Seeing people you know

When we first moved to Lilburn, Ga., way back in “aught three,” we developed a metric to identify when it would feel like home:

My Darling Beloved and I knew Lilburn was home when we took our then two-year-old son, Barron, to Bruster’s for an ice cream and saw someone we knew.

I can’t recall when it happened for the first time exactly, but it was sometime after Barron enrolled in Smoke Rise Baptist Church Weekday School and before he started kindergarten at Knight Elementary School. There were steps along the way that helped us achieve that milestone, including meeting our neighbors Trick or Treating in our neighborhood, completing a few classmate birthday party cycles, and saving our pennies to eat out at the same familiar local restaurants on a semi-regular basis.

Last weekend we ventured to Lawrenceville to see some of our youngest’s friends and fellow performers in a production of “Annie.” In addition to being delighted by the show, we ran into Lilburn friends from the old neighborhood. Our reaction was nothing short of joy.

When we found our seats as the orchestra struck up the overture, my Darling Beloved, beaming, said “Isn’t it fun to see people you know when you go out?”

I reminded her of the Bruster’s-ometer from our early days in Gwinnett County, and we agreed that it’s a good feeling to know your neighbors, catch up with them when you’re out and about, and feel like you live in a community.

The number of people we know in our community has grown exponentially in 23 years of living here. Our children and their activities were the gateway to nearly all of those acquaintances, and it grew over time. From pre-school to school to Cub Scouts to Boy Scouts to marching band to theatrical performances, families we met and volunteered alongside created this great circle of friends from shared experiences.

When we see people we know now, it’s not just recognition, it’s shared history. Take last Saturday night, for example. Taylor and her girls have been some of our longest friends. They lived in our neighborhood, and their girls got off the bus at our house after school for several years so Carla could watch them before their parents got off work. Kate and Ellie became like sisters to our boys in all the ways that would be normal, including the arguing over playing trains and stuffed animals and making up songs and puppet shows.

And then there was Mrs. M, the now world famous Susie Middlebrooks who taught all three of our boys at Smoke Rise. She led their Bible story time and taught them music. When we still participated in Trick or Treat, we always made it a point to go by and see Mrs. M and let her “hug our necks.” Taylor and Mrs. M live next door to each other. It’s the kind of social connection that you form when you are part of a community.

Of course, church is a big way folks in the South expand their circle. We have been driving over to Duluth/John’s Creek for church for years. When we made that choice, we slowed down the process of putting down deeper roots in Lilburn, but that list of activities I mentioned above certainly corrected that problem.

We’re down to only one child left in school. He’s at the Gwinnett School of the Arts in Lawrenceville, which is broadening our definition of community to include more of Georgia’s second most populous county. Like marching band, which I covered last week, the local theater scene offers a great group of friends for our youngest and for us.

We particularly enjoy being out with Carlton when someone we don’t know recognizes him from a show he’s been in. They don’t ask for an autograph or a selfie, but we’re glad his talent gave someone enough joy that they were willing to approach and tell him.

A few years back, I took over the grocery shopping duties from my Darling Beloved’s overflowing plate. I rather enjoy it, and sometimes even check my time to see how efficient I can be. It’s like I always say, if it’s worth doing it’s worth measuring. Without fail, I see folks I know at the grocery store, and not just because we were band parents with the store manager and the pharmacist. 

It’s been long enough that we definitely qualify as Lilburn locals now. We’ve conquered  “Thrillburn,” and we’re working on Lawrenceville. We always see people we know at the Bruster’s.

It really is great to feel like you live in a community, and Lilburn definitely feels like home now. There’s just something special about running into folks unexpectedly, hugging their neck and asking about “your mommer n’em.”