On Nothing Much
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My Friend Lives In a Commune I have a dear friend, now entering middle age, who has lived in a commune most of her life. She doesn’t call it a commune, more a shared community, but that is what it is. To modern ears, the term “commune” often evokes a rural, counter-cultural, anti-establishment community formed by those with shared spiritual, political or social values, viewpoints or lifestyles. Religious abbeys and monasteries, Israeli agricultural kibbutzim, Russian mir communities, Chinese collective farms, and American hippie coops readily come to mind. What separates these living arrangements from fraternities, assisted living facilities, and boarding homes may be temporal and attitudinal. For the most part, the former seem deliberately longer term and more consciously connective than the latter. In modern American society, the prevailing living unit is the nuclear and extended family – one or more generations of related family members residing under a single roof. In modern communal living, multiple unrelated families and individuals pool their financial resources and personal skills to establish a collective household on a larger scale. Nothing more is required than a mutual desire to share assets, expenses, responsibilities and everyday life. In my friend’s case, her group owns the better part of a city block and then some, with a series of fenced-in side-by-side detached homes, interlocking courtyards and patios, a common swimming pool, a large aviary, several formal gardens, a central recreation room, and a well-equipped children’s play area. Each home has a traditional living room, dining area, and residential kitchen. Some have guest rooms and suites for visitors. There is also a commercial-grade kitchen and large formal dining hall in the middle of the block that can easily accommodate most of the community sitting down all at once to a meal or meeting. These urban villagers also own a large pastoral farm that serves, at need, as a quiet retreat for some or a special gathering place for all. The large Southern-style farmhouse has a welcoming wrap-around porch and is configured as a bed-and-breakfast. The residential group includes doctors, lawyers, certified public accountants, business leaders, marketing specialists, writers, information technology experts, talented artists and musicians, licensed educators, mechanics, gardeners, homemakers, retirees, children and others. One unifying element is that they are all exceptionally creative and expressive. They are true vaudevillians at heart, and give contemporary and raucous energy to Mickey Rooney’s shout out, “Let’s put on a show!” And their holiday shows are hilarious, boisterous and entertaining. What’s most interesting about this group is that they operate their own state-certified school, and accept students and teachers from outside the core residential community. Most of their alumni attend college, and many go on to graduate and professional schools. Even more surprising, this group owns several affiliated high-technology, graphics design, animation, and marketing companies that also hire from outside the core residential community. Collectively, the business constitutes one of the largest employers in the city, has both high-profile and common-man customers throughout the country, and regularly garners industry awards and other public recognition for its work-product and services. My friend’s community is indeed a commune, but that word is inadequate to the measure. What I do know is that much work is involved in managing and directing the affairs of the group and its members toward a common good. And So Do We Some may choose to deny it, but Watergate is also a commune of sorts – multiple families and individuals living under a literal shared roof. The extent of our common property ownership and allocated responsibilities may be more limited than in my friend’s case, and the legal formalism of our living arrangement may be deemed a condominium rather than a commune, but we are very much tied together physically and financially in a communal singularity. As such, we don’t always get what we might want individually, we must often compromise, and in some matters we are required to act collectively and collaboratively. At times, I think my friend has it easier. There seems to be a more deliberate decision by the members of her group to join and remain in it, with a knowing acceptance of what that entails. In the case of Watergate, I sometimes think that many of those who live here want a level of unfettered autonomy more commonly tied to single family life along a cul-de-sac or rural road. We may not be a commune in name or design, but our living is more communal than most will readily concede. Perhaps it would be more obvious if we had an aviary instead of a fish pond. Brian
Lam On Nothing Much is a periodic feature of this website that considers life about us. I wish to thank those of you who are reading these postings and sending me notes of encouragement, gentle criticism, or otherwise.
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