Yesterday I got an email from one of my neighbors. She was concerned about a car that had been parked by my house – all day long – with a dude just hanging out inside the car. I had noticed the car as well, but hadn’t looked closely enough to see inside. At some point I was cleaning the deck and started throwing leaves over the railing, in the direction of the car. I wasn’t trying to diss the driver or anything. I was just getting leaves off my deck. And that side yard is still mine, so I didn’t think much of it. Not long after that, I noticed the car was gone. Maybe the driver didn’t want all those leaves on his shiny, new car. I replied to my neighbor’s email and thanked her for the heads-up.


A few hours later, another neighbor called to check and see if I was around. I said I was and asked how I could help. She said she didn’t want anything other than to check on me. She had noticed some lights on, but hadn’t seen hide nor hair of me in ages. I let her know that I was well and doing great. I thanked her for checking on me and said goodbye.


I’m not sure what was going on with all that neighborly communication, but it was appreciated. If I wanted to go nut-job, I’d say something about how my neighbors must think I’m so old I need checking-in on, but as I’m smack dab in the middle of both their ages, I’m gonna keep a cool head and assume they were simply being, well, neighborly. And isn’t that lovely?


I sometimes forget that there are good, decent people in the world. It’s easy to forget them, actually, as they don’t make the news in any way, shape or form. And the truth is – I live on a swell street with loads of good, decent folks. And it’s not just a good street. It’s a good neighborhood. The kind we all want. The kind we used to call the “American Dream.”


I may have to start spending a bit of time outside the Fortress of Solitude that is our home, and putting in some face time with my neighbors. They’re good enough to check on me, so it seems like the least I can do. Besides – I want them to see I’m not quite as old and decrepit as I think they think I am. I think.

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