Neighborhoods, Developments and New Responsibilities
The eight years I lived in my townhouse outside of Washington, DC, I introduced myself to two neighbors. People came and went, we might say "Hi" occasionally, but I didn't know any one. It was a planned development, organized, ruled so much I couldn't even change the color of my front door without committee approval. It had good property values, cookie cutter houses and very little personality and no warmth.
In 2003, I moved back home to Michigan for a number of reasons. One of the strongest was that I wanted a home in a neighborhood, not a house in a development. So, I bought a little 1950's bungalow on a street where every house is different. I moved in with my two cats and my sister.
The first day I was here the next door neighbor lady, whom I refer to as Gladys Kravitz -- although she is much more kind and warm -- came over. She introduced herself and gave me a plate of cookies, interogatted me about my life in a way that would make SVU proud and handed over a little booklet that was the street's directory. It had the names (mom, dad, kids), addresses and phone numbers of everyone who lived on my block, about 20 familes or so. I was a bit taken aback, but it was oddly nice and the cookies were good, so I didn't think too much about it.
Summer came and Gladys came around to get me to sign the annual petition that allowed for the closing of our street for a block party. That Sunday most of the families brought a dish to pass, sat in the middle of the street, grilled and ate and chatted. By the end of that day, I knew the names of all people that lived around me. It was the first time I knew my surrounding neighbors by name since I was eight years old.
There are good and bad things about having neighbors. I renovated last year and everyday came home to my contractor telling me who had been in to knock on the door and ask for "just a peek!". I work out in my garden for peace and quiet, but must first chat with the 5 people who see me out, before I'm allowed my quiet. Sometimes it grates on my nerves, because I am not that social a person. Some of the time I'm grateful that someone cares. Mostly, I feel a bit out of place and not sure I fit in. I'm not certain I'm a good neighbor and don't want to be one of those people from Washington.
When the ambulance rolled up across the street after a guy fell down his stairs last year, everyone was out in 30 seconds. Nice to know he'd be fine and better to offer assistance to his family while they dealt with hospital visits. There was no hiding behind curtains and wondering, we asked how Chip was and what the family needed and did the fireman want coffee?
Last week the elderly lady on the corner had an ambulance visit. She's in her late 60s/early 70s and has unfortunately developed what is probably a fatal illness. She has always been very nice to chat with on my way home from town and always said hello. Last night her buddy from across the street, another elderly widow, called. Mrs. English asked if I may want two more cats, because Joanie couldn't take care of them from the hospital and they don't know when she'll be home. Although she is very ill, the deal was that I would take them only until she is ready to have them come home. If she doesn't return, then they'll stay with me. It will ease Joanie's mind, her family won't have to put them down or donate them somewhere where they might disappear; and the cats will be fed and sheltered.
So, I talked it over with my sister last night. Kidding about adding more cats is one thing, going from two to four in 48 hours is something else. But in the end we said "Yes", because really, what else could we do? I pray for Joanie that she gets well, and if she can't get well that she be unworried and comforted. I hope for her cats to acclimate to this new house after 10 years with the same caregiver, they need a home. I'm sure I'll love them and it will relieve an elderly woman's worries.
After all, it IS the neighborly thing to do.
In 2003, I moved back home to Michigan for a number of reasons. One of the strongest was that I wanted a home in a neighborhood, not a house in a development. So, I bought a little 1950's bungalow on a street where every house is different. I moved in with my two cats and my sister.
The first day I was here the next door neighbor lady, whom I refer to as Gladys Kravitz -- although she is much more kind and warm -- came over. She introduced herself and gave me a plate of cookies, interogatted me about my life in a way that would make SVU proud and handed over a little booklet that was the street's directory. It had the names (mom, dad, kids), addresses and phone numbers of everyone who lived on my block, about 20 familes or so. I was a bit taken aback, but it was oddly nice and the cookies were good, so I didn't think too much about it.
Summer came and Gladys came around to get me to sign the annual petition that allowed for the closing of our street for a block party. That Sunday most of the families brought a dish to pass, sat in the middle of the street, grilled and ate and chatted. By the end of that day, I knew the names of all people that lived around me. It was the first time I knew my surrounding neighbors by name since I was eight years old.
There are good and bad things about having neighbors. I renovated last year and everyday came home to my contractor telling me who had been in to knock on the door and ask for "just a peek!". I work out in my garden for peace and quiet, but must first chat with the 5 people who see me out, before I'm allowed my quiet. Sometimes it grates on my nerves, because I am not that social a person. Some of the time I'm grateful that someone cares. Mostly, I feel a bit out of place and not sure I fit in. I'm not certain I'm a good neighbor and don't want to be one of those people from Washington.
When the ambulance rolled up across the street after a guy fell down his stairs last year, everyone was out in 30 seconds. Nice to know he'd be fine and better to offer assistance to his family while they dealt with hospital visits. There was no hiding behind curtains and wondering, we asked how Chip was and what the family needed and did the fireman want coffee?
Last week the elderly lady on the corner had an ambulance visit. She's in her late 60s/early 70s and has unfortunately developed what is probably a fatal illness. She has always been very nice to chat with on my way home from town and always said hello. Last night her buddy from across the street, another elderly widow, called. Mrs. English asked if I may want two more cats, because Joanie couldn't take care of them from the hospital and they don't know when she'll be home. Although she is very ill, the deal was that I would take them only until she is ready to have them come home. If she doesn't return, then they'll stay with me. It will ease Joanie's mind, her family won't have to put them down or donate them somewhere where they might disappear; and the cats will be fed and sheltered.
So, I talked it over with my sister last night. Kidding about adding more cats is one thing, going from two to four in 48 hours is something else. But in the end we said "Yes", because really, what else could we do? I pray for Joanie that she gets well, and if she can't get well that she be unworried and comforted. I hope for her cats to acclimate to this new house after 10 years with the same caregiver, they need a home. I'm sure I'll love them and it will relieve an elderly woman's worries.
After all, it IS the neighborly thing to do.