We all have neighbors unless we live in remote caves on peak K-9 or some such, and we all consider ourselves to be the best people on the block of them all. Of course. Because we are.
So with this feeling of selfless love for all humanity overflowing from my heart, let me tell you about my neighbors, one of whom is inspiring this post at this very moment.
That’s the folks who live directly to one side of me and whose fence is perhaps only 6 feet away from my front porch railing. I was sitting in my living room minding my own business and watching TV, and over the sound of the program I kept hearing this “RAUGH!” or “BARK” sort of noise. Finally I got up and went to the door to see who or what was being attacked and it turns out to be some drunken guest of the next door man of the house, out in said man of the house’s all-steel workshop, repeatedly exploding with that barking sound, which apparently is his method of laughing.
This male neighbor has an old car in his shop with a cheap Earl Scheib enamel paint job on it, the kind where all the dirt, scratches and pits are painted over. I mean, this is a BAD paint job. I was in said shop building last fall talking with him and noticed a chip under the paint, and, having done auto body and paint work for very many years, I absent-mindedly ran a finger lightly over the bad spot.
This guy came unglued on me, telling me, a professional, that I should know better than to touch the paint on someones car. I told him to go fuck himself, congratulated him on making an enemy of the best neighbor he ever hand, and left. Shortly thereafter he called me up and apologized. I accepted it, but I haven’t forgotten either. I’m the guy who built his kids treehouse when he suffered an accident after just starting the project, and his kid was naturally disappointed. Among many other acts of kindness, decency and good neighborliness.
Right now it’s nearly 11 at night and he and his friends have fired up that old car and are racing the engine and screaming. My front door neighbors. Self-centered, selfish, thoughtless sons of bitches.
The neighbors on the other side of the fence out past my back porch won’t speak to me. They have a huge dog, a monster German shepard, that they spoiled so badly that whenever we tried to talk to each other the dog would get jealous and bark continuously and very loudly for attention. We literally couldn’t hear each other. The dog was also scaring hell out of women who would walk by on the street pushing baby carriages, for some reason only the dog knew. So I tried to talk to them about getting some training or SOMETHING for the dog, because it was becoming a genuine menace. That did it. How dare I not love their dog unconditionally. Now they look the other way if I come into view, and even drove home from the opposite direction for a long time so they wouldn’t go by my house.
Ah. Just got off the phone with a gal who lives a couple houses down wanting to know if I had a phone number for my noisy neighbors besides their cell phone, which they’re not answering and she is trying to call to tell them to SHUT IT DOWN before she calls the sheriff on them. The roaring engine is off now, the barking laugh is down to about pit bull level from its former braying jackass volume, and maybe the sheriff came by after all. We do have other neighbors who must have been unhappy with the racket.
The neighbor who called is nasty in her own right, as she has some sort of negative drift about men and can’t stop herself from blurting out rude insults at very inopportune moments. Then she apologizes, and then she does it again. I no longer take it personally, but it does get tiresome. She’s alienated herself with most of the people in our neighborhood for being personally intrusive and a trouble-maker. She’s always happy to take something you said about someone and tell them, after a little amplifying and embellishing, just to make sure it has enough impact.
At the same time, because I put up with her crap most of the time, she’s always trying to do something nice for me. She does ask for my help with some little difficult chore once in a while, but will always find a way to repay me, by doing some shopping for me or whatever. She and her own next door neighbor, further from me, are on hostile terms due to her inability to let things just slide once in a while. She just can’t seem to understand that just because she doesn’t like something, that doesn’t give her the right to raise hell about it.
Last but not least is the madwoman behind my backyard fence. She really is. She told me herself that she is bi-polar, manic depressive, and schizophrenic and takes lithium to keep from having delusions. She’s a truly beautiful creature if you like creatures, standing about 4 foot 9 inches and weighing around 200 pounds. Her hair is similar to a wadded tangle of barbed wire and her face would frighten off any large male toads who came a’courting. She waddles when she walks, ape-like. I call her Toad Woman.
She has the neighborhoods largest collection of white 5 gallon plastic buckets and round cement pads, the kind you use for stepping stones in the garden, and they’re all neatly stacked behind her house and covered with pieces of plywood. The reason she has the neighborhoods largest collection of these items is because she’s stolen them from everyone else’s yards. She also has a very large garage behind her house, which is filled to the brim with lumber scraps of all descriptions, all stolen from people’s yards over the years.
Three years ago the noisy neighbor had arranged for a dump truck load of fill dirt to be dumped by his back porch, to level the ground for that shop he built. But when the truck arrived, he wasn’t home and Toad Woman got him to dump it in her driveway, where it remained until last summer.
I had to build a good strong fence around my property to keep her off it. Especially to put a stop to finding her in my living room at odd hours of the day. She’d just walk in without knocking.
She’s belligerant, hostile and never has a kind word for anyone or anything. What a sweetheart.
And that’s my neighborhood, pretty much. What I do, is I tend my garden and my chickens, mess with my lapidary hobby, try to stay on good terms with the tenants of my rentals that provide my income, do a repair now and then on one of them, and keep contact with my neighbors to a minimum.
For a guy who spent twenty five years living in the wilderness, twenty of them alone, this is quite a change being among these non-survival types. There’s not a single person on the block who would last 30 days in the places I’ve lived, and the only reason I’m here now is because I simply grew too old to be living alone in the woods.
Don’t you know I miss it, though, especially on nights like these with idiot neighbors who don’t know when to shut up. It’s almost midnight and they’re still at it.



Your Leader. Here I am, eating grass. Pretty good grass. Do you like my ear tag? I wonder what it's for.