The Power Of The Front Porch

This front-porch chair isn’t chained down. The latest installment of the Sheffield Avenue diary tells why.

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When we lived in the Westville and Edgewood neighborhoods, we rarely, if ever, spent time in our front yard or spent time on the front porch. But moving back to Newhallville (to assist my mother when she initially became disabled) we were lured outside by our fresh perspective about the architectural beauty of the porches and the effervescent social aspects of the neighborhood.

We discovered that the front porch in Newhallville was making a ​“comeback” as a place to catch a breeze, have fun, see what’s going on in the neighborhood and stay connected with neighbors. From the front porch we called out to each other, sometimes having full-blown conversations from across the street.

However, something interesting happened, when the time came to paint the outside of our house and actually fix up our front porch. We noticed that several neighbors began repairing and painting their front porches too. One neighbor told me outright that she felt embarrassed about the looks of her porch after we repaired ours. Then, just a few weeks later she made repairs and painted her porch as well.

We did our share of copycatting as well. Following the lead of some of our neighbors, we personalized our porch with wind chimes, plants and flowers. When we added old-fashioned white rocking chairs to our front porch scenery, that spot became a gathering place for relaxation and conversation with our closest friends, who mostly live outside of the hood. They too appreciated the vibrancy and traditional sights and sounds of the neighborhood — people going and coming, children playing and the urban sound of music.

Initially, one concerned friend warned us to ​“chain down the chairs.” We thought about that advice for about a minute and concluded ​“naaaah!!!” Nearly two years later, the rockers are still out there.

Things weren’t always this way. It has been said that the popularity of the front porch diminished in New Haven when air-conditioning units became affordable along with widespread availability of cable TV. Some say the back decks lured people away from the front; yet others say that the fear of crime did it. One thing is certain. At some point in Newhallville the front porch got a bad name. When I was growing up here during the 1970s the front porch seemed to be a place only to enter and leave the house and to converse with the guests whom you didn’t want to invite inside.

Today, on a beautiful spring morning, there’s nothing like sipping coffee on the front porch before beginning the workday. And in the afternoon the front porch in Newhallville serves as a distraction, a place to relax and read a book, connect with residents and invite friends into our neighborhood.

For the previous installment of the Sheffield Avenue diary, click here.