A common complaint
heard these days is that neighbors just aren’t neighborly anymore. It’s nothing
like when we were kids, the curmudgeons will say. My response: When was the
last time you made the first contact? That’s what I thought.
A few weeks ago, some
good neighbors: the kind who will feed your dog when you’re on vacation, moved
out. I saw the hubby loading up a trailer with boxes, and yelled across the
cul-de-sac ( the favored form of communication around here). I said “I’d come
help you with that, but . . . I don’t want you to move!” We’re going to miss
him and his wife and their sweet little daughter. We’ve loved watching her grow
up, from the first toddling steps on the driveway, to waiting in her little lawn
chair when she hears the ice cream truck, to wearing her raincoat and galoshes
while performing as the “best water sprinkler jumper in the world”. (Her
Daddy’s designation).
In a matter of only a
day or two, we walked over as another trailer was being unloaded into the same
garage. We introduced ourselves to the young couple who is bringing a new
little girl- and Bonus- her baby brother to our neighborhood. Ah- potential
Halloween monsters for trick or treating. They’ll fit right in. We may not have
been a proper welcome wagon- no time to bake a cake- but a handshake and a
howdy-do most likely went a long way in making them feel welcome. They said the
lady who lives between us in the cul-de-sac had already been over. She’s quick,
that one.
Developing next-door
relationships takes work, but the rewards are remarkable. When I was growing up
on a similar very close “circle”, our next-door neighbor’s basement was the
preferred destination when the tornado sirens blew. She had a key to our house,
and would make use of it to bring us homemade treats and candy. It seemed she
didn’t miss a holiday, from the biggies like Christmas and Easter all the way
down to Valentines and St. Patrick’s. There’s nothing to ease the pain of
homework like settling it on the dining room table next to a fresh batch of
cupcakes.
Other neighbors with
children became life-long friends. Some of the same kids that were on our
middle of the street baseball teams now share their nuggets of wisdom, along
with pics of kids and grandkids on Facebook.
My husband grew up
where the houses were not quite as close. His neighbors were actually cousins,
and they spent a lot of time together. Their daddies spent the whole day driving
trucks together, their moms and grandma
quilting and canning. You can still get James and his sister and those girls
laughing by mentioning a certain pony ride, or the egg shampoos that were
practiced by the future hair-dresser in the bunch.
The street where we
raised our kids was marked by chain-link fences. Once again, no need for
telephones here. We’d stand in our yards and holler. The man across the street was particularly
famous for this. He claimed to be able to predict when my parents were coming
for a visit by our lawn-mowing schedule. Not entirely true, but it made for a
good story.
The same man and I once
shared the care and upkeep of a stray dog. He started it, by placing a pan of
water outside his fence on a hot day. I continued with spare dog food. I was
already taking meals to our own dogs in the back, so a walk to the front fence
was not that difficult. Soon, the friendly English setter mix was named Rascal, as he managed to get
inside the front gate and dig some really good “wallering” holes. Over the
fence one day, I asked Carl what would happen when the weather got colder.
After all, we were responsible for keeping the dog close by. We couldn’t just
let him freeze. No answers that day, but within a week, a very sturdy dog house
appeared at the end of Carl’s driveway.
Once labeled as being
nosy - watching out for each other is now encouraged by the local police.
Neighborhood watch groups are invaluable to those who protect and serve. It’s
now politically correct to know which vehicles are commonly parked in front of
each house. We learn each other’s work schedules, and notify each other of
vacations. The better to be neighborly, my dear.
It takes a little
effort, but it’s still very possible to have the kind of neighborhood Mr.
Rogers would be proud to sing about. Smiles, waves, retrieving mis-thrown newspapers
and improperly delivered mail are all free of charge, and make a huge
difference. To have a good neighbor: Be One.
