Neighborliness

When I was a little girl I knew all my neighbors on Bolmer Avenue. I even knew many of the people who lived in the Greystone apartments and Tudor Woods. Everyone knew who belonged in the neighborhood and who did not. Everyone greeted each other by name.

When I moved to Dobbs Ferry I also knew all my neighbors. When we moved  in some of the neighbors sent over cakes to welcome us.  Everyone waved and said hello.

When I bought my first house in Garden City, only one neighbor--my neighbor Catherine rang my bell. And when I drove down the street and waved hello to the people who lived on my block, they did not wave back. I wondered if I was made of glass.

When I bought my second house in Garden City my neighbor Bea and her husband Blaine greeted me hello as did my next door neighbors to the east of me. And my neighbor Adele who lived directly behind me, who had moved from Bay Ridge the year before, came through the bushes to also say hello. But that was it. Adele told me not to take it personally. It was the culture of the town she said.

Around 6 or 7 years ago my husband and I noticed that at least once or twice  a month---no matter what restaurant we went into, whether it was here in town or not, the same couple was there. And I knew who the woman was—she walked everyday with a woman I knew from PTA. And everyday I would wave to the 2 woman when I drove a child of mine to school, and both women would wave back. But when the woman was by herself or with her husband she did not.

The woman and her husband are neighbors—they live on the opposite side of the street from me--about 8 houses down. They are about 10 years or so older than my husband and I. They have the same style Tudor house. They also have the same color blue door as me—but I had it first. And from what I was told their house was also on a house tour at one time as was mine—and I understand the décor is very very similar. At Christmas we decorate our house the same way. The husband drives the same car as my husband.  They were neighbors with seemingly lots of things in common yet we did not know one another. We (my husband and I) affectionately called them “our stalkers.”

And we never spoke or acknowledged each other in all the years we kept crossing paths—even though I knew we were neighbors and I knew several of her friends. And it got so creepy that my husband and I would look for their car in the parking lot when we would arrive at a restaurant. Many times we were not disappointed. And the funny thing was we were always seated near each other, but not so near to strike up a conversation. A few times I tried smiling at them, but the gaze was always averted. I took it to mean that they were also perplexed with the continual schedule alignment.

Because this much I knew for sure--they were likely to be nice people. I decided this because of the company they kept. The common acquaintances were all lovely people. And this is one of the criteria I use when assessing whether a person is friendship worthy or not—in chemistry it is called “like dissolves like”—if the posse of friends are okay, then the person in the posse that I do not know is more likely than not to be okay too. “Like people” attract “like people.”

And after 6 or 7 years of path crossing, common acquaintance and physical location is what finally brought the weirdness to an end. I went to lunch one day at a restaurant in town where the tables are physically very very close together. And my friend Diane and I were seated next to the stalker woman and her friend who just happened to be Briana’s nursery school teacher many years ago. And I thought Oh my God maybe bizzarro-world will finally be shattered. And Briana’s former teacher noticed me and we began to talk. And the stalker woman turned to me and said you look familiar. And I was so excited that she gave me that tiny bit of recognition that I flipped into overtalking. And I told her we were neighbors and we both had the same style Tudor and the same colored door and our husbands drove the same car. And I was a bit too over-animated and blabbed way too much information for a first time encounter--it was much more information than she knew about me.  As it turned out I was the stalker—not the other way around.

There are some not-so-new neighbors that live across from me. And I have attempted to engage them for as many years as they are now living here but I have been repeatedly rebuffed. I have given up even trying although my neighbor Andy tells me that they are very nice people. Apparently Andy is not made of glass like I am. I often wonder about what Adele once told me—to not take it personally—it was just cultural. But sometimes I still take it personally---I am a person. And while it may be a part of this town’s culture to keep your head down and mind your own business, I prefer the days when I was little and I knew everyone on the block and everyone knew me—the days when neighbors baked a cake for the newcomers and then gossiped all about them.