My wife and I are blessed to live in our neighborhood, a part of Seattle called Madrona that calls itself “The Peaceable Kingdom.” We live on a block with neighbors we love. We have potluck dinner parties every month. We share rides and tools. We exchange home repair know-how, pie crust recipes, general advice. We give and get the tomatoes from our gardens and the plums from our trees. We walk across the street just to visit.
It’s a little idyll of neighborliness. And if I’m honest about it, it’s also a little cocoon of homogeneity and privilege.
