Plugging in to the neighborhood

THE LIGHTS went out the other day, along with the computers, the stove, the barbecue and everything else electric we depend on for a typical family evening.

Luckily for our blacked-out neighborhood, it was a cool evening, a couple of hours before dark. With daylight too faded to read or play a board game, we decided to go for a walk.

We emerged from our front door onto a street transformed. Our neighbors had likewise broken free from their houses and were crossing the street to chat with other neighbors. Kids, deprived of their video games and TV, had pulled out their scooters and balls for some street games. We greeted and talked with people with whom we normally just exchange waves.

The main topic of conversation, once we’d quickly disposed of wondering when the power might come back, was how nice it was to be out on a leisurely summer evening having a friendly time with each other instead of staring at computer monitors or video screens.

Up the hill stood a neighbor who moved onto the block four years ago, just four doors away from us. But we’d never met. He’d been watching sports on his computer when the screen blipped blank. Our two kids played with his Yorkie while we got to know each other. It turned out his older girl was just one year younger than our son -- and yet they didn’t know each other. We offered to help with rides to school in the fall and agreed on the need for a block party to create more moments like this.

Ours is not some unfriendly suburb where no one knows anyone and cars rule the day. There are borrowings and carpools and exchanges of news and favors. Plenty of people, including us, “walk the loop,” a circle of streets around the neighborhood. But those are walks with a purpose; we have just enough time to get a little exercise, or give the dogs their due. The leisure -- in this case, the forced leisure -- of wandering and dawdling and taking time for others is a rarity.

Around the corner, we met for the first time the couple who have lived on the hillside behind and right above our house for all 18 years we’ve been there. The wife said she has admired for many years the sukkah we build in the backyard each fall -- a three-sided shelter to celebrate a Jewish festival. She even noticed that we didn’t get around to it last year. But she never knew who we were.

It was dark by the time we returned to the house. We lighted candles and talked about how pleasant our evening without modern conveniences had been. It was too early for bed and too dark for anything else. So we did what any newly enlightened family of the 21st century would do: We watched “Inside Man” on my son’s portable DVD player.

Karin Klein