I've been cooking dinner for the last twenty minutes, during which time two special things have taken place. First, our doorbell rang and when I went to answer it (flanked by three children) I came face to face with yet another kind-looking woman. In her hand she held a petition. "Wow!" I thought, "My first petition of the neighborhood!" I was interested to see what kind of issue she was canvassing for.
How lovely then, to discover that she was a neighbor from down the block collecting signatures for a new Farmer's Market to be held just three blocks from our house in a local church parking lot! "It will be mainly produce," she described, "Just fresh, locally grown food."
Have I mentioned how much I *love* this new place?
The lady's name was Kay* and she welcomed us quite warmly to the block. "I have to say," she confided, "I was so happy to hear children inside of this house when you came to the door. I'm not sure if you knew the people who lived here before you, but we often wondered if they were in a witness protection program because they NEVER went outside, they never participated in any of our events. They were always in the house."
Kay is not the first of our new neighbors to mention the isolationist tendencies of the prior tenants of this house. Oh well, they may have kept to themselves but they can't have been too bad because this house actually feels full of great energy and an almost tangible happiness. Maybe the house itself is happy that we're here!
After signing Kay's petition and exchanging pleasantries, I returned to my post at the kitchen sink and had just begun to rinse vegetables when I heard a car pull up in front of our house. I looked out the window and as it turned out, the car was actually just turning into the driveway directly across our street. "That's odd," I thought, "Milton* has to be at least 80 years old and I know he doesn't drive anywhere, nor have any family in town. I wonder who is pulling into his driveway!"
Milton is a stooped older man across the street who lives alone and appears to have a touch of dementia. I first saw him before we had even signed the lease here, when I had come to check out the exterior of the property before setting up a meeting with the property manager. He was gardening in front of his home wearing a long sleeved white button down shirt, socks and shoes... and his underpants, which happened to be very short silk boxers.
My family has a lot of recent personal experience with Alzheimer's disease under our belts, so rather than feeling shocked I felt great empathy for the man. I waved at him but he did not respond, just slunk slowly back into his house.
A few days later, I pulled up to our new house with signed lease in hand and saw a glamourous looking woman with dark hair wearing jogging pants pulling the large city trash bins up his driveway.
"Hi!" I waved. "Do you live here?"
"No," she came down to where I was standing.
"Oh, well we do! We've just signed our lease."
"That's great! The man who lives here is Milton, he is an older gentleman and I keep my eye out for him. His wife died about fourteen years ago and he really keeps to himself, but I feel for the guy. He has no-one here to care for him and his only child lives in New Mexico... doesn't EVER come to visit. I try to help him where I can, I've given him a ride home a few times. Once he dropped his wallet in front of the bus stop and he couldn't bend down to pick it up so I helped him."
She looked around and then in a softer tone of voice, "Milton isn't actually a very friendly man - I think he and his wife knew your next door neighbors a bit, but he tends to keep to himself. I just really feel badly for him; it must be awful to be old and so alone. That's why I had four kids," she smiled, "Hopefully at least one of them will want to check in on me now and again when I am an old lady."
We chatted a little more and then parted company, but not before exchanging a promise to stop by and say hello when we passed each other's homes. "Would you mind watching out for him a little?" she asked, "It would make me feel better to know that someone was keeping an eye on him."
"We'd love to," I said.
This then constitutes all that I currently know about Milton but it was certainly enough to cause me to pay close attention when the black car traveled up Milton's driveway this afternoon. "Who could be driving that jazzy black BMW?" I wondered. "Is it his son? Is it a friend? Is someone taking advantage of his driveway?"
I watched closely until the driver's side door swung open and then found myself smiling and nodding. "Of course," I murmured. "That makes perfect sense." Ducking out of the driver's door was the same beautiful woman with her glossy mane of dark hair. I watched as she made her way around the car and carefully opened up the passenger side door, from which emerged stooped, white haired Milton. "Where did she find him this time?" I wondered out loud.
For the second time in 30 minutes, I found myself so happy to be living in this neighborhood. The people here really do care about each other and it shows through... from their myriad acts of kindness toward each other to their definite concern for the environment.
Since we moved in last week we've already received a welcome gift of Valentine's candy from our neighbor across the alley and also a warm welcome from our neighbors to the left of Milton's house - whose expansive home features a large neon peace sign glowing over the front door. This is more neighborly behavior than we've experienced in the past three years or longer.
Having such nice neighbors inspires me to want to BE a good neighbor.
In the past few years my family may have fallen into the habit of defensive neighborliness - anxiety over our children creating too much noise, resentment each time our neighbors came by to complain, frustration that they expressed unhappiness with our family despite our voluntary creation of rules about which hours our children could play outside (not before 9am or after 7pm).
Our prior next door neighbor was an ER doc with odd sleeping hours, and I can recall multiple times when she was shouting at my kids through the fence to be quiet... at say, 2pm. (Ironically, they never seemed to worry about *our* sleeping hours when they threw parties on weekends that would keep my kids up after midnight thanks to all of the raucous adult laughter and conversation.
All this to say, I'd gotten used to avoiding my neighbors and even (I'm ashamed to admit) ridiculing my neighbors. It has been a long time then, since I've actively admired my neighbors... far too long since I've actively tried to BE a good neighbor.
What are the values then, that I hope to instill in my own kids about neighborliness? What makes a good neighbor? Here are some of the things I hope to convey:
A good neighbor...
- watches out for the other folks on their block, and helps out when needed
- offers or volunteers assistance
- brings food in the event of joys or hardships (e.g. new babies, bereavements)
- makes a sincere effort to be courteous and aware of how their actions (and the actions of their children and pets!) affect the people around them
- participates in group building activities ~ from block parties to holiday decorating and Neighborhood Watch
- is prepared to help others beyond their own family in the event of an emergency or natural disaster
- lives by the Golden Rule... do unto others as you would have them do unto you
*Names changed to protect the privacy of the parties mentioned herein.
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