New Neighbors

Today there's an open house at the unit across from ours. Lots of loud female laughter, cell phone conversations that, as usual, sound as if the caller is trying to connect with the other person without the aid of a phone, in other words by the old fashioned method of SHOUTING to reach across the distance. It makes me think about who the new residents might be and if they will have bought or rented the unit and what difference that might make to their level of activity and noise.

We've not missed the previous resident's noisy motorcycle revving and outings always perfectly timed for our weekend afternoon naps, nor his surly attitude, walking past without greeting or eye contact. When I saw he was remodeling I joked that after he'd fixed it up he'd like it so much he'd never want to move and he assured me that wouldn't be so, giving a hard little laugh. He was in his fifties, had four cars, including a red Corvette, which, according to my son is a sure advertisement for "limp dick". He also had another house where he sometimes parked his cars. The economy must be pressing down on him if he's selling the condo before the house and cars, the rumor being that condo sales are moving better than single family homes. As a renter myself, I'm not particularly sympathetic to luxury problems like which piece of property to sell off first. As a renter, I'm aware that my landlord could put my home on the market at any time. So, bottom line, nothing is all that secure, and as my wise son reminds me often, ownership of property is an illusion anyway. Still I must say I liked that illusion when I had it, and enjoyed the option to plant and grow a few things and make changes if I wanted to.I miss that much and the view and wild animals who visited the backyard at the old house, the herd of stags resting under the old oak.

I think about what was important to me when I was last looking at places to rent three years ago. Location, landscaping, privacy and noise level were very important. Got suckered on the last item, however, as the landlords deliberately lied about the crazy screecher mom with a mentally ill child in the adjacent unit. Her rants are also synched to our weekend naps. But I am used to them now and honestly my heart goes out to both the mother and the child. Once when she was ranting on her deck and the child was hiding from her in the bushes, I called up to her clearly but softly, telling her that she needed to stop being so loud because she was scaring her child and she quieted down immediately. She was quiet for a long time after that too, so something must have penetrated. She knows that I will speak up, and that's important to both of us. I resolved this year to blow whistles when necessary and I have kept my word.

Lifestyle and noise levels go together so it seems and part of me longs to be out in the country, ostensibly "away from it all" yet when I was relegated to a converted barn-cum-cottage for a couple of years, the stink from the dairy farm and the whizzing droves of cyclists along our little formerly quiet lane turned me off. But the idea is creeping in again. I wonder what fantasy is developing, or is intruding, about the peace of mind that absence of noise will achieve. Meditation teachers will be holding their splitting sides by now at the notion that absence of people guarantees peace of mind.

The realtor is trooping another set of clients through the unit as I write, this time a man's voice is included. Part of me hopes the new people will be a young couple as I'm at the age where I really enjoy the outlook and energy of those in their twenties and thirties; it's as if I'm a youth vampire. Maybe that's it. My encroaching years may be sending out signals that warn me of how I'll feel an urge to feed off the energy of others when my own is waning. Well, I say poo to that! May we be, instead, a resource to the young, for those who want it at least. Come and get it kiddos, wisdom(my own definition of course)and funny (to me at least) old stories await. Or is that just the misguided bravado of the elderly speaking?

So now the realtor is talking about someone being sent to the local drying-out place instead of some other rehab and now I'm thinking, great, we could get drunks as new neighbors, drunks who fight and are then filled with noisy sniveling remorse. Well, poo on that idea, too. I'm the whistle blower, right? I'll know what to do. And maybe, if we're lucky, the unit will be empty for a while and we'll just enjoy some absence of gate latches banging, engines, late night electric guitar solos fueled by summer beer. That'd be nice for us, if not great for the economy. Maybe we can split the difference here and accept what and who is to come.