Fence Gossip

I had just finished mowing the back yard when my neighbor came to hang some things on his clothes line. As often happens, he called me over to chat.

Now, Edgar has lived in the neighborhood since 1959, so he knows a lot of its history. For example, he knows the creek which abuts the north side of our property has not flooded since sometime in the early 70s.

When he moved in, it was a natural creek, and even had some fish. Then, sometime in the early 60s, a carwash opened at the west end of the creek, and dumped its soapy water in. That was it for the fish.

The last significant flood was in 1955, before he and his wife (now deceased) moved in. The water came up to his back door steps.  In the 60s, the water only came half-way up the yard. After concrete was poured into the banks and the bed of the river in the 70s, it didn't flood anymore.

Ed often likes to talk about the house to the west of my house (he lives in the house immediately east of mine). The woman who lived there died two years ago, and her son-in-law has been remodeling it. Ed seems quite perturbed that he hasn't sold it or leased it out yet.  "Isn't that strange?" he says.

"Well, I don't know," I'll say, "I'm pretty sure he's remodeling it, and that can take a long time."

Then he started talking about the house directly across the creek from my house. "They're colored," he said, and his tone of voice conveyed a different
word altogether. "I don't ever see them in the back yard.  They don't mow
it, or maintain it. They keep their blinds drawn all the time.

"Isn't that strange?"

"Well, I don't know. Don't suppose it's any of my business." By which I also meant to say it wasn't any of his business, either. It was a lot to try to pack into a tone of voice. 

"They've lived there 8 or 10 years, but they keep those blinds drawn all the time.  Isn't that strange?"

I didn't point out that the windows he's seeing face south. If you want to keep your heating bill reasonable, you keep the blinds on the south side of your house closed, especially in summer.  In fact, most of the blinds in my house are drawn, for that reason. 

I didn't care for the tone of judgmentalism, but I knew I was unlikely to change his ways by saying something.

I have a standard thing I say to myself when I sense I'm about to pass judgment on how someone else does something: "Well, it's a choice.  It may not be the choice I would make, but that's ok.  It's their choice, not mine." Then I drop the matter from my mind.

I know I don't care to be judged in this fashion. That's why I keep this neighbor at arm's length. I've never let him collect my mail when I'm out of town, for example. I have no doubt he would be looking through it and wondering why I subscribe to this magazine, or (potentially) donate to that charity.

I can only imagine how he would respond if he picked up Shambhala Sun from my mailbox one day. "What's a good Christian doing, reading a Buddhist magazine?  Isn't that strange?"