofa is a place to read a child a book. A dining table is a place to gather with family and create memories. A bed gives them a stronger base to sleep well, so they can actually work well. So it's not just furniture, it's dignity and hope.” Carolyn knows all about the positive effects of furnishings. In the past five years she’s outfitted 2785 homes for 6779 people in need, thanks to her not-for-profit company, Make It Home.  Carolyn started out at the high end of the industry, selling antiques then doing interior decorating, while raising four kids and providing respite care for foster children needing a safe place to stay for a short while. “I found out that foster kids didn't get anything when they aged out at 18,” she told me. “California's now providing some [support] services up to 24 . But still. An 18-year-old doesn't know much. Think about it. So I'm 18 years old, somebody has just luckily given me a Section Eight voucher for housing, but now I've got to set up all my bills. I've got to cook for myself, I've got to clean, I've got to manage rent and all the expenses that go along with being an adult.” She paused and added, “It’s a very hard struggle. Quite honestly, they might think being homeless is easier.” Which is why 25% of kids aging out of foster care wind up living on the street.  A homeless teen on the street in Saratoga County, NY. Photo: DoSomething In 2020, when Carolyn was ready for a career change, she decided to bring her various vocations together into Make It Home. She raised money through private donations and grants, and got 1200 square feet of donated space in San Francisco. Furniture came pouring in from people isolated at home during the pandemic; it seemed everyone was looking around and thinking, “Why didn’t I get rid of that years ago?” Opening day was September 9, 2020 — a day seared into the memory of everyone in the Bay Area, because that was the morning we all woke up to the apocalyptic sight of a flaming red sky filled with drifting ash.  On September 9, 2020, the entire Bay Area looked like this. The North Complex wildfire burned 318,935 acres before it was finally contained three months later. When Carolyn announced she was giving free furnishings to wildfire victims as well as foster care kids, she was flooded with requests. And yet more donations. Since then she’s grown from a one-woman operation to a staff of nine, plus about a dozen regular volunteers in the furniture refurbishing workshop, and dozens more who take on such tasks as assembling kitchen kits from donated housewares and staffing outreach booths at public gatherings. Her client base is anyone referred by one of the 120 agencies she works with. She serves those who have suffered through domestic violence, natural disasters, PTSD, homelessness; community spaces like rec centers for teens; foster families taking kids; and so many more. Her collection is now housed in an 11,000-foot donated warehouse in San Rafael, and a new grant made it possible to purchase permanent space which they'll move to in the very near future. For Carolyn, keeping useful furniture in circulation is something of a crusade. Her efforts have resulted in keeping 3063 tons of garbage out of the landfill. OK, I admit, that’s a drop in the bucket compared to the global total of 2.12 billion tons of landfill waste generated each year, but you have to start somewhere. “Just because you decided you don't want it anymore, it's still your responsibility to get it into the hands of someone else who can use it,” she says. “And if you set it out on your driveway, if it gets picked up and taken by somebody, that's fantastic. But if you put it out there and it gets rained on? It gets wrecked, and it sits there for forever.” You can imagine how upsetting that was to me, with my deep affection for the upholstered community. How could we treat our overstuffed friends so callously, when there are so many people waiting to love them? For those beyond the geographic reach of Make It Home, there are plenty of options, including Goodwill, Habitat for Humanity, and countless local charities, to say nothing of flea markets and garages sales. When you give furniture its freedom, there's no telling what adventures will ensue. Imagine the surprise of this ordinary, domestic armchair when it found itself being transformed into Art. “Make It Home has taken over my life completely,” Carolyn told me. “I work 80 to 100 hours a week. Within my marriage, we have agreed that this is a 10 year window, so I've got four years left, and I’m going to work towards transitioning out of the everyday control of the organization.” “What will you do then?” I asked, picturing her lolling on a beach in Tahiti drinking rum from a coconut shell. “I'll paint furniture,” she said, glancing wistfully at the nearby workshop, where Chris was fiddling with a chair while his three-legged dog Bestie snoozed at his feet. “Spend my days in the workshop.” I’m not sure, but I think the chairs surrounding her were actually smiling. I know I was.  Who says chairs can't smile? Photo: "Turquoise Kiss" pop art chair, by Color Life FINDING HOPE This story is part of my series of blog posts exploring ways we help each other find hope in this worrying world. Know someone you think should be featured? Tell me more in the comments section below. See all the posts in this series. DON'T MISS OUT! If you haven't already, take a moment to subscribe so I can let you know when I publish my weekly posts. Just send me an email and I'll take it from there. [email protected] SUBSCRIBED BUT NOT GETTING POST ANNOUNCEMENTS? Check your spam folder. Internet security is in a frenzy these days. If you still can't find it, please let me know. FOR FURTHER READING My bestselling travel memoirs & guides Cozy Places to Eat in Seville My new book: My San Francisco If you haven't read My San Francisco yet, you can order it HERE. You can purchase a signed paperback edition, in person or online, at Rebound Bookstore in San Rafael, CA Already read this book? I invite you to leave a review HERE. GOING SOMEWHERE? Enter any destination or topic, such as packing light or road food, in the search box below. If I've written about it, you'll find it.  Just because we're older doesn't mean we have to act like grown-ups all the time. The author with Phil, Babs, Rich, and Mike. Photo: Tobey Hiller “In this game of life, I seem to be headed for ‘extra innings,’” my friend Jerry wrote last week in the invitation to his 95th birthday party and jazz concert. We carried lawn chairs and picnic blankets to a shady spot under the trees and settled in. Although I’m the least musical person on the planet, even I could tell Jerry’s lush, elegant, velvety jazz was magical. Adapting Thelonious Monk’s classic ’Round About Midnight, Jerry called it ’Round About 10:30. But don’t think for a moment that means Jerry is slowing down. He lives in his own home, drives himself everywhere, and hasn’t lost his gift for a mesmerizing riff.  That's Jerry (a retired college professor of music) on the keyboard, and his son Michael Moore (no, not the filmmaker, the award-winning musician) on the clarinet. How do people become “super-agers” like Jerry? Rich’s Aunt Mary lived to 103, and when I asked for her secret of longevity, she told me, “I drink one of these every day,” and held up a glass of whiskey. My 94-year-old Ohio neighbor, who still repainted the exterior of his house every five years all by himself, attributed his lifespan to munching celery daily. Hmmm, which regimen should I adopt? Neither. Science says that while diet and drinking habits matter, as do lots of other factors, according to a new study published by the National Institutes of Health, the super-agers’ one common denominator is (drumroll, please) lots of social relationships. Some call this “social capital.” It turns out having relationships with others in our community creates a common stockpile of interest, trust, and reciprocity that changes how — and how long — we live. We’ve all read about the epidemic of loneliness that’s as hazardous to our health as a cigarette habit. Conversely, “Your chances of dying over the next year are cut in half by joining one group,” said Robert Putnam, 84, whose landmark book, Bowling Alone, introduced America to the idea that social capital exists and it has value.  “Community connectedness is not just about warm fuzzy tales of civic triumph,” Putnam explained. “In measurable and well-documented ways, social capital makes an enormous difference in our lives. Social capital makes us smarter, healthier, safer, richer, and better able to govern a just and stable democracy.” Unfortunately, our social capital is dwindling. Instead of joining clubs, going to church socials, and participating in civic organizations, most of us are home watching TV and scrolling through our phones.  Without the fellowship forged in coffee mornings, basement meetings, and potluck suppers, it’s become a lot harder (as you may have noticed) to maintain a just and stable democracy. So, no pressure, but if we’re going to turn things around, we need to start by forming closer connections with one another. And it can be done. For proof, we need look no further than Ireland’s pub culture. “My grandfather’s pub outside of Dublin was a gathering space,” said John Crowley, owner of Aqus Cafe in Petaluma, CA. “From the age of 12 to 22, I worked in my family business. It was a basic community center where everybody met: the mayor and the bricklayers and the teachers... In Ireland, when you move community, you go down the local pub and you meet everybody. Coming to California, I wanted a place that I could hang out and have a glass of wine, and my grandmother have a cup of tea, and my kids have a soda. But that doesn't really exist in America.” Then one evening, when his wife and kids were out of town, and John was channel surfing, bored out of his mind, inspiration struck. “I sent out an email to a couple of my friends and said, ‘How about we meet next Saturday in Volpi’s at eight o'clock, and at nine o'clock we'll go to Graziano, and at ten o'clock we'll go someplace else.' I remember the first night, sitting in Volpi’s, thinking, ‘Is anybody going to show up?’”  Owner John Volpi (90) stopped playing his accordion in the back bar last year, but it's still one of my favorite watering holes. The partially open door is where deliveries were snuck in during Prohibition. Not to keep you in suspense, John's pub crawl was so popular it was repeated every few months and grew to 100+ people. “Very quickly, we realized that we needed themes on these things,” he told me. “And some of the themes were: bring a photograph of yourself as a teenager, or bring the last postcard you got, or my favorite, bring a book that changed your life.” John kept his day job as a software engineer while running pub nights for ten years. And then in 2006, he opened Aqus Cafe with the idea of creating a gathering space akin to his grandfather’s pub. I first discovered Aqus two years ago, when Rich and I stumbled out of a meeting with our estate lawyer. If there’s anything more demoralizing than having long conversations about our respective deaths, it’s having long conversations about the tax consequences of our respective deaths. Rich and I were in serious need of a restorative coffee, and in Aqus we found the cappuccino came with a side of mesmerizing bulletin board notices.  The bulletin board at Aqus Cafe. "It's like a non-fiction novel," said RIch. "Each chapter more interesting than the last." We wanted to do everything hosted by the café: community dinners, conversation groups, poetry readings, musical evenings, and art exhibitions. They were organizing “Drinks with Shrinks” for therapists; “The Written Word” for writers, editors, publishers, and book jacket designers; coffee mornings for seniors; dinners for retired educators, for nonprofits, for French speakers… “Why couldn’t this stuff be happening in our town?” I remember grumbling enviously to Rich. Petaluma’s half an hour's drive away, making Aqus a bit distant to be our local. After interviewing John on Friday, I realized it wouldn’t take much to start, say, one community-building effort in my town. I could steal John’s idea and have people meet at our local coffee house, bringing a book that changed their life. Hmmm. (Rich, stop rolling your eyes. It’ll be fun. And not that much work. Trust me!)  What books have changed your life? Photo: Booklist Queen Community, says John, not only fights loneliness, it dispels fear and distrust. “We're growing up getting terrified,” he said. “I remember when I first came to the United States, I stayed with my brother just the other side of town. And I was shocked by his kids, who were having breakfast every morning with milk cartons with pictures of missing children on them. I felt like if this is first thing you see every morning, of course you're gonna be scared of your neighbor, scared of everybody.”  These ads appeared on milk cartons in the 1980s and 1990s; they were discontinued when the Amber Alert System was developed in 1996. The antidote, John said, is getting to know your neighbors. Whether it’s a walking club, birdwatching society, or environmental justice committee, getting together regularly with a mixed bag of neighbors builds our social capital. We learn to get along and work together — yes, even when we don’t share identical political, social, and cultural perspectives. And learning to work together with diverse people gives us the skills and connections we need if we're going to make the world more livable. “Ask yourself,” John suggested, “what should we be doing now that in five years’ time, we’ll wish we had done?” Community gatherings at Aqus. To me, these look like a lot more fun than scrolling through my phone and browsing Netflix. FINDING HOPE This story is part of my series of blog posts exploring ways we help each other find hope in this worrying world. Know someone you think should be featured? Tell me more in the comments section below. See all the posts in this series. DON'T MISS OUT! If you haven't already, take a moment to subscribe so I can let you know when I publish my weekly posts. Just send me an email and I'll take it from there. [email protected] SUBSCRIBED BUT NOT GETTING POST ANNOUNCEMENTS? Check your spam folder. Internet security is in a frenzy these days. If you still can't find it, please let me know. FOR FURTHER READING My bestselling travel memoirs & guides Cozy Places to Eat in Seville My new book: My San Francisco If you haven't read My San Francisco yet, you can order it HERE. You can purchase a signed paperback edition, in person or online, at Rebound Bookstore in San Rafael, CA Already read this book? I invite you to leave a review HERE. GOING SOMEWHERE? Enter any destination or topic, such as packing light or road food, in the search box below. If I've written about it, you'll find it.  Are closer communities the answer to sustainable living? This is Petaluma Avenue Homes, an affordable cohousing community in Sebastopol, CA. “Any group that feels obligated to include ‘Are you a sex cult?’ on its frequently asked questions page probably has something of a public relations problem, even when the answer is, ‘No,’” observes journalist Jon Brooks. You can see his point. He was writing about Lafayette Morehouse, a commune founded in 1968 whose residents still embrace a “responsible hedonism” philosophy. “Seriously," says their website, "we are in many ways fairly traditional, suburban families and individuals, but we’re also a group exploring pleasurable living, which qualifies us as an alternative lifestyle.”  Facebook photo of a Lafayette Morehouse gathering in 2019 On their 20-acre plot in Lafayette, CA, members paint their houses purple because “We think it only fair to let people know that they are entering an unusual situation.” For the curious there are courses such as “Saying Yes to Pleasure.” Friskier members of the public are invited to games nights during which “Playing the structured games often affords an experience of surprising intimacy, insight, and laughter.” What games? I don’t know, but I suspect we’re not talking about Scrabble and Parcheesi… So while they wouldn’t define themselves as a sex cult, clearly Lafayette Morehouse is a “fairly traditional, suburban family” — with benefits. But that’s us humans for you. We cannot resist experimenting with our living conditions. Since the dawn of civilization we’ve attempted to bring about Utopia — or at least provide a more efficient way to organize meals, share tools, and avoid the existential angst of loneliness. From Plato’s ideal of a family-free society to Medieval monasteries to the celibate Shakers to the free love and organic vegetable Mother Goddess hippie farms, every generation has had a go at redefining how humans should live together.  At 68 Brother Arnold Hadd is one of the last two living Shakers. Turns out celibacy is not an effective strategy for growth. Photo: Lucas Foglia for The New York Times What’s the latest? And just how eccentric do you have to be to participate? Incredibly, the twenty-first century has come up with something rarely seen in modern times: a practical model that works for ordinary people. It’s about grouping slightly smaller homes and apartments to create natural opportunities for social interaction. For anyone contemplating a move these days, they’re something to consider. The three main styles are cohousing, pocket neighborhoods, and co-living spaces. Cohousing is the most sociable; everyone has their own home but gathers regularly for meals, work, and recreation. Pocket neighborhoods are clusters of homes and townhouses, rather like the charming, old-fashioned villages you see in Agatha Christie movies, only without the dead body. Interaction is less structured. Co-living is much like a traditional boarding house, with private accommodations and shared kitchens and workspaces. Every community has its own rules and terminology because hey, original thinking is the whole point. “The growth of co-living arrangements is predicted to significantly increase, with estimates suggesting the market will grow from $13.3 billion to $63.8 billion by 2028,” reports the Lincoln Institute of Land Management. “As housing in urban areas becomes more expensive, co-living offers an affordable alternative, especially for young professionals and students. By sharing living spaces and communal facilities, residents can significantly reduce expenses such as rent, utilities, and maintenance.” Most of us grew up in housing designed for the post WWII nuclear family. In 1950, nearly all Americans — 87% — were married. By 2022, it was just 47%.  Our single-family homes were developed in the post-war years for a very different family lifestyle. Our households are increasingly non-nuclear: single parent, multi-generational, solo seniors, roommates, and other configurations abound. Living in non-traditional households can make it easier than ever to feel adrift in a global society. “As a species, we apparently evolved genetically and culturally to live in groups of 50 to 150 people,” says professor of population studies Paul Ehrlich. “It is, of course, still not clear whether any sustainable social system can be devised for a small-group animal like Homo sapiens, struggling to live in groups of millions and even billions.”  Current population of the world: 8,237,968,065. Today people are exploring all sorts of alternatives to single family homes set on separate plots of land. Would you be happier with dozens of close neighbors, regular communal meals, and shared workshops? Is the lifestyle sustainable over time among a mixed group of I-gotta-be-me Americans? “Oh, yeah,” says Richard Senghas. “It’s like an oasis.” And he should know. As a newly hired linguistic anthropology professor at Sonoma State University, Richard helped found the cohousing community in Cotati, CA, where he and his family have lived for more than two decades. Called FrogSong for the croaking chorus arising from the site’s marshy areas, the 2.34-acre development is designed on the condominium model. The 62 residents buy their own apartments or townhouses and share common work and play areas. Residents have no direct control over who may join, but with bylaws requiring decisions by consensus and a commitment to pitch in preparing frequent shared meals, it tends to attract people with the same outlook.  FrogSong's main gate FrogSong’s Common House officially opened October 10, 2003, a date commemorated every year as Hearth Day. “It's a non-moving holiday,” says Richard. “But then the most adjacent weekend, we have a whole weekend of things: we have a breakfast together, and a pajama contest, and a no talent show....” It’s small wonder that half the units are still occupied by their original 2003 owners. Everyone parks at the periphery and walks home via community pathways, passing other units. There are communal meals at least twice a week, and everyone takes turns with the shopping, cooking, and cleanup. In an emergency, you don’t have to look far for help. “I can speak personally about that.” Richard’s eyes welled up. “I always get emotional….” He took a deep breath and told me about his wife’s illness. “Tina got really sick. She had double pneumonia so she had to go into the emergency department. And we had this kid in kindergarten. I called [my neighbor] Heather, and I said, ‘Hey, Heather, could I bring Ursula to you until we figure out what's happening?’ And she said, ‘Sure.’ And she called the network, and they coordinated for the next ten days taking care of Ursula. She always had clean clothes. She always had meals. She was brought to school. I saw her whenever I could, but I was a new, junior faculty member trying to get all my courses going. People helped. And it made such a difference.” (Tina’s fine now. Thanks for asking.)  The Amish still pitch in to build barns — and community. This is how Homo sapiens has survived so long in a frequently hostile world: cooperation. And that happens through community. We are small-group animals, happiest in packs, like dogs and dolphins. It’s no coincidence that we find loneliness worrying; loneliness is nature’s way of sending a signal to our brain that something needs to change. That doesn’t necessarily mean moving to an organic farm or embracing the mantra (or practitioners) of “responsible hedonism.” Nor does it require more technology; I was aghast at how many apps are flooding the market offering conversations with AI that will give you “emotional support to ease your feelings of loneliness.” The cure for loneliness isn’t more time with clever machines, it’s more time with congenial people. That can happen in many, many ways, and thanks to these collective housing enterprises, we’ve added all sorts of interesting new options to the human repertoire.  FINDING HOPE This story is part of my series of blog posts exploring ways we help each other find hope in this worrying world. Know someone you think should be featured? Tell me more in the comments section below. See all the posts in this series. DON'T MISS OUT! If you haven't already, take a moment to subscribe so I can let you know when I publish my weekly posts. Just send me an email and I'll take it from there. [email protected] SUBSCRIBED BUT NOT GETTING POST ANNOUNCEMENTS? Check your spam folder. Internet security is in a frenzy these days. If you still can't find it, please let me know. FOR FURTHER READING My bestselling travel memoirs & guides Cozy Places to Eat in Seville My new book: My San Francisco If you haven't read My San Francisco yet, you can order it HERE. You can purchase a signed paperback edition, in person or online, at Rebound Bookstore in San Rafael, CA Already read this book? I invite you to leave a review HERE. GOING SOMEWHERE? Enter any destination or topic, such as packing light or road food, in the search box below. If I've written about it, you'll find it. |
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