If you don't know already, I grew up or at least spent a majority of my early years in a small suburb outside of Pittsburgh with my father who still lives in the same little house today. Growing up my father taught me many, many lessons in life, and stressed many of these over and over again. One of these lessons was on respect. He would say this word to me in different context repeatedly over the years. Respect. "You need to show some respect." Show some respect, show some respect... respect yourself, respect others... respect, respect, respect. As several of his lessons were at the time, I didn't understand it. I didn't understand what "respect" exact was. But as most of his lessons which were repeated over and over, they stuck with me, and over the years I have come to not only understand them, but appreciate and RESPECT them as well.
As you know, John and I have recently moved out to the every expanding land of suburbia where developers are herding out the cow like we white folk herd out the Native Americans years ago. At least the farmers are leaving with a huge sum in their pockets to spend the rest of their days enjoying or doing whatever they'll eventually decide to do. I hope that the farmer who recently sold his land behind us for a cool 3 mil will move to somewhere exotic like Fiji and spend his days in his little overalls and straw hat sipping on colorful drinks with little umbrellas and plastic dancing monkeys. I miss the cow terribly, but so is life.
The neighborhood that I live in is everything that I expected an upper-crust suburban neighborhood to be like. That is, exactly like an overgrown, over aged high school where cliques are being formed and people respond to the invite to the book club with, "Do I actually have to read the book?" ?!? People, please. The drama is forming like a brightly lit lava lamp, oozing up and down, and I am sitting back high on life enjoying it all. I figure at the very least, it will all be good for an eventual novel. THAT at the very least is where I find the only stimulation for the time being in my current environment. Yes, I too am a snob in my own sort of way.
Needless to say, John and I don't exactly "fit-in." But really, have I ever fit into anything or anywhere? I've already been kicked out of the book club. (Isn't that a hoot?!?) And we have received two notices from the home owners association which is sort of like being sent to detention. The first was because we left our garbage cans out front and the most recent was because our lawn is dying. !?! LAWN? Honestly people... I don't know a thing about LAWN. LAWN101 was NOT included in the packet or "Declaration" given to us with a hefty list of rules as our welcoming packet. When it gets up to 100 plus degrees... lawn dies. I know that much. Except for our next door neighbors who is perfectly lush green and manicured. Did I mention that he owns a nursery? Which brings us to the next events...
We have this neighbor, you see. A kind of neighbor that will make an excellent character in a book per se. And growing up I was taught the value of these excellent characters, I mean neighbors. As a matter of fact, my neighbor and her family next to the house I grew up in Pittsburgh are much more like family than they are neighbors. As a matter of fact I even address her as "Aunt." She helped my father when I was growing up, watching me when I was sick and the list could go on forever and ever. I truly LOVE her and her family. There's a whole lot of respect there. Neighbors help each other out, look out for each other. You know?
When I moved out on my own I carried this value and have never really had a problem with a neighbor. Except for my love/hate relationship with Jenny that would turn hot and cold ever so often, but hey... I love her more than words can say to this day... so that doesn't even count. We always worked it out. As a matter of fact, this past weekend John and I went to a neighborhood barbeque at our old neighborhood, and guess what?!? I still love them all. And they seem to miss us! Go figure. So you see... it's a little weird for me, very weird for me when my new neighbor and I don't exactly get along.
And when I say don't get along, I mean to tell you that this man actually yelled at me the other day. Yelled.
...you don't yell at me. Unless you’re my father... you don't yell at me. And believe me... if my daddy yells at me, I yell back. I don't care who the fuck you are, just don't.
John and I tried to get to know these people, have been friendly, open, inviting, even accommodating...
It's not as though I'm trying to win friends an influence people here. John and I are very happy with our current friend quota, and at times I feel overwhelmed with friend and associate dates. I would never invite this neighbor over for an evening cocktail in worries that I'd be thoroughly bored by the negativity and complaining by an hour into the evening anyways. Stimulating, intellectual conversation is just not available at this counter. So we move on...
Did I mention that you DON'T yell at me?
When he first complained about the dogs barking, we tried to work with him. The dogs are not used to people. We lived in a cul-de-sac before and all windows faced out away from the entrance. We didn't socialize them as much as say we should have because... well because John and I aren't the most social of people and two you need to be very careful with small dogs mixing with larger dogs at the park. After Pucci was picked up by a German Shepard, we stopped going to the dog parks. So they bark, and yes it drives me crazy as well. But I've been working really hard with them, as is John, and they're getting better. As a matter of fact, one of the main reasons that we moved here was for the dogs so that we could walk them more and take them to the park. Anyways, I respect this new neighbor of our that we will be living next to for who knows how many years, and I want to make the effort to get along. Did I mention the effort that I'm willing to make? Effort... on my part?
But when I went up to him the other day to more or less say hello and he unleashed this fury of hatred about our cats leaving paw prints on his deck... I just more or less froze in shock. I mean paw prints? On a deck? That's actually outside? Where there's constant dirt? And leaves falling from trees? wow. And I though that I was obsessive compulsive. But he is the type that waters his driveway and sidewalk every day, and I understand this and try my best to respect it.
By the way, did you know that there is a war going on in Iraq and people are dying and my best friend who is now pregnant, her husband might be shipped off there again? Or that we have an asshat sitting in the seat calling himself our leader trying to do his best to fuck up our nation and give ALL Americans a bad name? Just curious. I mean yes I'm sure that the paint trim on your house is much more important than that and you probably voted for that asshat anyways.
Maybe I really should put off my health issues, doctor appointments and writing this novel, why not throw in everything else that's important to me and that I'm trying to achieve here to focus on these pawprints driving this man crazy? Or maybe as daddy says, I should help him learn to help himself.
And this more or less did the whole camel and straw thing for me again. I mean the passive aggressive held back frustration that I being an empathic can TOTALLY feel, or ignoring us when I say or wave hello, or the patronizing towards both John and I, or the just plain rudeness, I can take. But again... you don't yell at me.
Well all I can say is that this neighborhood needs a good dose of Boyda lecture on respect. If you expect it, you need to know how to show it. And when you don't, don't expect it to be returned.
Oh ya… And I still love my home.
And maybe I should mention that his wife is a total doll! I guess that we all need balance in life.