Good Fences Make Good Neighbors (Part 1)
20 Jul
Here’s the thing. I could be wrong about this. Way wrong. So wrong that I can imagine a laughing advice columnist sputtering coffee all over my letter before she advises medication. And yet, I wonder if I’m right? I wonder if our neighbors really don’t like us. I mean, really? Who wouldn’t like us?
We live in a relatively quiet small town in Montana in a relatively quiet neighborhood. Our house is on the corner of two streets, which means that our backyard intersects with the backyards of our two closest neighbors — Steph and Adam, Barb and Nate. This is our micro-neighborhood, if you will. Since we share a wooden fence with both parties, we know them fairly well. Plus, Doug and Barb work together, so that makes it even cozier.
Our macro-neighborhood is a little less intimate with us, but no less interesting.
For instance Tom, our neighbor across the street, is a man I knew little about up until a couple of years ago. He wears his long, white hair back in a ponytail and seems to have a semi-annual run-in with the law. The rumor is that his next-door neighbors called the police because he was keeping a horse in his backyard, and the police had to persuade him to find a bigger pasture for his animal. Which is funny, since we lived with a rooster next door for two years, and fantasized calling the cops every time the rooster woke us up at ungodly hours of the morning.
Anyway, Doug was working in our front yard when Tom first introduced himself. He said he had heard us jamming one evening. Turns out he plays guitar too, and I’ve heard him sing Neil Young covers on his porch in a wan, sad way a few times. Doug trotted over to his house to see his fossil collection and hear stories of Tom backing up the band, “Ten Years After” and other tall tales.
But then Tom decided to show up on our doorstep one morning dead drunk, with a guitar strapped around his back and a harmonica to his lips.
“Is your old man in?” he asked, and I let him inside to share the song he wrote with us. Tom walked into the middle of our living room, took a wide cowboy stance while we watched from the kitchen (we were canning tomatoes) and belted out a nifty original tune sung in the style of Neil Young. It expressed his sincere love for his ex-wife, and his sincere regret that she gave all of their money away to the local cult. It’s hard to rhyme with the words “Church Universal Triumphant” but I gave him points for trying. After the song, he explained that he hoped to reconcile with his wife and ran after her truck the last time he saw her to see if he could jump in the back and break out her back window with his fist as a gesture of his love (and I’m assuming anguish). “I think she might have come back to me,” he said. Too bad he can’t run faster than 5 miles an hour.
It’s been two years since Tom’s serenade and I still hide in the backyard when I see him venture onto the sidewalk. Not that he’s dangerous, but the whiskey and women and junk cars kind of preclude the kind of neighborly relationship where you barbecue together. Sometimes you can know too much about your neighbor to be friends, without even trying.
Well…I've discovered that most of my neighbors (nearly all of whom I've never met!) hate me! They tell my renter every time he's outside how they don't like my landscaping, hate my paint color, can't believe I took out this bush, that tree, etc. It's intense!
I live in a cul-de-sac. Our yard is big and we touch seven other yards. Think of us like the Tennessee of the neighborhood. And I can say pretty confidently that the only neighbor I don't get along with is the only one where there isn't a fence separating our yards. LOL.
We officially hate our next door neighbors and their barking dog and unkempt yard complete with every noxious weed imaginable and their big ugly Camper and their rotting roof they say they can't afford to replace because they bought a big ugly camper! Fortunately, we have nice neighbors on the other side and great neighbors 202 steps away that invite us to sit on their deck and drink beer on hot summer evenings!
Dang! Sure glad I don't live in a neighborhood like those described. We get along pretty well with each other in this valley, despite huge political differences.
Wow, I'm glad this struck a chord with folks. This is probably going to be a four part series, so look for the next post about the neighbor who called us a nasty name.
Great funny story!I thought about putting up a fence, although it would would run through a little dry creek bed in some woods, because my neighbor had one of my trees cut down yesterday! He (I blame the husband) and his family had moved out, but set their lawn crew to work trimming dead branches and cutting out some trees, including one well within our yard that might have been blocking the view of the golf course to any potential buyers. The house is for sale, and I’m sure “golf course view” is on the listing. Trouble is that our trees block his view. These were never very friendly neighbors to anyone, and I didn’t know they’d already moved out…so when I pounded on their front door practically frothing at the mouth, I was greeted by the Spanish-speaking workmen. Jose apologised. He only cut down the trees he was told to. There were more on the chopping block in our yard, but I spared them…for now. The missing one was a mulberry, which provided food for the wild animals.
You'll recognize the comment above because I pasted it from the one I made on your blog, being lazy.
Great funny story!
I thought about putting up a fence, although it would would run through a little dry creek bed in some woods, because my neighbor had one of my trees cut down! He (I blame the husband) and his family had moved out, but set their lawn crew to work trimming dead branches and cutting out some trees, including one well within our yard that might have been blocking the view of the golf course to any potential buyers. The house is for sale, and I’m sure “golf course view” is on the listing. Trouble is that our trees block his view. These were never very friendly neighbors to anyone, and I didn’t know they’d already moved out…so when I pounded on their front door practically frothing at the mouth, I was greeted by the Spanish-speaking workmen. Jose apologised. He only cut down the trees he was told to. There were more on the chopping block in our yard, but I spared them…for now. The missing one was a mulberry, which provided food for the wild animals. I thought about planting a thorny hedge, although I’m hoping the new neighbors will be better.
Well, I’m glad you got that straightened out! I would have been furious too. I hope your new neighbors are tree huggers. Especially since there are so few on the prairie! Janelle
I immediately began thinking of words that rhymed with triumphant – blunt – but, I stopped at the c’s.
When we moved into the neighborhood, I was just glad the neighbors spoke to us. After all, we had a pig and two boys, one who hung out with his friends who all dressed in black and laid across a car out front like vampires. But, here’s the deal. The people who lived here before us were even stranger. There was a high school teacher who kept two alligators in a pond out back and partied in a hot tub. The old woman who lived here before us ran to the neighbors and told them she was convinced her sons were trying to kill her.
Hmmm. Come to think of it, we bought her house out of a trust.
Hilarious! I think you ought to write a post about this. Southern California really produces a lot of characters. Besides, I want to know more about this pig. And I hope the alligator never ventured into the hot tub! That would have been bad. And yes, I couldn’t think of anything that would rhyme with triumphant either. Janelle
Thanks Catherine! You're definitely not lazy.
The church universal triumphant
a member since I was an infant
in many ways insigificant
or perhaps no longer relevant
much like the misused elephant
some say you are are a sychophant
or led by an evil serpepent (sorry)
but perhaps one is magnificent
it might be to one’s detriment
not to be triumphant
but to be completely blunt
or … well, nevermind
Wish you were my neighbor! Come back to Colorado…. I miss you!
Wish you were my neighbor! Come back to Colorado…. I miss you!
Things next door have been OK the past few years, ever since the accused car thieves moved out, and that one guy got picked up for what I was told was his parole violation. So, Janelle, I guess it could be worse. I'll be your neighbor!
I’ve never heard the terms micro- and macro-neighborhood until now. Thanks for opening my eyes to these!