It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood

I finally know what Mr. Rogers was singing about. After decades of subdivisions, housing developments, and the concept of gated communities, I am finally living in a neighborhood.

Within 2 weeks of moving in, I met 20 of my closest neighbors (half of them pint-sized) and dozens of people who regularly walk down this street. This is called "Old Town" and the way of living here goes back a long way.

There are about a dozen kids. Everyone seems to subscribe to the "it takes a community" approach to child rearing. On an almost daily basis, cones are put at each end of the street and a lawn chair is set up somewhere in the middle of the street. One parent or another sits like a lifeguard as all the kids race up and down on razors, bicycles, or playing games. When they need some rest, they dangle from the trees across the street where there are several swings. Every yard is a play space whether any of the kids actually lives in the house or not. And every adult (parent or not) is fair game for watching, helping, patching up bruised pride, or being safety monitor.

Within a month we'd been invited to a neighbor's house for dinner. Inside 6 weeks the neighbors were loaning Guy a tiara to wear with his tutu (oh, wait, that's another story). And already at 2 months we are hosting a happy hour to celebrate our house and neighborhood.

Would you be my, wontcha be my...neighbor.