In my grandmother's town, where I spent last weekend, everybody knows everybody else. I'm told that neighbors schedule their evening walks so they pass my cousins' house in time for trumpet practice.

The town got together two years ago to save the public pool in the park.

And it feels safe. Years ago, when they were still little, my cousins left their house and walked across the park to my grandmother's house alone.

I don't think I'd actually want to live out in the country. I'd miss the activity of the city, the restaurants and the theater.

But I wouldn't survive--even just for three months over the summer--without the opportunity to seek refuge, peace and quiet in the country.

Six years ago my parents moved from a suburban tract house where, even with yards, neighbors are just a stone's throw away, to a house (though still in suburban California) on three-quarters of an acre and backing up to a horse trail.

At the time, I thought the bigger house and the bigger lot were just cool.

Now, for the first time, I understand why they really did it.