Chances
are, you have one near where you live.
Someone
in your apartment complex that knows when you do your laundry.
Someone
that knows when you walk your dog.
Someone
that knows when you mow your lawn.
Someone
that not only knows things about you, but learns them through
methods a stalker would find creepy. Bad enough they don’t hide
all that well in their windows, but then you are treated to the
ways they use the information to decide your quality as a person.
They
know the brand of detergent you use and how much fabric softener
you add. They critique your choices of flowers to plant in conversations
with other homeowners on your street. They are disturbed that
you don’t take your shutters down, clean them, paint them, and
rehang them at least once per year.
They
believe they’re good and justified. Most of use prefer to begin
descriptions with word lists that include nosey and intrusive.
Regardless, they’re neighbors.
For
the most part, and I would place the percentages high in the majority
section, neighbors are fantastic people. They’re trustworthy and
reliable. They’ll help you out if you ask. Many strong and lasting
friendships develop from a start of simply being neighbors.
But
there are exceptions.
About
twenty years ago, I took a trip to visit a friend that had just
moved into a new home. Out in the country, borderline extremely
rural, with quite a few neighbors but acres between houses.
As
we discussed how far apart the houses were, the friend chuckled
and went inside. She returned with a note.
“Welcome
to the neighborhood. I am a beekeeper and sell the honey from
my hives. When you do your landscaping, do not use the following
in your yard or garden…”
Now,
those are my words in the quote. It was twenty years ago. But
I remember the evening and the note, and the content is accurate.
No please or thank you on any of the four pages. A brief introduction
followed by a really long list of plants and flowers, fruit trees
and vegetables. Not a polite “I’d kind of prefer if you didn’t
use these” list. A very dry and demanding list.
My
friend laughed at it. She happens to strongly believe local communities
and businesses deserve support from residents, loves honey, and
wants to support bees. So, she kept the letter and still refers
to it to this day. Being bee friendly is a good thing. But she
never went over to introduce herself, nor has she ever bought
any honey from that neighbor.
The
twist here isn’t whether or not someone passes along a list of
demands about bees or anything else. Even if they pass them along
politely and as a request after a very friendly introduction isn’t
fully the curious part. It’s the expectations and judgements and
demands for compliance. Again, not from the majority, but enough
that we all understand such people live around us.
There
are, of course, certain elements that go into creating the atmosphere
of a neighborhood. Elements of common ground and courtesy. Noise
is a good example. The appropriateness of dogs barking for an
hour at 3am might just be a subject we can all quickly agree on.
But what time is ok to start the lawn mowers could take a bit
more discussion.
The
existence of such ideas is important. Recognizing them leads to
being kind and considerate of others, and in turn having kindness
and consideration extended to you. We’re all in this together,
so let’s be in it happily. Good stuff. But it might be crossing
into an extreme when a person decides you qualify as good people
because you mow your lawn every five days while another homeowner
is careless and lazy because they mow every nine or ten.
I’m
not looking for perfection. Hang your school flag, raise your
bees, and tend to your garden. I’ll tend to mind. I’ll thank you
for bringing over some honey to me, and happily drop off some
freshly baked zucchini bread for you. I’ll water your plants when
you go away, and be grateful for you keeping an eye toward my
home when I travel.
After
all, we’re neighbors. I think that’s supposed to be a good thing.