Narad's New Pronblem

Published in Boston Globe. Here is the link.

http://www.boston.com/news/local/articles/2006/11/30/community_disorientation/

SUBURBAN DIARY Community disorientation By Meenal Pandya  |  November 30, 2006 For the last four years, I had dreaded the day when my youngest would leave the nest. I knew how much it would hurt not to have any child at home in my children-centric life of the last 20 years. I knew that I would miss them immensely, but I also knew that it came with the territory of being a parent. So when my youngest finally left the nest, I was somewhat prepared. But what surprised me was how much I missed the connection with the community around me. I had no idea to what degree my suburban life had revolved around my children's school and activities. But in retrospect, I should have known and expected this all along. When we moved into this house on a semi quiet street in a nice, tree-lined Wellesley neighborhood about 20 years ago, we did not know anyone. We should not have worried, because having a baby in tow meant that we had moved in with our own built-in community connector. As soon as we settled in our new home, I started looking for activities for my daughter. First it was looking for a baby sitter, then the swimming lessons, and then the toddler play group. With every activity for her came a new connection for us parents, and before we knew it we were a part of the neighborhood. Our second daughter arrived a couple of years later, and we felt pretty settled in to the suburban routine of after-school activities, soccer practice, piano lessons, ski trips, proms, and driving lessons. Soon the elementary school gave way to middle school and then high school, and we had built a network of parents, teachers, and children around us. We had become a part of a thriving community that revolved around children and their activities -- a hallmark of American suburban life. As my husband and I had moved to the United States from India for our graduate studies, we were not quite familiar with the rhythm of American suburban life until we had children. I remember our years before children. Although we had lived in five places in two states and had bought a house in a quiet suburb in Connecticut, we had essentially remained outsiders in our community. Our lives rotated around our work place and friends there. For us, home was a place to come to at night when we were tired, and neighbors were the people we saw on Saturday mornings and said "Hi" to while driving away to what ever we were really doing. Our children changed everything. They, in essence, made us "melt" into this proverbial pot of America. It was a great rooting experience, and we began to love the sense of belonging that the community offered. Little did we know that what children gave us might be taken away when they moved out. No longer do we get information about what is happening in town through a casual conversation in the schoolyard. No longer do we get invited to some neighborhood activity through a flier stuffed in a backpack. No longer do we meet other parents at parents' night at school and linger to have a cup of coffee. My husband and I always talked about the changes that our children brought to our lives. They brought joy, enthusiasm, intellectual curiosity, and a renewed sense of wonder in our lives. We just never expected them to connect us to the community we lived in. Now that I am officially an empty nester, I am learning how the community that I have lived in for the last two decades is divided along the line of homes where there are school-age children and homes where there are not. I notice these lines clearly. When the elections roll around, you can drive around the town and identify these homes from the candidate signs on their front yards. When Halloween comes, you can see how the trick-or-treaters roam from house to house -- skipping many homes without children. Schoolyards and soccer games no longer feel like town events, and I am getting familiar with the other side of life that exists in my community. I have crossed that line. I am sure eventually we will find other avenues to get connected again. The search is on. But as I search, I wonder if the connection is really gone forever, just like my children, or will it come back? Meenal Pandya lives in Wellesley; her e-mail is meenal@meerapublications.com. To share a slice of suburban life, send essay of 700 words or less to Steve Maas at maas@globe.com.

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