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On Tuesday, The Sprawl held its second Conversation Cafe of the year at Congress Coffee in Greenview.

This time around, I was drawn to the theme of local conviviality.

What is conviviality? My trusty Canadian Oxford Dictionary defines it as friendly; sociable and lively; festive. It suggests a certain warmth and welcome, along with a sense of delight. An atmosphere where people want to be. A place of cheerful encounter.

How do we make our neighbourhoods more convivial?

Tyson Bankert from the Community Development Learning Initiative (CDLI) kicked us off, and then I shared some brief reflections. I drew a little from the book The Abundant Community, in which the authors lament how our communities have become incompetent—by which they don’t mean stupid, but that we no longer to look within our neighbourhoods for what we need, turning to the marketplace and professionals instead.

A counsellor can help with mental health. A mechanic can fix our car. Social workers can take care of the vulnerable among us. And if we realize we're short one egg for a recipe, we'd rather just go to the store than knock next door and ask for an egg.

But what if our neighbours can help out? What if we knocked on the door more often? And what if this was, far from being a drain on our neighbours, a life-giving invitation for them—and, perhaps, the seeds of local conviviality?

What if the retiree down the street has something to teach the teenager about fixing a car? What if we have something to offer our neighbours? And what if something as simple as asking for an egg for a batch of cookies starts a conversation?

One person who has been involved in community work for years said—confessed, more or less!—that he had never asked a neighbour for an egg. As we talked, numerous people described having similar hang-ups. We don’t want to “bother” our neighbours, preferring to just figure it out ourselves—even those of us who talk a good game about community.

It seems easier somehow. But it's also emptier.

This became something of a running joke throughout the evening: just ask for the damn egg.

People shared stories of how, when people asked them for something they could help with, it made them feel more connected. For one person, it was as simple as a stranger asking for directions to the CTrain. Another had a surplus of apples on their front yard tree and was thrilled when people would “steal” them. At one point someone said: I would love a neighbour to ask me for an egg!

At bottom, we all want to contribute to something bigger than ourselves. “The stories of a competent community are a narrative about our talents, properties and gifts,” write John L. McKnight and Peter Block in The Abundant Community.

“Communities become competent when people tell stories that link to their gifts. You want to know our story? Let me tell about how six of us came together and built that shelter in the park. How we had one person who seemed to be so mean but relented in the face of our kindness, who softened when we got to know them.”

My biggest takeaway from the night was when someone was describing how she has ideas for routinely getting neighbours together, but can sometimes get hung up because she wants it to be perfect. We often have an idea of how it should be but the ideal gets in the way of action, because we can never precisely set up what we have in mind.

What she said next was perhaps the headline to sum up the whole conversation: IT DOESN’T HAVE TO BE PERFECT!

When you think of those who have been most hospitable—and convivial!—in your life, is it the cleanliness of their bathroom that stands out? The perfection? Their complete orderliness? I doubt it.

For me, the difference-makers have been people, far from perfect, who have let life in—making space at the table, or their yard, amidst the messiness of their lives.

Maybe it's that simple.

In other news, with it being spring and all, I've got some boxes kicking around that I want to deal with. Boxes of Sprawl merch!

We've got some crewneck sweatshirts, t-shirts and hats. I always have intentions of figuring out an ongoing way to sell this stuff but never seem to get around to it. So how about this: swing by The Sprawl's Spring Garage Sale next Wednesday, April, 16, anytime from 4 to 6 p.m.

We're at 1510 Kensington Road N.W., kitty corner from Chicken on the Way, on the bottom floor. The entrance is on the south side of the building facing Kensington Road (not the stairs going up to the vacuum shop).

For the past few weeks, Meghan Lett has been interning at The Sprawl as she finishes her journalism diploma program at SAIT. Next week is her final week with us before she heads home to Saskatoon, so come on by, say hello/goodbye to Meghan, and pick up some sweet Sprawl swag.

For fun, we put together a letterpress print this week. We'll ink up a press on Wednesday so you can pull your own print while you're here!

Finally, don't forget about The Sprawl's upcoming Jane's Walk on Saturday, May 3... which is not actually a walk, but a group bike ride. It'll be a trip into the history of urban development by the Glenmore Reservoir.

We’ll explore where the Glenmore shoreline was—and wasn’t—protected as new neighbourhoods sprang up in the 1960s and ’70s. We’ll roll through Calgary’s first laneless subdivision. And we’ll revisit the dubious dealings that allowed the city to dam the land in the first place in the 1930s. You can register here.

We have been working hard on another spring/summer project that should be ready to roll out by then. I am very excited to show it to you... it's been months in the making!

Finally, if you value the work The Sprawl does for Calgary, pitch in to support our work!

Jeremy Klaszus is the founder and editor of The Sprawl.