There was a time ...

Before television, people visited more. Everyone had a front porch, which served as more than a portal to enter our homes; it was a place of refuge from the elements, of hospitality in the cool of the waning afternoon, and of courting, where young people bid each other a lingering goodnight (under the watchful eye of her parents).

In the evening, after the supper dishes were washed, folks would gather on the front porch to listen to Burns and Allen, Jack Benny, or the Lone Ranger, and to talk about their day. There always was a neighbor out and about, and the invitation to stop and visit was understood. Over a cool glass of tea, people would talk over the world situation and try to make sense of it.

We are poorer today without our front porches, because we are insulated from each other in digital cocoons. The gentle humor of George, Gracie, and Jack have been replaced by biting satire, neurotic drama, and contrived “reality” contests. We share opinions through anonymous polls and public discussion is reduced to 30 second “sound bytes,” in which one lying politician accuses another lying politician of being disingenuous.

But, I have a front porch, and you have stopped by. Take a load off your feet, and sit a spell. Some of the essays you will read were published in The Orlando Sentinel, the American Chronicle, or Crossways Magazine, and some I wrote for this site. All are copyrighted, so please share them with friends by URL link, so my ideas retain their context. I hope you find them interesting.

Please visit again.

The Front Porch Philosopher