When neighbors were neighbors
- col-lee-elliot-aging-graciously
- May 8, 2024
- 238
I grew up in a neighborhood where neighbors were neighbors. We helped each other out, ate meals together, and shared both happy and sad occasions. Kids grew up as best friends and maintained those relationships well into adulthood.
The exceptions on the block were the principal of my elementary school, who was a lovely lady, but she was the principal, and Dr. Schneider, who would not let us sit on the wall at the edge of his property. Mother said he was concerned one of us might fall and get hurt. Father said he was afraid he’d get sued if anyone fell, but we knew he was just plain mean and grumpy.
Over the years, as we moved around, we found the neighbors to be less and less inclined to include newcomers in their lives. Sometimes we never even met those who lived a few houses down the street.
Such is the case involving the ever-in-trouble Willow and me. Collies are barkers, and Willow is no exception. They also are extremely possessive of their perceived territories, as in “How dare you walk on my street,” “No deer allowed within 100 yards” and “That squirrel has to go.”
One evening this week, I was talking with a long-distance friend on the phone when I realized Willow was barking frantically. Outside I discovered a man at my back fence yelling at her at the top of his lungs. I went out, phone in hand, to see what the problem was, and he launched into a loud diatribe of what a terrible neighbor I was because I allowed my dog to bark too much. He was not interested in talking or listening, just in yelling, and of course the louder he yelled, the more Willow barked.
Soon he launched into threatening, first the dog, then me, cursing and swearing and eventually calling me every vulgar name I have ever heard in my life. I was so shocked I had no angry retort or tearful words to respond.
This man said he was a neighbor, but in 20 years in this neighborhood, I have never seen him, spoken with him or even known his name. He was a complete stranger. If he had come to my door and told me Willow was annoying him with her barking, I would have told him I was really sorry and would do whatever I possibly could to solve the problem.
I am sad for this man, who as an adult cannot control his anger enough that he feels it is OK to threaten and curse at an 86-year-old woman who actually does try to always be a good neighbor. I fear for his family.
His last threat as he was storming through another neighbor’s yard was he was going to call the police. Oh how I wish he had. My friend on the phone heard the whole confrontation and was shocked by the vulgar names and cursing. While I am well-schooled in the knowledge that forgiveness is necessary, some things are not forgettable. We will certainly never be the neighbors he claims we are.
In today’s world it is easy to become highly frustrated. Some days it seems nothing will ever go right again, but eventually it does, and we can put these kinds of experiences in the “Well, that’s all over, and I don’t want to go through it again” box.
I am keeping a closer ear on Willow, so maybe if she somehow learns her territoriality is not acceptable, she will take up playing with the huge “herding ball” intended to keep her busy but so far ignored. As for me, I’m learning every day. The ball is kind of fun to push around.