One Street, Nine Countries, One Community

Last spring, I sat through a series of Board of Education meetings that both shocked and saddened me. In the wake of several disturbing incidents, parents and students were claiming that our community was intolerant of religious and ethnic differences. They called on the school district to take steps to protect students, punish offenders and establish new guidelines governing speech in our schools.

In my 36 years in Scarsdale, I could not remember a time when the community felt so fraught and divided. I was having trouble discerning whether this was the result of the actions of a few outliers, a movement against the values we hold dear, or simply an echo of the national political dialogue.

Reflecting on the nature of our Village, I also acknowledged the changing composition of the community. While Scarsdale had always welcomed people from around the world, in recent years it seemed to be becoming even more international.

On my one short street, I realized that we had families from every corner of the globe.

The problem was, I didn’t know many of these people — or have any idea what they thought about the prevailing sentiment in town.

What to do? Why not try to meet everyone on Colvin Road?

In an effort to connect with the younger set, I stopped a woman walking her two daughters to Greenacres School and floated the idea of a block party. She was warm and enthusiastic. I then knocked on the door of a relatively new neighbor and she liked the idea, too.

We decided to have a get-together on our front lawns. We set a date, emailed the people we knew, and printed flyers to distribute in the mailboxes along the street.

We were bowled over by the response. Everyone wanted to come and offered to bring food, drinks, chairs and whatever else was needed. In fact, everyone we asked said, “Yes.”

In the intervening weeks, school started, my neighbor was called to Mumbai and returned home sick, and I hosted the Jewish holidays. Then the morning of the party arrived with torrential rain, flooding the Bronx River Parkway and even canceling the farmers market.

We quickly pivoted and decided to hold the party indoors, with drinks set up on our covered porch. But, lo and behold, an hour before the party, the sun came out.

At 3 p.m., neighbors streamed in carrying cheese boards, cakes and spicy beef and broccoli. The nine kids, ranging from fourth grade through middle school, convened next door, where we spotted them jumping on the trampoline together. Left to their own devices, they played for hours without incident.

Meanwhile, the adults filled out name tags and quickly fell into conversation. The longest-term residents had purchased their house in the 1980s; the newest had arrived only last summer. We ranged in age from grandparents to parents of elementary school children, with every decade in between represented.

There was lots to say. So much to say, in fact, that the party, originally scheduled for 3 to 5 p.m., stretched all the way to 7 o’clock.

People discussed their historic homes, water in the basement, grandchildren recently born to children who grew up on Colvin Road, and memories of those who lived here before us. Was the house on the corner really designed by the architect who designed the Lincoln Memorial? Was the two-by-three-foot, very deep dunking pool in another yard still there? And what should we do about the lawn?

We noted that all the homes on the block, built from 1912 through the 1920’s were originals. Though they have been renovated inside and modernized, not one has been knocked down.

After much chatter, we discovered that among the 15 homes represented were people with roots in nine countries: Nepal, China, India, France, Germany, Singapore, England and, of course, the United States. We discovered shared passions, including tennis and travel, and learned that many of our neighbors work in technology and AI.

The French au pair from one house struck up a lively conversation in French with a recent college graduate who lives across the street. Was romance in the air? Who knows who you’ll meet at a block party?

There was a spirit of pride in the shared experience of living on a historic block, in a special town with a vibrant sense of community.

Everyone left with a smile on their face and a promise to hold these get-togethers far more frequently.

The next time I hear someone harping about intolerance and division, I’ll invite them to Colvin Road.