Front porches have different meanings now, reader tells Susan Harrison Wolffis

Susan Harrison Wolffis' column, "Porches, true windows on the world," shared her nostalgia for the front porch of her Grandmother Harrison's house. For her the front porch was a place where imagination took root as well as a place to meet the neighbors.

Harrison Wolffis wrote:

When I think of my grandmothers house -- never pretentious, never fancy, never the best house on the block but a good neighbor nonetheless -- it was always a beehive of activity: a swarm of grandchildren, and a few favorite cousins added in.

Then we came along, the grandchildren.

We took up where our fathers left off. We played in the same backyard. We climbed the same trees. We chased each other and made up games with no rules, or rules too complicated to follow, so there was inevitable anarchy.

My girl-cousins and I dressed up in our grandmothers clothes, transforming ourselves into ladies-in-waiting and other elaborate characters, and then because we felt the need to share, we left the boys to whatever they were doing, and we walked up and down the sidewalk in our get-ups -- theres no other word for it -- showing off.

And when we needed a break, we landed on the porch.

That porch was both our window on the world and our safe haven, all in one.

birchtree11 thinks some people ignore their front porches because of danger:

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Front porches have different meanings now, reader tells Susan Harrison Wolffis