Not Mr Rogers

I live on one side of a duplex, and I've always been blessed with very agreeable neighbors. There have even been a few I've gone out of my way to be neighborly with. Mostly, however, I just keep to myself, making sure that whoever's on the other side of the wall has nothing to complain about regarding me. My last neighbor was a single guy, in his mid- to late-40s, named Rick. We spoke a few times over the years, waved whenever one or the other of us drove by. He was a quiet neighbor, and apart from the occasional random (and inevitable) noise, the only thing I ever heard from his half of the building was his alarm once or twice a week if I happened to be up when it went off. Sometimes I would hear him snoring in the middle of the night if things were extraordinarily quiet. My guess is that his bed was exactly opposite mine, both of us on opposite sides of the same wall.

Rick moved out a few weeks ago. I got up early one day to go to the bank, and when I left my place he and a few friends were hauling out furniture. It was halfway through the month so I didn't think much of it. It occurred to me that he might be leaving, and I was determined to ask him when I got home a little while later. But, he was gone a couple hours later and I never saw him again. I've regretted not talking to him that last opportunity. Since then, I've been on pins and needles, hoping that I get another good neighbor.

My landlady waited no time at all before moving someone in. It's only been two weeks tomorrow since I saw Rick move out, and there have been new people moving in for the past two days. I know for a fact that my landlady did not have the place cleaned as she should. I know that from experience and from not seeing or hearing anything go on in there since Rick left. The new neighbors are Mexican— which is neither good nor bad— and I only know that because I've never heard them use a word of English. I'm not sure how many people have moved in. The place is so small that more than two people will have a hard time in there. In fact, every time I've lost my previous neighbors it's been because they've outgrown the place. A couple of my neighbors have moved in single and moved out married. I don't know much else about them except that they have no problem continuing to work on the place until well into the early morning. If I were not already up myself, I would be greatly displeased. (Don't get me wrong, I know that you need to make some noise when you move into a new place, but the really loud stuff can wait until daytime.)

My neighborhood is very active. I don't really notice it until I start to compare it to other neighborhoods that I've been in. My brother's neighborhood is full of middle-class families. The houses are all two-storey, and the streets have distinctive names. Mini-vans and other family cars drive through regularly, and it's common to see neighbors walking their dogs. My folks' neighborhood is even quieter. Most of the houses are occupied by the retired or near-retired. Very few children are ever seen. The cars are more expensive and generally not filled with families. There are still a lot of dog walkers.

My neighborhood is not quiet. I hear motorcycles and cars with thumping stereos 24 hours a day. During the first half of the day and going on into the afternoon, there are lots of children of all ages walking to and from school. Now that most schools are out for summer, the kids are playing. In the afternoon, the kids get older— high school age— and they walk along the streets in groups of two, four, or more. Some of the groups are mixed, some are all boys. Cars race along the streets. There is a high school a half mile up the street and in the afternoon when class is out, the cars roar down the street right next to my house. I've noticed that even the cops floor it through the neighborhood when the bother to drive through at all.

The foot traffic keeps up through the evening and through most of the night. I have lately taken to going out to my car in the middle of the night and reading. I have a clip-on light, and I roll down the windows to catch the night air. Even at 2 or 3 AM I will see people walking through the neighborhood. One night, from 11 PM to Midnight, I counted over a dozen people walking alone or in small groups.

But, it's not just street activity that makes my neighborhood different. This afternoon I was outside reading, and a few houses down the street to my right, I could hear some redneck guy screaming his lungs out at someone. To the left, I could hear a toddler crying, punctuated occasionally by a father yelling at her to be quiet. I could also hear latin music on the left side. Most nights of the week you can hear latin music from one direction or the other until 11 PM or midnight. To top off this din, in every direction there are yard dogs— the kind of dogs that spend their days behind fences, barking furiously if anyone nears the fence. I hear dogs barking 24/7.

I used to like this neighborhood, and I use to feel safe and comfortable in it. I no longer feel these things. I am a great one for walking off excess energy at night. I can no longer do that. Sure, I can wait until late at night when the streets are fairly safe, but then I have to put up with dogs barking from behind every other fence I pass by. Most of them don't care if I walk by on the other side of the street. They just bark their fool heads off.

A few nights ago the cops broke up a fight on the street outside my house. That happens more and more often these days. (Though, rarely is it bad enough that the tasers come out like I reported here a few months ago.) There is a large wooden sign on the corner of my yard. My landlady uses it to advertise apartments and houses for rent. This sign is constantly being tagged, as are the stop signs at the intersection I live next to.

This all really came together for me tonight when I heard the guy screaming insanely down the street. I am desperate to move out of here. I have greatly over-stayed my time in this neighborhood.

Talk to you again soon.

"Good fences make good neighbors."— Robert Frost in Mending Wall