Won't You (Not) Be My Neighbor?

 I don’t remember exactly when our next door neighbors moved in. The house had sat empty for several years until the newcomers showed up. I’m not sure if they bought the property or are renting it. I don’t remember seeing a for sale sign. I remember the first time I realized someone was living there. I was home alone from work because I was not feeling well. I was napping on the couch in our living room, which has windows looking out on the neighbors front yard. I was startled awake by someone screaming and pounding on a door. Concerned, I peaked outside and saw a visibly angry young man stalking up and down the sidewalk in the neighbors yard, screaming and pounding on their front door. I was about to call the cops when I heard him scream, “Mom! Open the !@#$% door!” He ranted and raved for probably close to an hour before successfully waking his mother and gaining access to the house. Welcome to the neighborhood neighbors. I liked it better when this house was empty. I had issues with a previous owner, who also screamed obscenities, only they were directed at me or my dog. He actually frightened me because I don’t think he was mentally stable. I was quite happy when he moved away. Now, we have this young man who also seems to struggle with mental health issues. During the pandemic, when I was attending my weekly women’s empowerment meetings in the van (for privacy) he would inevitably end up in a screaming match with a young woman that often ended in things being thrown at her car or into the street (don’t get me started on their trash in the street issue). On Memorial Day, when our other next door neighbors had a party, I heard someone sobbing outside and was concerned for the young woman who tends to be on the receiving end of the young man’s screaming diatribes.  I sent Primero off to check on her, but he couldn’t find her. I was concerned she might be the victim of more than just verbal abuse, so I try to keep an eye out for her.

 

Beyond the tirades, my latest issue with these neighbors are the pungent smells of their marijuana wafting into my backyard while I am outside with my children. First of all, I detest the smell of pot. It smells like skunk spray to me and is simply gross. Secondly, I do not want my children to be around someone smoking pot (or smoking anything at all) so when they start, we go inside. But, that is not fair to my children, who have a right to be in their backyard playing. The way our houses are situated, my house sits on the front of the property, right on the sidewalk. So, we don’t have a front yard, just small spots for a flower garden. Their house sits on the back of the property so they have a large front yard but not much of a backyard. This means their front deck in in line with our backyard. So, the smoke from their favorite pastime wafts easily into our yard. I hate it. Marijuana is not legal in our state, other than for medicinal purposes and sold through a state-approved facility to someone with a medical marijuana card. Obviously I do not know their medical status, but often times it is a group of young men, so I will go out on a limb and guess it isn’t being used for medicinal purposes. Their flagrant disregard for the law chafes me, but even more so is their pollution of the air around our home. I am powerless to stop it, which only makes me more angry about it. I wish we had the resources to move, but that is also not a possibility. I am also not super comfortable talking to them, given the young man’s outbursts and public displays of aggression. My kids like talking to the neighbors and are always calling out hello, or asking to pet their dogs. So, I guess I just have to work on getting over it. Bring the kids inside when necessary and talk to them about being good neighbors (and probably start talking about drug use in an age-appropriate way). Just add that to our list of things to learn while home this first quarter.

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