When I was a kid I was kind of a loner. Nobody was interested in what I cared about and I didn’t find friends to share my life with. Now, thanks to the Internet, I have a rich community of friends in my life. Granted, they are all online friends, but they support me and share my interests. That may change soon, since I’m organizing a . . .

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “community.”

Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

2 thoughts on “Community”

  1. The writing community of friends sharing poems and stories enclude a variety of personalities, thinkers and writers. They review the things they stand for in writing, instead of beoming orators. When written on paper it can be shared, laid aside to ripen, to stand on its own.

  2. Today I miss that sense of community I grew up with. Most of my schoolmates and friends moved out of the city and into the suburbs. The mass exodus if you will once mostly everyone married and started having babies. We all wanted to give our children, the next generation, even more than we had. Now at my ripe senior age I reflect back on how wonderful the community in that big city outside of Manhattan was. Although it was a very large city we did a lot of walking or biking in those days and got around to the various ethnic neighborhoods. It was great because we experienced meeting others from different cultures. The mix was predominantly Italian, Irish, Slovak, Russian and Polish. We would have so much fun going to church fairs and eating ethnic food. On Good Friday it was customary to visit different churches. There was the Columbus Day Parade with the Irish bands marching along Main Street followed by much celebrating afterwards. Who could forget the Pulaski Day Parade with Polish high school bands coming from all over the state and the beautiful Polish costumes. The Italians would put on an annual Spring Feast where we would get the most delicious pastries and our introduction to homemade Italian “ices.” If you went anywhere in that large city you wouldn’t fail to meet someone you had met before. The adults in all of those neighborhoods kept eagle eyes on the younger teens and children. You could walk the streets in the dark after band practice or a game and felt safe. There wasn’t any way you couldn’t become friendly with someone from another ethnic culture. I learned to cook eggplant parm from my Italian friend. My Russian girlfriend’s mother sewed elaborate dresses for two other girls and me because the trio sang at nursing homes and at church talent shows. We all dated college fellows of different nationalities. Naturally we all intermarried and mixed. It truly was a melting pot. A great, warm melting pot of fascinating people. A lot is missing in communities I’ve lived in CT, FL, and ME. Very different.

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