Pizza
I moved to Norwood, Ohio from St. Louis, Missouri in 2006 to be part of the intentional community centered around Vineyard Central Church. What had caught my attention was the idea of organizing one’s life in such a way that hospitality could be near the heart of it. Folks connected to this church were generous—there were lots of potlucks, there was lawnmower-borrowing, and someone might loan you their car at a moment’s notice. But I also noticed a strange disconnect.
Most of those who were part of the intentional community had moved to the neighborhood from elsewhere, as I had. But we were doing our thing in a place with a long history, and a sometimes painful one. Norwood’s GM plant had been the economic engine (so to speak) of the community until it was shut down in 1987. The church where Vineyard Central now met, St. Elizabeth’s, had been a Catholic church until three parishes had been consolidated into one; the gorgeous old building had fallen into disrepair, adding to a sense of neglect and abandonment.
Residents who had been around long before VC didn’t always know what to make of the intentional community folk. That meant there were two cultures uneasily coexisting on the same few blocks. What finally brought the old-timers and the newbies together? Pizza.
Pizza, and digging in the dirt.
When Robert Lockridge started planting gardens all around West Norwood, trundling between them with a wheelbarrow and spending many hours crouched down to plant and weed and tend and harvest, neighbors sauntered up to him to chat. They’d share stories of farms their families used to have, or they’d offer to share whatever vegetables their own gardens produced. And on Friday nights, when Erin would drag a chalkboard sign out in front of the café to announce the availability of pizza by the slice, those same neighbors wandered in, wanting to give the place a try.
Turns out pizza is a kind of universal language—unpretentious and accessible. Our neighbors might still have thought people like Robert and Erin belonged to a cult—but at least they thought their pizza was good.
