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jaunthieThe house I grew up in is on a cul-de-sac, a quiet little dead-end street with just thirteen homes on it. Needless to say, it was easy to know your neighbors. Several of the houses belonged to families with children around the same age as me and my siblings, and we regularly ran in and out of each other's houses almost as if they were our own. Even those neighbors who were more reserved were still recognizable by sight and by name.
My home now is on a modest arterial street, fairly busy with traffic from morning through evening. In such a busy environment, it's harder to know your neighbors. I know my immediate neighbors fairly well to talk to and chat with, but most of the rest of the street, it's much more of a "I know the face in passing" kind of recognition, no real relationship outside of a nod and smile or a "how d'you do?" when walking by. Events sometimes bring us together more noticably, such as the sparkler bomb incident or major storms, where equipment gets lent out and offers of support are exchanged, but by and large my neighbors are semi-familiar strangers.
That doesn't stop me from keeping an eye out, however. It's just how I was raised, a by-product of growing up in the neighborhood that I did. And some neighbors attract my attention more than others. For instance, an older gentleman lives on my block. I met him shortly after moving in, and I used to see him almost every morning as I walked past his house on the way to the bus stop. He was an early riser, and we'd frequently wave to each other in the early-morning gloom. He's somewhat frail in appearance, and I know he's got several people checking in on him regularly, but I like to keep an eye out for him all the same. My bus stop has changed, so I don't see him as much as I used to, but it's still habit to check for him if I happen to be walking that way.
Yesterday evening I remembered I had books waiting for me at the library. I grabbed my bag and walked out to get them, and along the way, there he was, working on replacing a few boards in the low picket fence around his rose bed. The library was scheduled to close soon, but I stopped to say hello. He clearly recognized me and was obviously happy I'd stopped to chat. We shook hands and talked for a little while, discussing the weather and watering chores and the like, and then I went on my way, feeling much happier for the exchange.
And I don't even know his name.
I might have, once; with my swiss-cheese brain for names, it's entirely possible that it came up once or even several times, and I just forgot it. But it's also entirely possible that I've never known it.
Lessons learned from this:
1. Take the time to stop and meet the neighbors when I can, just like I try to remind myself to stop and smell the roses in my garden. I'll feel much better for the experience.
2. When I do, not only say hello, but introduce myself - and ask the other person's name in return.
3. Despite occasional strides, I'm still a long ways from being a naturally social person. At this point, I think that's unlikely to change, but I can at least keep making efforts.
Sigh.
My home now is on a modest arterial street, fairly busy with traffic from morning through evening. In such a busy environment, it's harder to know your neighbors. I know my immediate neighbors fairly well to talk to and chat with, but most of the rest of the street, it's much more of a "I know the face in passing" kind of recognition, no real relationship outside of a nod and smile or a "how d'you do?" when walking by. Events sometimes bring us together more noticably, such as the sparkler bomb incident or major storms, where equipment gets lent out and offers of support are exchanged, but by and large my neighbors are semi-familiar strangers.
That doesn't stop me from keeping an eye out, however. It's just how I was raised, a by-product of growing up in the neighborhood that I did. And some neighbors attract my attention more than others. For instance, an older gentleman lives on my block. I met him shortly after moving in, and I used to see him almost every morning as I walked past his house on the way to the bus stop. He was an early riser, and we'd frequently wave to each other in the early-morning gloom. He's somewhat frail in appearance, and I know he's got several people checking in on him regularly, but I like to keep an eye out for him all the same. My bus stop has changed, so I don't see him as much as I used to, but it's still habit to check for him if I happen to be walking that way.
Yesterday evening I remembered I had books waiting for me at the library. I grabbed my bag and walked out to get them, and along the way, there he was, working on replacing a few boards in the low picket fence around his rose bed. The library was scheduled to close soon, but I stopped to say hello. He clearly recognized me and was obviously happy I'd stopped to chat. We shook hands and talked for a little while, discussing the weather and watering chores and the like, and then I went on my way, feeling much happier for the exchange.
And I don't even know his name.
I might have, once; with my swiss-cheese brain for names, it's entirely possible that it came up once or even several times, and I just forgot it. But it's also entirely possible that I've never known it.
Lessons learned from this:
1. Take the time to stop and meet the neighbors when I can, just like I try to remind myself to stop and smell the roses in my garden. I'll feel much better for the experience.
2. When I do, not only say hello, but introduce myself - and ask the other person's name in return.
3. Despite occasional strides, I'm still a long ways from being a naturally social person. At this point, I think that's unlikely to change, but I can at least keep making efforts.
Sigh.
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Date: 2009-07-22 05:33 pm (UTC)Seriously.
I really need to ask him. Or at least tell him mine. (Though... I don't actually have a Chinese name. One of my professors called me "Keli", for Kehl, but a) he wasn't Chinese, though he was quite the linguist and b) I'm not sure if in that context it would mean more "able to do a lot of things" which would be okay or "permissive" which... no. Okay, it's probably the former.)
Yesterday's word of the day was chou you (both fourth tone). Skunk. And they have them in China too. One of the things that I really like about him is that he notices things - like that the rose of sharon near where we practice is *covered* in buds (bo) and will soon be covered in flowers. Or the rabbits droppings (we're infested with rabbits, and talk about them a fair bit). So when he saw a skunk, he stopped his form to point it out to me, only to see that I'd already seen it...
He also thinks that "robin" and "rabbit" sound far too much alike. And I have been thoroughly chastised for not having gone to see niagra falls. (I really hope I have a chance to go hiking while I'm in town. I want to take pictures of the kind of waterfalls we get in the Cascades - not so big, but so pretty.)
no subject
Date: 2009-07-23 08:17 pm (UTC)The families next door to us are also Vietnamese. The landlady is Binh but she is rarely at home. The family in the mother in law apartment are Trin, his wife Tranh and their young son.
I know 'em and I certainly know their faces, but at the drop of a hat I can't, CAN NOT, remember their names.
Of course it took me six years to get Diane and Roger up the street firmly ensconced in my brain with names and faces. And I can remember Ted who lives across the street from Diane and Roger, but for the life of me I can't remember his wife's name except that I know it's not Nancy.
Don't even get me started on the wife and mother of the family who live down the street. All I can remember of her name is "It's Greek for Madonna" which is how she was introduced to us by her elderly mother in law who lived across the street from us at the time.
Name tags. Without a doubt.
--J