I Am That Neighbor

I have to confess. I am that neighbor.?

Ole Man Gosseck who’s one step ahead of those meddling kids and that talking Great Dane.?

At first glance, you could mistake my home for either being haunted by the phantom and a mystery ready to be solved, or the meth den you will see on the local news.?

“Live at 11. Meth Lab uncovered as local man haunts neighborhood dressed as a ghost.”

My pitbull doesn’t talk, but she sure as hell barks a lot. Just ask the neighbors.?

I should clarify, there is no meth lab. Ghosts, well that is up for debate.

Funny though, I was never like this. It just well, evolved.?

In the beginning, I was very active in the neighborhood. I went to the meetings. In the mornings, I would walk up and down my street and in the local park picking up trash.?

I would clean off all of the sewer drains at the ends of the block so the basements of the homes on the corner wouldn’t flood. When it was time for me to harvest my garden, I would share my bounty with any stranger who would walk by.?

When my neighbors let their dogs shit in front of the house, I cleaned it up without batting an eye. I borrowed my tools so the renters on the street could make the repairs their landlords failed to fix.?

I was involved. I didn’t rock the boat.?

It wasn’t until a year and a half into home ownership did I start to withdraw. I purchased the empty lot by my house and fenced it in. I began to close myself off from knowing the neighborhood more intimately.?

I stayed away.??

The Red Robin invites went unanswered. I ignored the monthly meetings altogether. I only shared my tomatoes and peppers at the end of the summer with a small chosen few.?

I stopped picking up the empty cans and fast food containers. I left the leaves piled up in the storm drains and made excuses as to why my tools could not be loaned.?

The neighborhood was making me sour. My optimism waning. I stopped trusting my neighbors.?

The signs were there, and so was my naivety about being a part of something that didn’t want me.?

It wasn’t one instance, but many that forced my hand to course correct.?

Prior to purchasing the empty lot, the neighbors would use the field as a dumping ground for food and animal waste.?

The neighborhood kids would play ball and light fireworks right under my bedroom windows.?

Their parents would give me the stink eye when I would ask them to tell their children to go play in the park.?

At first, it didn’t deter me from being a good neighbor. I still picked up the trash and shit every morning.?

And it wasn’t until the guy three houses down fell asleep one summer evening in his tight whites under my window that I approached the city to purchase the lot. One week later I fenced it in.?

It all went downhill from there.?

The neighbors were in an uproar. I blocked several paths for homeowners to reach their yards. Where were the kids going to play? I had no business fencing in the lot.?

I would be accosted by strangers who didn’t even live on my block. People started stealing my planter boxes off of the porch.?

One morning I woke up to the severed body of a rabbit with a circle of blood painted on the sidewalk in front of the house. That was one of many vandalized instances that frustrated me further.?

And every morning I would have to pick up discarded food in the yard from people throwing it over the fence.?

The friendly faces of the neighborhood stopped smiling. I got the cold shoulder every time I would do lawn work.?

It just got progressively worse as time went on and I started to hesitate.?

I retreated into my house and yard. I didn’t acknowledge any of the newcomers buying homes or talk to the landlords who seldom visited to find their property long vacated after a midnight move.?

I became a spectator. I became that neighbor.?

When the guy at the end of the block OD, I closed my door. I stood there and watched as kids vandalized the apartments with sticks and did nothing.?

When the caravans of homeless descended on the park every summer, leaving needles and empty liquor bottles tucked in sleeping bags, I watched from my porch.

And in this descent, I neglected the yard. I stopped caring what my house looked like. For me, I wanted to get as far away from my neighbors as possible.?

My only solution was to hide indoors.?

The neighbors that stole from me. The neighbors would creep into my driveway at night to pick my flowers. The same neighbors that shunned me from helping.?

In the few instances that I swallowed my pride and waved to dismissed hellos, I was reminded that I had made the right choice by staying away.?

Now, the neighbors give me a wide berth. They don’t bother with me. They leave me alone. Which is the way I like it.

I am the hermit that people speculate about. If I gender-swapped, I would be the crazy cat lady one house away from the corner.??

They had their chance at my support. They squandered it by being everything but neighborly.?

So at first glance, I am the guy who doesn’t come out of his house. My home looks vacant and cursed. The place you would expect squatters to find a corner room to call their own.?

?Or a meth lab haunted by a phantom crackhead who runs around in a grey-fitted bed sheet.

There is a silver lining to all of this and a lesson to be learned.?

And it is a healthy dose of reality.?

I don’t have to be neighborly and neither do the residents on my street. It was unrealistic of me to think that by some miracle we all would get along and work together.?

That’s bullshit.?

The lesson I learned is that I made a stupid mistake by overextending myself. Someone told me that as adults we are under pressure to befriend any and everyone. It’s not realistic.?

Nor should it be an expectation.?

Some of us thrive in these types of environments. I am not one of them. Not everyone is meant for far-reaching circles. Another piece of advice from that same friend.?

Sometimes a neighborhood is everything but a community.?

The silver lining is knowing that I gave it my all and it just wasn’t good enough. And that is ok. It is what it is. Community is the people that look out for you, which doesn’t mean they have to share the same zip code.?

I feel no ill will towards anyone. My neighbors are trying to live too. Just like me.??

It’s normal for people to want to belong to something. Especially in your neighborhood.

What is not okay is fooling yourself into thinking everyone must be your friend or your neighbor.??

And if you turn on the local news, and you see a police raid on an old abandoned amusement park haunted by a ghost, just know I had nothing to do with it.

That meth lab is probably the work of Ole Man Crowley, the real estate developer 6 blocks over, who’s trying to scare the neighbors into selling.

“I would’ve gotten away with it too if it wasn’t for those meddling kids. And that dog too.” - Ole Man Crowley?

As for me, I got a restraining order on those meddling kids and that talking dog.?

Ruh Roh Rooby Ruh!

I am that neighbor.