Meeting the Neighbors

 

by Pa Rock

Recluse

Back when I was growing up in Ward and June Cleaver's America, a person knew their neighbors.  If you were new to the neighborhood most of the neighbors would stop by and get acquainted, perhaps with a casserole, or a cake, or a six-pack of beer.  And neighbors would also visit in each other's homes for card games, or to watch television, or just to enjoy some general conversation.

But those days have gone the way of cars with fins and metal bumpers.  Now we are more apt to keep to ourselves and engage with the neighbors only when we have to - usually as the result of some sort of problem.  Today, of course, we face a far lower standard of living than the country was experiencing in the post-war 1950's, and lots of families have only one parent in the household - and that person works multiple jobs, or, if there are two parents in the home, both are likely to be working.  Family time, itself, suffers, and there is certainly no spare time to get out and socialize with the neighbors.

During the eight years that I have lived here at The Roost, I have met fewer than ten of my neighbors, including a couple only once, and one "neighbor" who lives more than two miles on down the road.  I'm not proud of that, it's just the way things have played out.  I met one of those neighbors when she came to the door looking for her lost dog, another when he boldly came to the door during inclement weather and asked for a ride to town.  One came up and introduced himself after I spotted him bush-hogging a corner of my land to provide a clearer view along the roadway - and now he bush-hogs it all for me twice a year and helps out with other special projects when I ask.  Yet another of those neighbors turned out to be my dentist.

But I still have never met most of the people who roar past my house multiple times every day.  We wave, because you do that in the country, but we don't stop and visit.

But even with my serious lack of neighborhood socializing, over the past twenty-four hours I have managed to meet two more neighbors.  I guess when it rains, it really does pour.

Yesterday afternoon as I was headed home after running a brief errand to town, I noticed a young man walking along the side of the road going in the same direction as me.  He appeared to be somewhere in his thirties, dressed casual, and wearing a tee-shirt that said "Volunteer."   Although the shirt did not say what he had been volunteering to do, I have had a great deal of experience with volunteers over the years and have generally found them to be good people.  

As the fellow was preparing to turn off of the paved roadway and step into the woods in search of a shortcut - not a good option - I pulled up and asked if he needed a ride.  He did, and seemed grateful for the opportunity.  It turns out that he lived about a mile beyond my place, and I drove him home.  We had a pleasant chat and became acquainted along the way.

This morning as Rosie and I were completing our walking regimen in the backyard, I stepped out onto the driveway and saw a pickup pull onto the drive and stop.  I could see that the driver was getting out of his truck, but he was far enough away that I could not tell if he was someone I knew or not.  We shouted greetings across the yard and I walked toward the truck.   As I got closer I saw that he was about the age of the fellow whom I had given a ride to yesterday, but instead of wearing a "Volunteer" shirt, this guy was wearing a shirt that identified him as a member of the city's fire department.

The man at the truck appeared rather sheepish as he told me that he had just hit my mailbox.  We walked over to examine the mailbox, and sure enough it was dinged pretty badly and lying on the ground.   Part of the post that held it up had also been knocked down.  The fellow offered to pay to have it replaced, but I told him that I would be happy just to have it put back up.  He took the box to his house (about a half-mile past mine) and knocked the dings out, and less than an hour later he had the mailbox back on its repaired post.   He thanked me for being nice about the whole affair, and I thanked him for being so honest and fixing the damage.  Then we talked about ourselves for a few minutes and got to know each other.  It was a good-neighbor bonding moment!

Now when an emergency arises, I have two more neighbors that I can call on for help - and I didn't even have to whip up a casserole!