Once upon a time, in Warren, Pennsylvania, three wise men got together on a downtown porch.

Gary, Doug, and Gary enjoyed each other’s company just chatting about the weather, the town, sports and more. Guy stuff.

They wound up discussing how much fun it would be to start a Front Porch Day. What would it take to motivate folks to encourage their neighbors and friends to stop by, just to be neighborly? Even better, they might meet new people.

Tom, Joe and Pat joined in, all active doers who make things happen. Together, the half dozen promoted the idea, and it quietly grew. Imagine – sitting down with people in your everyday life, having a glass of lemonade, simply chatting and relaxing. This year, the sign that the idea had truly taken root was just that – a sign. For a week, it hung across Market Street at the entrance to town: Front Porch Days, Saturday 17th & Sunday 18th.

I loved the idea. But I don’t have a front porch, and I knew our cement stoop wouldn’t do. Only chipmunks chat there.

But that sign pushed me to do something about it. And Dear Richard was enthusiastic, even though we were a bit late to the game. Our invitation read: “On Front Porch Day, join us on our Back Deck.” We asked the invitees to come Saturday afternoon from 2 to 5 p.m. with a rain date of Sunday. We promised lemonade, homemade cookies and watermelon.

We managed to get our printer working in time to hand them out on Monday. We drove around an extended version of our neighborhood and took turns ringing doorbells or leaving the invites where we hoped they would be found. We detected enthusiasm!

I began baking an old favorite, Breakfast Cookies, which has a proven guy fan club. They’re chewy and sweet and actually good for you – well, at least as good as anything containing butter, sugar and flour can be. After large amounts of oatmeal, the equally measured add-ins are raisins, craisins, coconut, walnuts, and chocolate chips. They are great for breakfast dunking as well as anytime you need a sweet fix.

Our weather forecast was grim. On Monday, the chance of rain for Saturday, 96%. We hadn’t known that when we added the rain date. Sunday’s chance of rain was 100%. The forecasts remained the same on Tuesday. And Wednesday. Then Thursday. Friday’s outlook was much better: Saturday, rain 88%. Sunday 95%. Mother Nature has no sense of humor.

We’ve learned, though, that many dire forecasts wind up going north of us, taking the high winds and lightning strikes to downtown Cassadaga. Still hopeful, I just shrugged my shoulders and kept on baking. I got a little bit carried away, but there’s no such thing as too many homemade cookies.

Surprise! Saturday morning was sunny. The western sky, where all our weather comes from, was blue. I remained optimistic. I deadheaded the plants on the deck, made a few gallons of lemonade and set up the cookie trays.

Richard worked Saturday morning, arriving home to a longer than usual Honey-do list. He was good-natured about it because he liked the whole get-together idea. His last go-fer task was to bring one of the watermelons in from the outside fridge at 2 o’clock …so it remained cold… just as the first guests arrived.

Our neighbors came. We had a nice turnout despite everyone’s busy summer weekends. Weddings, family reunions, business conferences, children’s trips…lots of long-held plans and destinations. Of course. It’s summer. Everybody’s busy.

Our neighborhood is partially retired. But what was really nice was that everyone met new people and we all got to know our neighbors better. We learned about children’s careers and grandchildren’s activities and college plans. We talked hobbies. Books. Future plans. Vacations. Trips. And talk about town.

Thankfully, no one brought up politics. The beautiful afternoon remained friendly and light-hearted. I learned something I had suspected all along – that my neighbors are thoughtful and kind. We never expected they would come bearing gifts, but that’s what the gardeners among us did. They brought blueberry sauce, cucumbers, and zucchini. Now THAT’s a good trade for lemonade and cookies. The old friend who brought a bottle of wine did not claim it was from his garden.

We got so wrapped up in talking that neither Richard nor I thought of the uncut melon sitting in the kitchen since 2 p.m. Around 5 p.m., when people were starting to leave, my senior short-term memory kicked in. Oh no! Too late.

But we enjoyed ourselves so much that we might do it again next year. With an email list, and earlier planning, we might even remember to cut the watermelon. That would be the neighborly thing to do.

Contact Marcy O’Brien at moby.32@hotmail.com