This morning as I was out walking the dog around the yard as I usually do, I noticed my across-the-street neighbor unloading large landscaping paver bricks one by one from the trunk of his car, walking them over to the bed where he stacked them meticulously in a row, outlining the bed. I stood in long moments of indecision, considering going over and asking him if he would like some help, as he appeared to be doing it on his own. I watched for a long time, pondering whether or not he would actually accept my offer. When it was all said and done I didn’t go over and help him, and I’m still questioned myself about that decision for the next several minutes. Eventually I climbed into my car and drove over to my older sister’s house where I have made a weekly commitment to water her plants and do a little gardening.
What does it mean to be a good neighbor? The man across the street has never spoken to me, and periodically, when I catch his or his wife’s attention, I wave and say good morning or hello. But they never initiate any kind of greeting to me, and they haven’t in the year that they’ve lived there. What am I to make of that? How do I behave as a good neighbor to someone who shows no particular interest?
Last winter when we had 15 inches of snow fall over night, I took it upon myself to shovel out one of my neighbor’s driveways. She was out of town, and I couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to come home and find 15 inches of snow in your driveway burying your car. I didn’t hesitate, but went to another neighbor’s house and borrowed her shovel (I still don’t have one) and began the arduous process of clearing out the driveway. This neighbor, who lives next door to me, has interacted with me from the day that I moved in, exchanging pleasantries and offering small kindnesses over the course of the two years I’ve lived here. It is easy to reciprocate for her.
But what about the man across the street who doesn’t speak and hasn’t shown any interest in doing so? Maybe, like me, he is shy. Maybe not. I won’t know because today I made the choice not to interact with him and to offer assistance with his project. To me it is a simple matter of act of kindness that we do for one another, though I have no way of knowing now how he would have received my offer. Perhaps I’ll get another chance at some point.
As a child, my family moved from the “black neighborhood” to the “white neighborhood.” In the 1960s this was a big deal, and many of the people around us did not find it too humorous that a family of negroes had moved into the area. The reactions ranged from cool, chilly indifference to outright hostility, but for the most part people ignored us and life went on. Over the years, even into my adulthood, I was periodically aware of the same chilliness from neighbors as I had experienced back then, and while most of my current neighbors are friendly, the people across the street are the only ones who do not really speak to me. Perhaps it is my imagination, perhaps not. Today I had a chance to put it directly to the test, but chose not to. An offer of help might help crack open the cocoon of aloofness. Perhaps I’ll look for another opportunity and give it a try.
I am grateful to be connected to the people around me. I don’t expect or necessarily even want to be good friends with my neighbors, but I do want to live in a community in which we wave and smile and periodically look out for one another. I have bought girl scout cookies and dished out Halloween candy to the two little girls who live catty-cornered from me, and I wave at their parents as they walk their dog. Henry, the dad, brought me some birdseed they’d had in their garage for a long time. They’d watched me fill my bird feeder weekly and figured I’d get more use from it than they did. My next door neighbor May keeps an eye on my house when I travel. She also saves the bags from her newspapers for me to use to pick up after Honor. She leaves them next to my back door. I also keep an eye on her house when she travels, picking up the newspaper if she’s forgotten to have it held. This is what I’m used to experiencing from good neighbors, and I’m grateful to have a few folks I look forward to seeing around on a regular basis.
The house I currently live in is not my “forever house,” I probably won’t live here for much more than another year or two. It’s not my farm/retreat after all. But for the time I am here, I will continue to be as good a neighbor as I can and enjoy the people around me. And that is a very good thing.
