For the fifth year in a row (since I became landed gentry) I celebrated National Night In. Yeah, I feel like something of a shmuck. Each year when August 5th rolls around I have the best intentions in mind. I plan on getting out there and hanging with the neighbors. I like the idea of community. I certainly enjoy my community webspaces. But online it’s like attracting like. In the real world, especially in an eclectic neighborhood like mine, things don’t work out quite so neatly. It’s slightly easier to choose one’s neighbors than it is to choose one’s family members, but not by much (unless you’re wealthy, which I am not). Not to say I’m some sort of shut-in or stranger around these parts. I know some of the neighbors’ names, and the names and ages of many of the kids. There’s been occasional chitchat and frequent waving and head nodding. But nothing like it was when I was growing up…when we knew exactly who lived in which house, how many kids and/or pets they had, what their names, ages and favorite colors were (well, maybe not the pets’ favorite colors) and we had more than likely run through their homes a couple of dozen times. Oh how things have changed. I know part of it’s due to the vip pass we hold when we’re children (mine expired some time ago)…but to a larger degree I blame societal shifts of the last couple of decades. Yesterday James reminded me of a book, “Bowling Alone“, which documents this very subject…showing “how we have become increasingly disconnected from family, friends, neighbors, and our democratic structures– and how we may reconnect.” I ought to pick that up one of these days. Until then, I’ll try to force myself out of this little bubble…and will start by scheduling a few more playdates for the little man…even if those other kids don’t have weblogging indie-rocking anime-watching science-fiction reading lomo-loving vegan friendster-member moms.