The Front Porch

A few days ago, a memory of a 2015 Facebook post popped up on my timeline — and unlike many other memories that I ignore — I took a look at this one and decided to share. The topic was “The Front Porch.”

As a kid and a teen, I loved sitting on our front porch. Now — don’t be mistaken, the front porch was not a big wrap around the house, rocking chair and swing type porch. It was really little more than a stoop and a stack of cinder blocks. (See the background of the post photo of my sister and me — I think it was her Kinder and my preschool graduation days.)

One of my earliest memories at about this time (mid-1960s), was of the whole family sitting in our small living room watching tv when we heard a big thud from that front porch. Mom quickly shut off the lights and peeked out the windows to find a small brawl. A fight between the neighborhood young adults and the cops had broken out on the front lawn. Fortunately, not too much damage beyond a broken arm and a few black eyes resulted from the riot… A brick had landed on our porch — and thankfully not against someone’s head.

Our home sat on the main thoroughfare through our neighborhood. In the heat of the summer, much like that riot I remember —…