Like A Good Neighbor: June 5K

For seven years, we lived in a tiny house halfway down a side street that ended in a cul-de-sac by the river.

Our neighborhood had old houses and trailer houses and empty lots, young neighbors and old neighbors, and one crazy guy on the corner who cavorted in his garden naked at night and yelled a lot. Not kidding.

One hot stormy night there was a tornado that uprooted the big cottonwoods and took out the power lines and left our street piled with debris. We were standing in what was left of our yard when the news came down the line that an old woman in a trailer by the cul-de-sac had had a heart attack and the ambulance couldn’t get down the street to get her. Within minutes, in the pouring rain, neighbors were wielding chainsaws and dragging tree limbs and pushing cars out of the way so the ambulance could inch its way down the street and get her.

What neighbors do in times of trouble is what my June 5K is all about.

I don’t know Chris Boxley personally but I know his mother-in-law. I’ve known Sarah Deters since she was a teenager. One lives in my community, one used to but doesn’t any more. But I still feel like they’re part of my neighborhood, an area in which I live that while it may not be geographical is still some place where you help people when they’re in trouble.

If you live near my actual neighborhood, there are a couple of special fundraisers coming up for Chris and his family: Thursday, July 5 at the Bill of Rights Brewery in Pierre, SD and Wednesday, July 11 at the Pizza Ranch in Fort Pierre, SD. Donations can also be made through the family’s GoFundMe page and at Oahe Federal Credit Union in Pierre, SD.

Want to show your support for Sarah and her girls? Take part in the Love Her Back event.

I’m at the halfway point of my Year of 5K’s with six months to go. I’m also on the lookout for a cause, event, or place to walk about for the month of July so if you want to point me in a new direction, post your suggestions in the comments.

 

How bright should merry be?

The light and the dark side of the holidays

 

We’re not Grinches and they’re not the Griswolds. We’re just neighbors with vastly different electric bills for the month of December.

You’ve seen the viral video of the house festooned with thousands of Christmas lights, glowing reindeer grazing on the lawn, neon icicles dripping from the trees, all pulsing in time to Mannheim Steamroller’s “Carol of the Bells”. My neighbors live there. We live in the dark house next door.

When we moved into the neighborhood 20 years ago, we were all on the same level when it came to decking the halls. Icicle lights on the eaves, luminaries lining the walk, wreath on the front door. Every house was different but together we made a companionable display of holiday cheer.

Then about 2010 or so, giant snowflakes appeared on the front windows of the house to the north. In the years that followed, a herd of glistening deer gathered by the shrubs, a forest of spiral rope light trees sprang up in the front yard, and endless rows of twinkling lights crisscrossed the shingles and siding. Then a big electrical box with cords and cables snaking across the snow and finally, the electronic carolers.

As the neighbor’s house got brighter, the rest of the block went dim. It’s not like we couldn’t compete; the rest of us just didn’t try to. 

When their display went up Thanksgiving weekend, my husband asked what we were going to do this year.

“How ‘bout a sign that says Ditto with an arrow pointing to their house?” I asked.

He suggested that maybe they wouldn’t think that was as funny as I did. I figure if you’ve lived by me for 20 years and you’re still talking to me, you must have some sense of humor.

But since they’re not dicks about it – their timer shuts everything off about 11:00 p.m. which is good since our bedroom and guest room both face “Viva La Christmas” – I took the high road, too. Our front deck railing is now wrapped in white lights which cast a soft glow on the “Peace” sign perching on the little wooden bench.

Though the neighbors’ decorations shout and ours only whisper, our holiday spirit is no less heartfelt. After all, it’s Christmas…and it’s the thought that counts. And I’m thinking a little peace on earth is just what we all need this year.

 

Gawking at Naked Neighbors

Nothing to see here, folks, move along.

We were the first to expose ourselves. It was my husband’s idea, as these things often are. One day we were casually talking about doing it and the next day we let it all hang out for the world to see.

We’ve lived in our house for almost 20 years, and in all that time our bedroom window was hidden from the street by an overgrown pine tree. Then the plumber announced that the reason the sewer was backing up into our basement was because tree roots were obstructing the main sewer line to the house. That was the day Jeremy said the pine tree needed to come down. One day later the front yard was carpeted with sawdust and dead pine needles and the dogs were planted at the bedroom window with an unobstructed view of traffic for the first time in their lives.

“It looks wonderful!” gushed the woman next door, who’d hated that tree. “Think what it’s done for your curb appeal.”

“Loving the new siding!” yelled the man from across the street. We sided the house three years ago.

“It looks naked,” I said. “I want a new tree.”

My husband laughed and walked away.

Since then, nude yards are springing up all over the neighborhood. The stripping of a towering cottonwood tree a few blocks east exposed a tidy bungalow. A rambler north of us shed an old elm, revealing a back door and a side patio. And just yesterday, the old woman’s house kitty-cornered from us threw off two dead trees, one in the back, one curbside. We stood in our bare front yard and watched.

“I thought that house was gold,” Jeremy said.

I shrugged. Looks like we’ll be seeing a lot more of the neighbors this summer.
 

Love your neighbor…but don’t pull down your hedge. – Benjamin Franklin