Shortly after I moved into my new house in South Philly, I started an unlikely friendship with my next door neighbor — actual next door, not NextDoor — after he said hello as I stepped out to get the mail on a rather cold February day.
“Put on some damn shoes,” were the first words Bob said to me. I couldn’t argue with good sense. Still, it was an interesting introduction.
When the weather got warmer, Bob and I would sit on our respective steps and talk, sometimes for hours a day. Then around 80 years old, he had kids old enough to be my father. We were an odd pairing for friendship, admittedly.
Anytime someone stopped by my house when I wasn’t there, he told me. Packages left on the step when I was out or at work were quickly retrieved and kept safe in his house. Every now and then, I’d get him a bottle of his favorite vodka as a thank you. Sometimes, he made pastries for us both.
“You’re the first new person to move in and say hello,” one of my neighbors told me the day I flagged her down to introduce myself in 2018.
He told me about people who used to live on the block that he missed, people who still lived on the block, and people that he wished didn’t.
Neighbors grew used to both of us sitting outside and, if not both of us, then one of us was almost always stationed there. We were the typical kind of feature of any working class neighborhood, men with stories whose primary hobby seemed to be sitting there awhile.
“One of the best features of the rowhouse street is that you have so many neighbors close at hand,” reads the Philadelphia Rowhouse Manual published by the City’s Department of Planning and Development. “Sitting on the stoop and watching the action on the street is for many what living in Philadelphia is all about.”
Step-sitting is a dying art
Unfortunately, with increasing numbers of new residents in neighborhoods like mine across the city, the art of step sitting (or stoop sitting whichever you prefer) is becoming less and less common. This situation is distressing for no other reason than our respective working class perches are what define us as Philadelphians; our stone and concrete welcome mats to the world are an indelible feature of the city.
Instead, Philadelphians are increasingly turning to Facebook neighborhood groups and Ring doorbell cameras to monitor the action on the street instead of sitting on their steps. Somewhat related, both locally and across America, people are relying too much on 911 calls to settle disputes or maintain peace. What years ago required a conversation and a handshake now requires a militarized state response, apparently.
As I see it, the core problem isn’t the affordable housing crisis, the mental health crisis, the poverty crisis, or any crisis other than people unwilling to grow up and interact with the fellow human beings they share a block with. They’re unable to stop hiding behind the protection and relative anonymity of a computer or smartphone screen and are seemingly terrified of interacting with people in person. It’s the lazy, half-assed way to be an engaged citizen.
This explains the explosion of sites like NextDoor and the new tradition of informing on neighbors on such sites. It also explains why newcomers in particular to neighborhoods like mine seem to have no time to sit on their steps but plenty of time to complain online about others sitting on their steps, querying the neighborhood Facebook group on what to do. If you ask me, it’s inexplicable that grown adults able to purchase homes view simple communication with other human beings as a problem requiring outside help.
It’s this uncomfortable truth that people don’t want to admit, but it’s one that their actions convey.
“You’re the first new person to move in and say hello,” one of my neighbors told me the day I flagged her down to introduce myself in 2018. I couldn’t tell if she was complimenting me or complaining, so I assumed the positive. Admittedly, my 1950s friendliness might be a little disconcerting in 2023.
“Put on some damn shoes,” were the first words Bob said to me. I couldn’t argue with good sense. Still, it was an interesting introduction.
To be fair, this bifurcation might not necessarily occur along the fault lines of new and old residents. After all, I only moved into my own home that year in 2018. Yet, even in my case, I’m feeling increasingly like a member of an old guard simply because I talk to people. Maybe I’m just becoming my ultimate form as “cringey, nice guy dad type” just without the marriage or children.
Truly, not everyone is friendly regardless of how long they’ve been around. Some seemingly want to get through the day with as few words to others as possible. I get that.
Plus, you can’t really blame longtime residents or newcomers alike if they adopt this unfortunate chilly practice, with terrifying headlines beating a fear mongering cadence marching us toward a walled, surveilled dystopia. Better to just have a robot monitor your way into safety rather than take the risk of, you know, talking to people.
Even the Philadelphia Police Department has started to rely on this phenomenon. A few months ago, I received a notice that my doorbell camera might have recorded evidence of a shooting suspect fleeing down my street.
I never received a call or follow-up; I wouldn’t necessarily need one, either, given police can often obtain cloud-based security system footage without the owner’s consent. All I received was a random note tucked into my door. Detectives, too, are apparently shy in this age of constant surveillance and little human interaction.
The best security system around
To me, it’s impossible to not see a relationship between our relative anonymity nowadays and the fact that the vast majority of people shooting at others make off without ever being arrested. That’s not hyperbole: a 2022 report from the Controller’s Office found that only about 20 percent, or 1 in 5, of non-fatal shootings result in an arrest. For fatal shootings, it’s just under 40 percent.
One of the biggest differences between yesterday and today is that, anecdotally at least, people had ownership of their blocks, not just their individual lots within it. People knew each other. They looked out for one another.
Sitting on my front step prompted me to intervene one afternoon when a contractor felt it appropriate both to back into another neighbor’s car and act like he was doing the entire block a favor for it. Eventually, he hurled a brick at me. But, he missed. And he’s never been back to the block since.
If you ask me, it’s inexplicable that grown adults able to purchase homes view simple communication with other human beings as a problem requiring outside help.
Of course, I’m not recommending getting into fights with surly contractors. But if you ask me, if a man stands for nothing, he’ll fall for anything. At the very least, it’s important to stand for peace and tranquility where you live.
Plus, practically speaking, making friends with your neighbors is better than any security system, from SimpliSafe to ADT. Human intelligence has the ability to cut through unnecessary noise and identify problems in a way that, so far, artificial intelligence seems to struggle with. Most importantly, there’s something important and necessary about feeling a part of rather than apart from our communities.
The tools we’ve grown up with as Millennials or Gen Zers, or adopted as older generations, are supposed to be supplements, not replacements, for real life. If proximity means nothing because of the Internet, it’s a crying shame if we let ourselves grow even farther apart figuratively from our neighbors.
I don’t think my neighbor friend Bob had a Facebook account. In fact, I’m pretty certain he never used a computer. And yet, we were good neighbors and cared for one another just like you should. We had a friendship. When he passed, the step felt a little colder and less friendly. I even find myself out there less and less no matter what the weather is.
But I know I have to make a concerted effort to make an appearance when I can. That’s how this life thing works.
So if you’ve got one, go sit on the step, or stoop, or whatever else you call it. See what happens. You might just make a friend or prevent a tragedy.
Just don’t pick any fights with bricklayers.
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