The Neighbors and Questions That Remain

A little less than 5 years ago, when Hubs and I were newly married, the house next door to us was for sale. (This is the house of whom we now know to be Michelle, courtesy of nutty 'nice).

We noticed that the “for sale” sign was gone and assumed someone would be moving in shortly. I hoped to meet them and know when they moved in.

Well, be careful what you wish for, right?

One Saturday around lunchtime, Hubs and I were coming home from running errands. We turned into the neighborhood and saw this:

Can’t tell what it is? Let’s try this closer image:

At first glance, it appears to be a moving truck backing into a driveway. Normal stuff, right?

We kind of wondered why there were so many cars parked on the street but assumed someone was having a party.

WELL, we drive closer trying to get home only to realize the moving truck is parked (or abandoned?) in the middle of the street. No people near the moving van. No people appear to be at the house. No quickly scratched note taped to the truck offering an explanation or a “sorry for the massive inconvenience but the truck died.” Or “we could have put it in neutral and moved it slightly so that cars could squeeze by but decided not to. haha!”

Nothing.

We start to clue in that the half of a mile of cars lined up on the road are all the people’s cars who live further down the street, past the moving truck, but cannot get to their house. They had to park and walk to their house! To the very end of the neighborhood is another half of a mile. Quite the unexpected exercise for some of our neighbors.

And what about the people with cars on the other side of the van? There is only one entrance/exit to our neighborhood. They were stuck in the neighborhood, blocked by the truck. You couldn’t even pull up on the grass to go around because there are utility polls and trees blocking the way on both sides of the street.

This truck stayed abandoned through the evening. We never saw them come and move it, but I can only assume that there are neighbors who wonder WHAT THE HECK they were doing for the 8 plus hours that the truck blocked our neighborhood. Out to dinner? Shopping? Exploring the new area? are simply curious as to the details. Not me, but you know, "neighbors."

Surely there is an interesting behind the scenes story there, right?

Yes, this was Michelle and her family moving in. I do like the family from the little interaction we have had. I think they tried to keep a low profile for the first few months they were there. That, or they just think we're weird and tried to avoid us.

I guess I will never know the story behind the story.

My Neighbor(s)

This could really be a 20 part series, but I will start with just this one post.

I have some, um, interesting neighbors. And who doesn't, really? And, yes, I know I probably serve for some good fodder and entertainment for them as well. But that is not the point. At least not today.

One neighbor, in particular, is extra entertaining/challenging to love. We'll just call her *Bernice.

My first awareness of Bernice's existence was a loud one. One Saturday morning a few years ago, hubs and I were still in bed asleep. I think it was around 7:30 am (obviously, this was before we had any kids). And we were awakened by the loudest, most relentless car horn. I got out of bed to see this lady in a beat up blue car pulled up parallel to our across the street neighbor's house. Our across the street neighbor, Katherine, was a sweet and elderly lady. Which essentially meant she was slow-moving. No amount of aggressive horn honking was going to make her move any faster. But Bernice seemed unconcerned and unfazed by that obvious fact. She honked for at least 10 minutes. I was a touch annoyed. Just a touch. Have I mentioned I am NOT a morning person?

Anyways, this became a regular occurrence. I got used to it like one gets used to morning sickness.

Eventually sweet Katherine moved to a retirement home and Bernice stopped her weekly honking.

A couple of weeks after our first child was born, but before Katherine moved to her retirement home, Katherine informed me of the fact that Bernice's house was broken into and several expensive items were taken. Up until this point, I didn't even know Bernice lived in our neighborhood, but Katherine told me where she lived and she said something like, "you may not have seen her before, but she comes by sometimes and gives me rides." Oh, YESSER, I have seen her. And HEARD her.

A couple of weeks later, Bernice flagged down my husband outside while he was cutting the grass and asked/demanded that he come over to her house to sit with her while she was having a workman in her house. She apparently was quite shaken by the robbery and didn't want to be in her house alone with a workman. Never mind the fact that she didn't know my hubs at all.

Hubs was uncomfortable going over to her house by himself and someone had to stay with our baby, so he came inside and asked me to go sit with her. I did.

That was the longest 2 hours of my life ever. And I will never get back my blissful ignorance of her. I long for that blissful ignorance to this day.

During that time that I sat with her at her house, she talked non-stop. She told me many colorful things which included, but is by no means limited to, the following:

-That she died on the operating room table in 1986 but God was not ready for her yet, so he sent her back.

-That she, um, designs, um, adult-entertainment rooms for "old fogies in Florida". She has one of these rooms at her house. She insisted that I see it. And, honestly and thankfully, I am too naive to even know what I saw. Praise the Lord!

-That she sold a business of hers to the mafia. She would tell me more about it, but it would endanger me.

I am not sure what Bernice's story is. I don't know if she is mentally unstable or if she is a brilliant story teller or if any of it is true.

Regardless, I stand in awe of her audaciousness, both in horn honking and story telling.

*Name changed to protect the guilty.