Loneliness Is an Orange County Cul-de-Sac

When my husband, children and I selected our home in the Eastbluff section of Newport Beach, the first promising aspect was the cul-de-sacs. Safety features aside, I always assumed people who lived on cul-de-sacs were, well, neighborly. After two years of observing the Joneses, I’ve learned that the Orange County definition of neighbor is more distant.

Don’t get me wrong. People will always wave, perhaps stop and greet the children, let you pet their dog or inquire about their latest remodeling project. But the our-home-is-your-home spirit is being shifted by some trends that are on the rise in local communities.

For example, for the past two Halloweens, we’ve put out loads of candy and scary decorations in anticipation of the 20 or so children who live on our block. I figured the doorbell would ring all night long; after all, three homes nearby have sets of twins in the prime trick-or-treating age. So far, the goodies have all but gone stale. Drive around our block on Oct. 31 and see lights out and houses practically boarded up. In fact, when we took our own kids out in costume, the neighbors who were home commented, “Gosh, help yourselves! You’re the only ones we’ve had tonight.”

Later, another neighbor solved the mystery for me. “You see, Jenny, kids in this neighborhood don’t want to trick or treat on their own block. They all go down to the island,” referring to Balboa Island.

Frankly, I didn’t get it. When I was young (and I’m not that old), visiting one’s neighbors, showing off costumes and sipping cider next door was the whole idea of Halloween. Why on earth anyone wants to get in the car, travel and approach total strangers for candy is beyond me.

Back to the cul-de-sac. I always had dreamed of letting my kids play in the street with the basketball, bike or latest toy craze. Again, with more than 20 kids on our block, I figured the streets would be packed after school, allowing my children to socialize with the people who share grass with us. Not so. With the inundation of sports and activities, our block looks like the Twilight Zone on any given afternoon.

Children now convene via organizations away from home to “play.” Occasionally, you’ll see the retired residents watering their gardens, but nonexistent are the Big Wheels, jump ropes and hopscotch games that lend simple fun to a child’s life. Now I feel pressured to sign up, pay and again drive my child to fun.

Occasionally, I’ve looked to the outside for a sense of community. Knowing families who live across town, I’ve been inclined to drop by and see if my fellow moms and their kids are up for an hour at the park. Except then came the gated community blocker. Security guards don’t recognize me and are reluctant to “let me in” without being on the guest list. Now those friendships are by appointment only. So much for spontaneity.

The one saving grace in my neighborhood is the community pool. Paying association dues can be a burden, but come summer, people slowly emerge and can be rather social by the water we all pay for. Each season I hope maybe this will be the year we’ll make more of a connection, have a barbecue, perhaps even share a cup of coffee when the kids resume school. With the autumn breeze, however, comes my reality check. As well-intentioned as folks are about “getting together,” once the temperature drops below 70 degrees we never see those people again.

Orange County living comes with some incredible perks--the weather, the shopping, the proximity to the beaches and mountains all at once. But a privileged life does come with its own burden. People are so busy, consumed with their own lives, that they’re strangers with their neighbors across the street. I know of some residents who have seen each other across the driveway for years and yet don’t know each other’s names. Not exactly a place you’d want to grow up in. Call me old-fashioned, but I’m still holding out for the all-American neighborhood experience. The block parties, the Christmas gatherings, the trick-or-treating at home.

I was surprised to read that Benjamin Franklin said, “Love your neighbor, but don’t pull down your hedge.” Perhaps he still feared the wrath of the redcoats. There is so much to be gained from developing a sense of community in one’s neighborhood. Isn’t that what the American Dream is really all about?