Isolation

We know hardly anybody in our neighbourhood though we've lived here for more than three years.

Through no real conscious effort we have gotten to know the families in the houses to either side of us.  One is a young couple, early 20s, who have a daughter four months older than our toddler.  The two kids get along quite well.  Amy spent several months babysitting the girl during the day when the wife went back to work after her maternity leave was up.  The husband and I swap tools and sweat equity as needed and sometimes lean elbows over the fence we share to make idle mumblings about wives and kids and work.

On the other side of us is a retired couple; the inside of their house dates back to the era of my birth.  The husband is the wife's second and she has kids and grandkids from her previous marriage.  The husband and I have sort of an uspoken competition to see who can shovel our shared sidewalk first during the winter after each snowfall.  We're about even on that score.  We borrow their lawnmower when ours isn't working.

Across the street from us live a middle aged couple with a 10 year-old son.  Our first exposure to them came shortly before our wedding.  The piper we hired was strutting his stuff, inflating his bag and moaning expansively, in our backyard.  (There is little that draws attention quite like a set of bagpipes unleashing aural hell in sleepy suburbia.)  Over the fence popped a white-haired head, topped by the foppish brown of his son astride his shoulders.  That was our introduction. 

Fast forward to this spring when there was an ambulance parked outside our house to take Amy and our baby to the hospital, from whence Amy - at the time still gestating said baby - had just been discharged.  The wife from across the street anxiously made known their ability to look after our toddler if I needed to go and be with my wife for whatever reason was taking her to the hospital.  The neighbour lady was relieved to hear (and I was amused at her reaction) that our second boy had just been born rather unexpectedly all over our bedroom in the presence of six large uniformed men.  We've gotten to know those neighbours a little better since then.

That's it.  Three years in this neighbourhood and we know three families by dint of obligation, bagpipes and medical emergency.

I was at the pharmacy last winter and waited behind an attractive young woman.  I overheard her tell the pharmacist her address and I realised that she lives two houses down from us, on the other side of the retired couple.  I'd never even seen this woman before and I can hit her front step from my own with a well-hauked lugie.

Part of the appeal of suburban living is the relaxed atmosphere, heightened sense of security and community that more urban locales can't deliver.  I find it ironic then that the inclination - not unique to us - is to entrench ourselves inside of a pseudo-urban facade and conduct our daily lives as if hindered by an urban jungle rather than through use of the open spaces that connect us all so conveniently.

In that respect, I'm looking even more forward to when our boys are of an age to interact with school friends and neighbours.  We'll be forced, through them, to come out of the domestic bubble we've formed around ourselves since our first son was born.

Comments

[Mark]

We're so with you on this one. To slightly alter a commonly known phrase, "You can pick your friends, but you can't pick your neighbors." We frequently find ourselves waving to acquainted neighbors while we drive away to see our chosen friends. Not to say we don't enjoy some of our neighbors' company, but sometimes you click better with people a few miles away than those within spitting distance.

Nevertheless, it makes me feel a bit odd that we don't know hang around them more. I suspect we will once the temperatures stay below 100 consistently (only 87 today, whoo-hoo!)

By the way, now you can totally stalk that hot chick from the pharmacy (what, you guys don't call it the "chemist?").

[Alec Lynch]

When it comes to meeting people that live close by, kids really have the advantage over adults. I'm trying to remember the last time I just went up to someone and said "hiya, my name's Alec, wanna play." I think I was about eight. And of course I can't do it now without it appearing as a come on anyway!

By the way, when you and your neighbour sweat equity, are you perspiring fairness or stocks? ;)

[dixie]

We have a rental house next to ours and there have been 3 people in and out in the past 4 years we've been here. The last people to move in were here for several months before I met them... at the baby immunization clinic downtown.

[Linda]

I feel fortunate that we "neighbor" with most of our neighbors. A lot of the reason is due to one dude in particular, right next-door who is a real out-going, fun-loving family guy and is friends with practically everyone within a one-mile radius of his home. He has lots of parties, and for the most part, our neighborhood is kinda like one big happy family. It's great, we all look out for eachother. Good times and bad.

[TerriTorial]

We lived in a townhouse for almost 7 years and rarely associated with out neighbors..and we shared a wall! Now in a house for the past year we have gotten to know our one neighbor well and the others, well we talk, take each others garbage out and what not but no real connection.

We often talk about moving to an acerage our a small town. I don't know if I could live on an acerage. I want to scream and know my neighbors would hear my distress. I'm wierd like that.

[marian]

The neighborhood we were in when Max was younger was lower income and way more friendly. Everyone had kids. Everyone was struggling to get by and we were all out in our yards all the time. There were no fences and the kids all ran freely from house to house. There was a playground and field across the dead-end street, and the elementary school three blocks away. It was great.

Then we moved to a neighborhood where people may not even say hi when they see you on the street! It's slightly higher income, but not very much. Houses are a little further apart and there aren't many kids, but I don't think that completely explains the insular nature of the place.

[Simon]

Mark,
I think it's more like the alchemist. Only slightly more reliable than in days of yore.

Alec,
If I could sweat stocks I'd quit my job and start bottling my arm-pit leavings. Which reminds me of a funny Kids in the Hall skit where Scott Thompson did just that.

Linda,
That's more the neighbourhood I'd like to participate in. Maybe we'll have to host summer parties next year and BE that guy you mentioned.

Terri,
We would love to move to an acreage given the opportunity. We'd be much less inclined to scream and, when we did, it would be harder for people to hear us.

Marian,
Increasing affluence does seem to go hand in hand with decreasing amounts of community influence, doesn't it?

[TerriTorial]

What kind of screaming are we talking about here????

I'm talking about "A hatchet wielding crazy man just broke down my front door" kind of scream.

[Simon]

I'm talking about the, "Oh my god the house is a cesspool of squalour and I can't tell if I want to strangle the small dog or my first-born more..." sort of screaming.

That, or the sort of screaming associated with complete sexual abandon.

Whichever.

[Paula]

It's definitely part of the North American culture to be individual and independent from the community. Having just been to South America, all you have to do is roll down your window, ask someone if they know so-and-so's house, and they do! First though, you greet that person on the road warmly and shake their hand. It's amazing what a culture of eye contact and greetings can do for building community.

[TerriTorial]

Oh I scream like that too!!!! The first one..I'm talking about the first one. Really.