Mending Wall and All That

It is interesting, this time that we are living in.
I met the daughter of our neighbors today.
Granted, these are neighbors that don't really speak to us.
They live directly next to us--across a hedge--and I've always thought that they seemed nice enough--even if they do have a Republican sign in their yard.
But they've been very To Themselves while we've been here.
I've not really thought much of it, but today the hairdresser was talking about how they thought the woman who lived in my house before me was certifiably insane.
Now granted, she did seem a bit mousy and odd, but nice. She was a day care owner and a mom.
I asked what she used to do, and the hairdresser said, "she used to sing at the top of her lungs when no one else was home."
Hmmm...I thought...that doesn't seem TOO weird.
"And she chased cars."
Now that one was Very Strange. I said, "what do you mean chased cars." Inwardly, I was thinking, you mean as in dogs chasing cars?
She said, "well if men were working across the street, she would go out and talk to them."
* * *
The comments bothered me because I don't think the woman was insane.
She was strange--a little eccentric, I think.
But I got to thinking about the way that people interact in America today. We often don't talk to each other. I'm guilty of doing this too. Life gets busy, and we don't have a whole heck of a lot in common with them.
We do have relationships with our other neighbors--friendly-ish...but not them.
* * *
And then I thought of some of my behaviors that might be interpreted as "strange."
Like I am 36, and I ride a skateboard.
Like sometimes I have slightly purple hair.
Like I enjoy leather jackets.
* * *
And the whole thing made me sad: sad because really it shouldn't matter. We should be free to sing if we so choose. We should be able to express ourselves in the beautiful multitudinal ways that we do.
We are selling our house now, and I can just imagine what will be said about me by these particular neighbors.
I was a super-neighborhood-watch-sleuth person last winter when our other neighbors' employee was suspected (and later arrested) on murder charges.
During that time--for a period of weeks--I wrote down license plate numbers of cars that lingered too long in our driveway.
I was a new mom again, and I was jumpy.
But I had reason to be: our neighbor, who has a business that is partially run out the house, employed a man who was arrested for murdering two people in a rather savage way.
These same neighbors (with whom we are friendly) reportedly had the keys to our house (the previous tenants told me).
I think they've since been lost, which is not comforting in light of what happened.
* * *
Alas, so many misunderstandings occur between people when they don't exchange more than cursory glances and polite waves from the ends of driveways.
As for us, I'll try to make some connection again with these neighbors--perhaps even have them over for wine.
For if we are to change a culture that isolates us from one another, it will have to be one step at a time.
I am also slightly glad to be moving though the neighbor situation is always a challenge.
Our old neighbors in Vermont accused of us of stealing their ATV! As if!
The whole incident colored the way I viewed them and the way they viewed me.
The same neighbor told me that he thought that writing wasn't really Work.
It was just Thinking about Work.
Needless to say, we weren't terribly friendly with them...
And yet now I believe that perhaps this is the gift of neighbors: to help us bridge these gaps, to help us to connect despite our differences.