Learning to Linger in Leisure Spaces

Leah Libresco
By | January 13, 2015

Our communal spaces haven’t vanished, exactly, claims Dean Barker of BoingBoing—they’ve been co-opted.

Barker reviews Ray Oldenburg’s book on gathering spaces, The Great Good Place, and realizes that our “Third Places”—spaces in which to be in community with others, apart from home or the office—still exist, but they’ve been twisted away from their original purpose. While Oldenburg identified 8 markers of a Third Place, Barker notices that one of them is particularly absent from our current public spaces.

  1. It’s neutral ground, meaning it doesn’t belong to any of the people who congregate there.
  2. It’s a “leveler,” meaning it’s inclusive and doesn’t differentiate based on social status.
  3. It exists for conversation.
  4. It’s accessible and accommodating.
  5. It has a group of “regulars” that meet there.
  6. It keeps a relatively low profile.
  7. It has a playful mood.
  8. It serves as a home away from home.

Barker identifies criterion number three as the absentee:

Think about this criterion in particular: “it exists for conversation.” This is where we’ve broken down, I think. Common places don’t exist for conversation anymore, they largely exist for working.

The average coffee shop is a quiet place, a library-like environment where people are heads down in their laptops. They’re a far cry from the classic London coffee house of the 17th century, where political debate raged, opinions flew wildly, and people bonded over a new-fangled beverage. We don’t interact, we co-work.

We seem to need excuses to inhabit communal spaces. Barker is right that working is the most common way to give ourselves permission to use public spaces, but some of the other “productive” goals that we pursue may be a little easier to subdue for the sake of restoring Oldenburg’s Third Places.

At my parish in Washington D.C., a pair of Dominican friars runs an “Adult Sunday School” program that teeters on the edge of satisfying Oldenburg’s criteria. When we meet in the rectory basement, we’re on neutral ground, the attendees are small-c catholic (people who wouldn’t have found each other otherwise), we’re there to ask questions, the location is accessible, the attendees are regular enough that even I’ve learned everyone’s names by now, it’s a cozy, low-profile environment, and the Dominican lecturers set the tone of earnest, joyful (and often playful) inquiry.

As for that last criterion—home away from home—there I think we fall a little flat. Although people show up a bit early to class after Mass, there’s very little lingering afterwards, even if there’s not another parish group waiting to use the room. Because our space exists only at a very specific time (10:30a.m. to noon on Sundays) it doesn’t have the drop-in, stick-around quality of a bar or a coffee shop or a living room.

The Sunday School class has served as the lead-in to extended, private, and casual social encounters for me. I’ve gone back to one of my classmate’s homes to bake scones or stuck around the neighborhood with another for lunch, but the afternoon has only ever been extended by leaving the space of our initial gathering.

I’ve observed the same pattern of scattering at most “goal-oriented” gatherings I’ve attended at nearly Third Places. My civic coding meet-ups disperse once our two hours of work are done, or, if socializing is to continue, we leave the space that we’ve shared for a louder, less intimate bar. Theatre talk-backs are closed with a final round of applause and the crowd rising in unison to leave.

I’m not suggesting that we bar the doors at the end of the structured portion of our events (that might be a little too coercive, not to mention illegal), but it’s worth finding ways to invite people to linger and to make themselves at-home after our goals have been met and we are “merely” enjoying each other’s company.

The idea is to glom on to the social spaces that exist and find ways to make them gateways to true Third Places. At my parish, it might be as simple as telling our class that we’ll always have the room until 2 p.m. on Sundays, and people might wind up packing lunch spontaneously so that they can stick around.

When I host an event of my own, I think that I’ll try holding some cookies or other baked good in reserve, and bringing it out at the official close of the event, to make it easy to stick around.

Even the work-dominated coffeeshops could have a go, by holding “EMP nights” that pair discounted drinks with a warning that, during the espresso happy hour, the staff will be unplugging the Wi-Fi for 30 minutes.

Restoring Third Places may not be a matter of finding so much the energy to start as opportunities to stay.

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  • Albert

    Wonderful post! (In two of the three or more senses: it pleased and excited me; it caused me to reflect on-wonder about-why this topic seems so out of place here)

    Don’t get me wrong, Leah. My wondering is a compliment to you. I fear that, considering my own communication habits, i.e. comfort in writing things and interest in reading opinion pieces, weblogs, etc., I may have lost (or at least misplaced) the human part of meeting others — the looking at them, their gestures, facial expressions, their tone, all of which both convey and inspire thought while at the same time evoking respect for each other as persons rather than as idea-makers or world-problem-solvers. I may have traded conversation time for more time in my head.

    And as bonus, a sort of wild card, you have provided an out for my guilt feelings about the weekly poker games I indulge in, where we laugh a lot but still manage to exchange ideas in between hands.

  • Dylan Pahman

    Great post.

    I had something of the opposite experience just last night. In Grand Rapids, MI we have a lot of microbreweries. My wife and I went to one last night and, so far as I can tell, it fit all 8 criteria—an experience that I think is still common here. We kept serendipitously running into friends; we could have privately kept to ourselves, but the venue is open enough that it is easy to notice people you know; we talked about work, family, philosophy, theology, politics; and so on. There’s even a group in town that hosts a regular pub theology night at one of the local breweries. And we might have lingered longer but we had to pick up our son from grandma’s before bedtime.

    On the other hand, I remember coffee houses having the same atmosphere at one time, but in my experience they have changed in exactly the way that you described (people keeping to themselves, not uncommonly working). Maybe the Third Places where you are haven’t so much as disappeared as migrated to other venues too.

  • http://newarkistheplace.com Thomas Mullally

    This is great, you have noticed something very important. One by one we need to break the grip of productivism on our lives.

  • Ever

    Hi, Leah, Come see us at Trinity House Cafe in Leesburg! We are a Third Place that opened almost four months ago… I used to hang out with the Dominicans in DC too! http://www.trinityhousecafe.com Thanks for your great article! Ever

  • LeahLibresco

    Thanks for the invite, but I don’t know how to drive, so I am (prudently?) limited to neighborhood, walkable third places!

  • http://likeachildquieted.blogspot.com/ ichen

    I’m late to the comments, but thought I’d still throw in my two cents.

    The only thing about bars and pubs is that they often exclude those who can’t drink: either for legal purposes or personal (such as a recovering alcoholic). That said, there are ways around that. In Ann Arbor, the owners of a coffeeshop just opened a “Dry Bar,” the idea being a bar without alcohol. It’s a space for conversation and connection in a bar-like atmosphere (there are other drinks and snacks). Like the places mentioned in Leah’s article, the space only exists for a certain amount of time (currently they are only open once every two weeks), but it’s maybe a step towards reclaiming Third Spaces.