c. 1998 Religion News Service

(Dale Hanson Bourke is publisher of RNS and the mother of two sons.)

UNDATED _ To our family, summer is the reward for making it through the rest of the year.

It’s not just that another school year has ended and the pace begins to slow. It’s that we are fortunate enough to live an entirely different life in the summer; a life we fantasize about during the rest of the year.

As soon as school lets out, we pack up the station wagon and head for our summer community, about an hour’s drive outside Washington, D.C. There life is simple, relaxed.

The nearly 100-year-old cluster of cottages near the Chesapeake Bay is a treasured getaway for families from both Washington and Baltimore. When spending summers there, many who work in the city add a considerable amount of time to their daily commute, but I don’t know of anyone who thinks it’s not worth it.

The homes, for the most part, are indeed cottage-like. Most don’t have air-conditioning, and some still rely on weather-beaten wood shutters for screens. Strict building restrictions limit owners from expanding or embellishing their homes much beyond needed repairs.

But most of the time people are outside anyway. The water is a constant temptation for swimming, boating and crabbing. The forest invites turtle hunts and hikes. Spontaneous baseball games seem to break out most evenings and everyone walks or bikes from activity to activity.

But what truly makes this summer place so magical is the sense of community experienced while living there. You discover this the first time you arrive at the beach and find everyone greets you and introduces themselves.

You notice it when strangers drive your children home after a bike accident and when children you don’t know come to your door to ask you to check their scalp for ticks.

After a while, you begin to realize everyone waves or greets you as they pass by; no one averts a gaze like in the city.

Some who live in our summer community hold important, responsible jobs in their other life. But for the most part, they leave that identity behind when they return here. Throwing your weight around is not a good idea in our little settlement; people remember the bullies.

And even though everyone doesn’t get along perfectly, most value the peace of the community over individual rights. We overlook transgressions and go out of our way to help one another.

We all pitch in to help with the annual corn roast, and nearly everyone has a volunteer job of some sort. Those who volunteer for more than one job earn a great deal of respect.

No one honks while driving in our community and I have never heard a raised voice in public. Private conversations carry through open windows so easily that most have learned to speak in more hushed tones, even in our homes.

Our community is very aware of the births in some families and the deaths in others. My children know elderly folks and babies. They see the circle of life in living color and recognize that it can be fleeting.

My children have been encouraged by people I don’t even know and occasionally reprimanded by adults they don’t know. Although they would be surprised if a stranger spoke to them in the city, they never think a thing about it when it happens in our little summer community.

One day while spraying my roses with pesticides, a young woman came up to me and asked me to switch to one more friendly to the environment. I thanked her and changed brands the next day, surprising myself with my desire to comply.

But here’s a lesson I’ve learned over the years of living in our summer place: Community is worth compromise. It’s worth putting aside pride and individual rights, personal preferences and too-busy-to-be troubled lives. And it’s worth going out of your way for someone older or younger and working to be friends with people who are not like you at all.

What our family loves about the summer most is that for these few months we walk away from city anonymity to become part of a small town. We care about others and they care about us. We work at being good citizens and strive to keep the peace. Sometimes we even surprise ourselves with our ability to compromise for the common good.

Our summers add a richness to our lives that we rarely experience the rest of the year. And when we return to town, we find ourselves trying just a little harder to recreate that sense of community.

In our busy lives, most Americans find it increasingly difficult to cultivate a sense of belonging. It’s easier to”do your own thing”and”look out for number one.”But experiencing community makes individualism look like a poor excuse for happiness.

Every summer, my family is reminded of that for a few short, joyous months.

MJP END BOURKE