Who Are The People In Your Neighborhood???
“Neighbors, do unto strangers
Do unto neighbors
What you do to yourself, yourself, yourself”
Neighbors--The Rolling Stones, 1981
I feel fairly protected in my neighborhood.
I am not kidding at all, here. I feel as though I am safe on all sides, and I can tell you why.
Four years ago, our neighborhood tried to become historically designated. Our motion stalled and eventually failed in the local government--but one cannot fault the neighbors for trying. I pounded the pavement, met my neighbors in the area, and then learned some fantastic things.
I made friends with people on many protective levels.
Next door to me is Christopher--the mayor of the town. Nice guy--does not rake his leaves enough--but a nice guy. A truck hit a utility pole on the block and the emergency teams responded quickly when I called in to the police as sparking wires were crackling in the street. I gave the address and at first no one responded. I called back after five minutes of no response and gave the address and mentioned to the dispatcher that she should look at the house number one up from mine. She said, “Oh my Gosh, I am sending someone immediately.” Now that was service as within five minutes, all sorts of emergency people arrived. Our street is usually among the first plowed (although that has more to do with the hospital than the mayor) but it seems to be a perk.
On the other side of me is a lawyer. Alan is a good guy, answers legal questions when I have them, and seems to offer strong advice. He cooks out often and always has an interesting comment to make on the Chicago Sports scene--as I am confident he is thrilled with the Sox win this week. He is a baseball fan that likes both the North and the South Siders. Rare and interesting.
Behind us is a Judge--Elizabeth, and her husband on the Planning Commission and a recent Citizen of the Year; his name is Al. We usually chat by the back fence and talk about lawn care and political issues. Al and I are similar in our views of political and lawn care “landscapes,” as it were.
Across the street is a Federal Postal inspector--Jeff. He is a good guy who has dedicated himself to historic preservation and truly fixed up and maintained an older home that was in far worst shape before he owned it and decided to mend it. He is a polite guy who likes to show people his handiwork in the house. I am jealous of his skills.
Dotting the neighborhood is an Econ professor, a retired woman who once ran her own business, a couple that work in the local car manufacturing plant and their sons--one of which took care of our yard when I was laid up last year, a retired couple who worked at a large insurance company in the area, a dentist, a gentleman who works as a set designer for the college, a high school English instructor, a high school social science instructor, three private business owners, some college kids, a few folks who work at the local hospital, a doctor, two nurses, two contractors, a truck driver, a former athletic director who claims to now be a philanthropist, a retired teacher who directs a local chorale group, the street commissioner, and many other people from all walks of life. We wave to our neighbors or chat with them, and they reciprocate in kind.
I have met many neighbors through their pets, as the Econ Professor’s dog is afraid of men, the Judge’s dog used to like to have her head petted (the dog passed away and was from a greyhound rescue group), Alan’s dog leans into me as a sign that it likes me, one of the wives of a contractor has a beagle that is old and barks at me when they walk by, one of the nurses and her husband own a Dalmatian, one of the neighbors--his name is Joe and I do not know his occupation--has a lab that likes me to pet him, and a few have cats like we do that stare out the windows when we walk by.
It reminds me a bit of Mayberry in our neighborhood. We all know each other--even if by passing--and we all are friendly.
We have a local small school across the way which can cause some mischievous behavior. We once had yard ornaments (a custom we thankfully no longer practice) in our yard, and a kid stole one. Two days later, he was standing on my porch, with his father, crying and apologizing for his thievery. I had never met these people, but Dad saw our yard, saw the ornament that matched ours in the kid’s possession, and had the kid shovel the walk as a payment for his crime. He also commented he was concerned that his family did not have a bad reputation--which of course in my eyes they do not. That is an example of a good parent.
When we first moved in, some boys across the street asked my wife if we had kids as they wanted them to play catch with them. Since we did not have kids, I would occasionally play “all-time quarterback” when they were a person down and one of their fathers was unavailable.
This truly is a great neighborhood. And for me, I am protected on the legal, local, and federal levels on all sides. Plus, I “got” to be “all-time QB” for a while. The kids have sadly grown and moved on. My hall of fame days are over, I suppose.
Do unto neighbors
What you do to yourself, yourself, yourself”
Neighbors--The Rolling Stones, 1981
I feel fairly protected in my neighborhood.
I am not kidding at all, here. I feel as though I am safe on all sides, and I can tell you why.
Four years ago, our neighborhood tried to become historically designated. Our motion stalled and eventually failed in the local government--but one cannot fault the neighbors for trying. I pounded the pavement, met my neighbors in the area, and then learned some fantastic things.
I made friends with people on many protective levels.
Next door to me is Christopher--the mayor of the town. Nice guy--does not rake his leaves enough--but a nice guy. A truck hit a utility pole on the block and the emergency teams responded quickly when I called in to the police as sparking wires were crackling in the street. I gave the address and at first no one responded. I called back after five minutes of no response and gave the address and mentioned to the dispatcher that she should look at the house number one up from mine. She said, “Oh my Gosh, I am sending someone immediately.” Now that was service as within five minutes, all sorts of emergency people arrived. Our street is usually among the first plowed (although that has more to do with the hospital than the mayor) but it seems to be a perk.
On the other side of me is a lawyer. Alan is a good guy, answers legal questions when I have them, and seems to offer strong advice. He cooks out often and always has an interesting comment to make on the Chicago Sports scene--as I am confident he is thrilled with the Sox win this week. He is a baseball fan that likes both the North and the South Siders. Rare and interesting.
Behind us is a Judge--Elizabeth, and her husband on the Planning Commission and a recent Citizen of the Year; his name is Al. We usually chat by the back fence and talk about lawn care and political issues. Al and I are similar in our views of political and lawn care “landscapes,” as it were.
Across the street is a Federal Postal inspector--Jeff. He is a good guy who has dedicated himself to historic preservation and truly fixed up and maintained an older home that was in far worst shape before he owned it and decided to mend it. He is a polite guy who likes to show people his handiwork in the house. I am jealous of his skills.
Dotting the neighborhood is an Econ professor, a retired woman who once ran her own business, a couple that work in the local car manufacturing plant and their sons--one of which took care of our yard when I was laid up last year, a retired couple who worked at a large insurance company in the area, a dentist, a gentleman who works as a set designer for the college, a high school English instructor, a high school social science instructor, three private business owners, some college kids, a few folks who work at the local hospital, a doctor, two nurses, two contractors, a truck driver, a former athletic director who claims to now be a philanthropist, a retired teacher who directs a local chorale group, the street commissioner, and many other people from all walks of life. We wave to our neighbors or chat with them, and they reciprocate in kind.
I have met many neighbors through their pets, as the Econ Professor’s dog is afraid of men, the Judge’s dog used to like to have her head petted (the dog passed away and was from a greyhound rescue group), Alan’s dog leans into me as a sign that it likes me, one of the wives of a contractor has a beagle that is old and barks at me when they walk by, one of the nurses and her husband own a Dalmatian, one of the neighbors--his name is Joe and I do not know his occupation--has a lab that likes me to pet him, and a few have cats like we do that stare out the windows when we walk by.
It reminds me a bit of Mayberry in our neighborhood. We all know each other--even if by passing--and we all are friendly.
We have a local small school across the way which can cause some mischievous behavior. We once had yard ornaments (a custom we thankfully no longer practice) in our yard, and a kid stole one. Two days later, he was standing on my porch, with his father, crying and apologizing for his thievery. I had never met these people, but Dad saw our yard, saw the ornament that matched ours in the kid’s possession, and had the kid shovel the walk as a payment for his crime. He also commented he was concerned that his family did not have a bad reputation--which of course in my eyes they do not. That is an example of a good parent.
When we first moved in, some boys across the street asked my wife if we had kids as they wanted them to play catch with them. Since we did not have kids, I would occasionally play “all-time quarterback” when they were a person down and one of their fathers was unavailable.
This truly is a great neighborhood. And for me, I am protected on the legal, local, and federal levels on all sides. Plus, I “got” to be “all-time QB” for a while. The kids have sadly grown and moved on. My hall of fame days are over, I suppose.
posted by Eric Sweetwood at 12:25 AM
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