American Husbandry

We have a new neighbor, two houses behind us.  That sounds far away, but we live in the city so it’s like six feet.

She seems very nice.  This is her first home, she’s a legal professional or something, and her dad is out from Michigan helping her move in.  She about our age.

I’m afraid though that my efforts to be a friendly, helpful neighbor may quickly be creeping her out.  There’s a fine line between being a helpful resource, and get-the-hell-off-my-lawn.

The day after introducing myself while walking my dogs, I hear some stuff going down in her yard.  I went over and found her dad trying to pull out the old fence.  I offered to help.  I went home, got my sledge hammer and some rachet straps, came back and started whacking the snot out of the aluminum posts.  Little did I know that our neighbor was inside taking a nap after working in the yard all morning.

I called Sherlock Holmes up and, through some careful deductive reasoning, he figures my sledgehammering woke her up.  And just like that, I went from helpful and friendly to mind-your-own-business.

In the days since, there’s been some tool-sharing, but nothing nearly as intimate as me tying the fence to her father’s truck and telling him not to worry, just put it in low gear and rip this baby outta here.

When Leona and I moved to Pittsburgh, we were blessed with some fantastic neighbors (who seriously need to update their blog.  Our nation’s newfound socialism isn’t an excuse to let that thing go.).  It made a world of difference, and were very, very thankful for everything that they did for us.  They managed to be a helpful resource without overstepping their boundaries, except for that time that they knocked down that wall in the bedroom.  They had REALLY nice tools, and always had plenty of good food and/or mirrors and solar lights.

In many ways, that lovely couple taught us a lot about what it means to be good neighbors.  The neighbor relationship needs to be somewhat aloof – if it’s too serious, it’s not appreciated.  There’s help with manual labor, ample amounts of borrowing things, and sharing food, alcoholic beverages, treats for the dogs, and space in the driveway when your parents come visit.

But every neighbor is different, and what may be seen as friendly and helpful by one neighbor might get reported to the police by another.

Leona and I live in one of those neighborhoods that is labeled as “in transition,” whatever that means.  It’s a diverse neighborhood with a mix of ethnicities, income and age groups.  We know from our experience that in a neighborhood like this, it’s easy to feel all alone even though there’s plenty of people.  In the past six months we’ve gotten involved in our block group and it’s been much better.  No longer do I think of that crazy lady with the cats and the miniature bushes as the crazy lady with the cats and all the bushes.  I met her!  I know her name now!  And that, my friends, is empowering.

With our new neighbor, I don’t want to be overwhelming or anything.  I just want her to know that if she ever needs anything, she should feel free to ask.  And also come drink on the patio with us.  Just normal, neighborly stuff.  There’s no harm in that, right?

I’m gonna go see if her dad wants to go to Home Depot with me.  Is that weird?