Kirstin Mitchell shares about how she built community amongst friends.
Joy, for me, is a musty, rented house last remodeled in the eighties. It has uncomfortable beds, dingy carpet and spider webs on the windows. The kitchen is sparsely equipped – plenty of plates but never enough silverware.
The bathrooms have drains that clog, paper thin doors and exactly one hand towel each. The decor is blue and green, with artwork that says “Life is Better at the Beach.” Across the street is another house that is, for all intents and purposes, indistinguishable.
And for the past two decades, these houses have accommodated 14 adults, 16 children and a whole lot of joy. It started in 2002, when eight of us arrived at the UC Berkeley campus for math camp, a quantitative refresher for our MBA program. Over time, we coalesced into a close-knit group, and soon the first annual getaway was planned. In the early years, it was a couples’ affair, full of wine and laughter, card games and sleep.
Then the babies arrived, one after another, 16 of them over the course of six years. Sleep was scarce and days were choreographed around meals, naps and baths. As the children grew, there were giant holes to be excavated, waves to be ridden, frisbee games to be played and arguments to be moderated. There were tacos on Saturdays, burgers on Sundays and roasted marshmallows by the campfire.
