City Gate

At the corner of Walnut and Second Street.

A few of us spent several days’ vacation in Lakeside, Ohio last month and, like years past, it was a great time to move more slowly, think longer, and generally relax amidst other families seeking to unplug and make some lasting memories. 

As my teenaged daughter and her friend went off to their own fun, I quietly rode my bike in the early morning around the Mayberry, USA-like streets, taking in the quaint little cottages and scenery that mark it as a historic community on the edge of Lake Erie. All who find themselves here amble along at a different pace. 

My meandering seemed to always lead me back to the corner of Walnut and Second Street, where tables with umbrellas and bike racks invite any and all to relax and play the street games laid out. Of course, the local grill and pizza place are a draw, as well, as is the coffee shop serving ice cream. There’s a theater across the street, vacation shops left and right, and a general store called Marilyn’s where kids unload all their cash for candy and must-have items. There’s a clear view of the lake in the distance and the shuffleboard courts, too. Most everyone at Lakeside frequents this location at some point during the day. It's where I park myself. For me, it’s the de facto town center, the “city gates," if you will.

Life happens at the city gates.

In the shade of the table umbrella I spent hours in the convergence of life. Those wanting to see or be seen invariably made an appearance at one point or another. The conversations were easy, by friends and strangers alike. Most began the same way: “So, have you been here before?” The answer is always, “Oh sure, we’ve been coming here for years. We love it.” 

I was included in some great conversations simply by being in proximity. Some happened to be friends from Cincinnati, others from different parts of the country. It was the place to talk, a place to listen.

The corner of Walnut and Second Street

The courtesy golf cart taxi driver told me that, so far this summer, he’d ferried vacationers from 24 states and 5 nations, all making their way to this destination to unplug and unwind. Pretty cool, and without a doubt they all would spend time at the corner of Walnut and Second Street. 

Slurping on my smoothie, I thought about the importance of city gates, the meeting places, the places where life is done face to face. There really isn’t a substitute for it. Where people walk and talk, buy and sell, and generally see and are seen. There the community fabric is woven. 

In Jesus’s time, the city gates were often the places of access. There the city leaders would sit, and citizens were greeted, and strangers could inquire. It was the eyes and ears of the community. The broadcaster of comings and goings. Contracts were witnessed; judgements were rendered. Merchants bought and sold, the public came for the exchange, which affirmed their place in the life of that place.

It was great to feel part of this community life, even if only temporarily. 

When the kids needed something, usually some more money for candy, they didn’t need to look me up on the “Find my Friends” app on the phone, they just came to the corner of Walnut and Second.

Now, back home in my routine, I find myself wishing for more of that “temporary community” feel. Information-driven lives often lead to increasingly isolated communities, at least it does for me.

Jesus seems to hang out at city gates; I want to, too.

Where is your Walnut and Second?

(I’m checking out our local Farmer’s Market this weekend; it has a city gate vibe, and all the conversations besides.)