The passing parade of fancy

A reader with a scholarly bent sent us an inquiry: Why do Southern Californians insist on hiding behind fences?

Out of habit, perhaps.

“Don’t fence me in?” Forget that old wheeze. Long ago, we defined our freedom differently -- as the domain inside our fence. Indeed, the fence rises here as few places on Earth. In endless parallel lines, it marches through our neighborhoods without regard to race, religion, creed, gender, age, class, wealth or architectural taste. You could say that it defines life in this land of the single-family home, and therefore helps define us.

But not all of us.

Here and there -- almost startling for their rarity -- pocket communities of single-family homes exist without the fence. One such neighborhood rises along Rivo Alto Canal on Naples Island in the quiet waters of Los Alamitos Bay in the city of Long Beach. Not only has the standard 6-foot fence vanished, but for this circular, mile-long stretch of homes, the road has also disappeared. Shoulder to shoulder, squeezing to the edge of small lots, fashionable homes of every conceivable style and era inch up to a sidewalk.

An arm’s reach away on the other side of the sidewalk is the canal. Auto access for homeowners is via alleys behind.

Privacy? Phooey. More often than not, residents throw open their curtains to provide an intimate interface between public and private space.

Strolling by on the sidewalk, you can see what people are having for dinner and, if you’re interested in such things, what pattern of china they’re eating it on. Their parties spill over onto small entry patios facing the sidewalk, and the steady file of passersby finds itself sharing in the festive moon dust. Turn your head the other direction and you’re watching lovers cuddled in passing gondolas.

Without fences or cars, smiles pass from visitors to residents. In small-town fashion, you find yourself remarking about the weather, as in, “Lovely evening, isn’t it?”

“Yes, indeed.”

During Halloween, residents of Rivo Alto Canal expect nearly 1,000 trick-or-treaters.

During Christmas, the most welcoming time of all along the Naples walk, holiday lights shimmer off the still water of the canal, and echoes of caroling can be heard on ocean breezes. Even the boats docked along the canal wear holiday costumes.

Beyond the standard Christmas trees in picture windows and icicle lights hanging from eaves, residents take playful advantage of the pedestrian pace of their neighborhood -- adding animated displays that would never be appreciated from a passing car, including a vast miniature carnival that fills one porch, complete with a scaled-down Ferris wheel. Soaring palm trees are lighted to the sky, and one home virtually disappears behind a giant snow slide where St. Nick can be seen snowboarding in sunglasses and an aloha shirt.

Neighbors from Long Beach and Lakewood and Cerritos and Seal Beach make their way here. Inevitably, they find themselves wondering how much of their sense of community has been forfeited for the sake of the fence.

Tour groups from Japan and Germany come for their one chance, as the brochures promise, to actually “See how Southern Californians live.”

All of which suits residents like Rob Griffin just fine.

“There’s no place like it,” he says. “You’re very close to people -- close to your neighbors and close to those who visit. It’s a fact of life here, and it’s a good life.”