What a sweet, endearing piece. I live in a similar neighborhood in Tucson. I identify completely, but its my social husband who names each child and adult as we walk past for our daily walks, not just to help his memory, but to bless them all. No ICE
Oh my. 😭😭😭 I have had many of the same neighbors for the 13 years I’ve lived where I do. It’s such a strange thing to know so few of the “facts” of people’s lives, and yet witness them so intimately in a way that many people they know “more closely” don’t. This is a such a beautifully written piece.
I hope T saw this. I'm sure she'd appreciate it, understand your description of neighborly relationships. They are friends, some closer than others. I - we - are fortunate here. Our neighbors are our friends, our family. I've talked with some of the new ones (though too many new ones are not friendly, sadly) and they always say it's the friendliest neighborhood they've ever lived in. I don't understand the ones who pretend not to hear "good morning" or "how-do" in passing. I talked about that with one neighbor friend up the street. She told me about a man, new here, pushing his baby in a stroller past her house as she weeded out front. She said hello. Nothing. So she said, "cute baby," and told me she couldn't really see the baby but was trying to be neighborly. He barked at her, "Of course she is, why wouldn't she be?" My neighbor, I love her, said, "Well, with a father like you it could be expected!" He laughed but I think she and I laughed harder after she told me the story. I love my neighbors, particularly the ones who went through the time with us after Katrina here, the ones still here, still alive. I carry them deep in my heart whether on this planet or gone; I know I'm carried as deeply.
I loved this, and envy you. No one speaks in my neighborhood. I hardly know their names. The closest neighbor relation I ve had since here was with the severely demented elderly woman who bonded with me shortly before she died. And I’ll always remember her dearly.
Dear Kim, I look forward to every essay you write and this one knocked me over again. It is all so true and real and relatable. Beautifully written, of course, but also beautifully, deeply felt.
And reading those text messages made me cry! What a wonderful neighbor Jack was. I am lucky to have had quite a few Jacks in my life, as well. I wear the fabulous costume jewelry of Betty, our childhood neighbor. She died 35+ years ago and I'm still talking about her and reliving the days when we were neighbors and our lives were intermingled. There are people in our building here in NYC that I've been talking to for years and years. We don't always remember each other's names, but I know that if I needed them, they'd be there. xoxo
I love this. We live in the outlying suburbs. I love my neighbors, and I love that you distinguish between the kind of relationships you have with “chosen” friends vs. neighbor friends. This morning I had a 20-minute talk with my neighbor Charlie on the curb when I went to drag the garbage can in wearing the shorts and T-shirt I slept in, bedhead still intact. He’s a little older than us but every bit as active. We miss his wife, who passed away last fall. Charlie knows things about us most of our other friends don’t – you’re right, there’s something about proximity and the more frequent interaction and witnessing the stuff that goes on in the creases of life. ...We’re heading to the store, can we pick up anything for you? Say, could you come hold this wobbly ladder for me? Going out of town? Yes, we’ll feed the cats. We’re having our kids and grandkids over, please join?... Rapidly, a unique intimacy develops with neighbors. We share thoughts and feelings in the moments created by that physical proximity—he’s heard us singing as we clean; he’s heard me crying on my back porch. We share a drink here and there; a swim in their pool, a joint effort in setting up a garage sale. And it is almost guaranteed we would not have met but for randomly becoming neighbors. We have different interests, come from different regions, different work worlds, different social circles. On the night she died, he came our door. He cried on our shoulders and sat in our living room, still in shock. I had promised her on her death bed we’d keep an eye on him, but it was a given. I love him. Like a neighbor.
Kim, you hit it out of the park AGAIN. Such a lovely tribute to the value of good neighbours. I have been blessed to live in the same kind of space where we all look out for each other. Will share this link in my neighbourhood chat in the hopes they appreciate your words as much as I do.
What a lovely testament to the importance of neighbors and all that those relationships ibring to your daily life. And how fortunate your family and Jack's were to have each other over the years. RIP Jack and may you all continue to celebrate him in the coming days.
Thank you for you beautiful words of your friend. I was just talking with my son about our neighborhood friend and elder who died some years back. He could see it in the cards that he was planning to give him his prized red corvette to just to piss me off when he turned 16. Never made it that far but it sparked the memory of the funny, surly dude who we would have great driveway chats with as we pushed his van out of the snow or talked about all the projects we should really do to our house.
Beautiful. Thanks for sharing.
What a sweet, endearing piece. I live in a similar neighborhood in Tucson. I identify completely, but its my social husband who names each child and adult as we walk past for our daily walks, not just to help his memory, but to bless them all. No ICE
Oh my. 😭😭😭 I have had many of the same neighbors for the 13 years I’ve lived where I do. It’s such a strange thing to know so few of the “facts” of people’s lives, and yet witness them so intimately in a way that many people they know “more closely” don’t. This is a such a beautifully written piece.
I hope T saw this. I'm sure she'd appreciate it, understand your description of neighborly relationships. They are friends, some closer than others. I - we - are fortunate here. Our neighbors are our friends, our family. I've talked with some of the new ones (though too many new ones are not friendly, sadly) and they always say it's the friendliest neighborhood they've ever lived in. I don't understand the ones who pretend not to hear "good morning" or "how-do" in passing. I talked about that with one neighbor friend up the street. She told me about a man, new here, pushing his baby in a stroller past her house as she weeded out front. She said hello. Nothing. So she said, "cute baby," and told me she couldn't really see the baby but was trying to be neighborly. He barked at her, "Of course she is, why wouldn't she be?" My neighbor, I love her, said, "Well, with a father like you it could be expected!" He laughed but I think she and I laughed harder after she told me the story. I love my neighbors, particularly the ones who went through the time with us after Katrina here, the ones still here, still alive. I carry them deep in my heart whether on this planet or gone; I know I'm carried as deeply.
I loved this, and envy you. No one speaks in my neighborhood. I hardly know their names. The closest neighbor relation I ve had since here was with the severely demented elderly woman who bonded with me shortly before she died. And I’ll always remember her dearly.
What a lovely recollection of a great man. I really enjoyed it!
I love how you describe proximity and its importance to our relationships. I’m sorry for your loss.
What a good writer you are! Inspirational and so worth reading and sharing. I want everyone to read what you write!
Beautifully written, I feel so teary to be honest. You capture the secret, the subtle, the unspoken with gorgeous sensitivity.
Dear Kim, I look forward to every essay you write and this one knocked me over again. It is all so true and real and relatable. Beautifully written, of course, but also beautifully, deeply felt.
And reading those text messages made me cry! What a wonderful neighbor Jack was. I am lucky to have had quite a few Jacks in my life, as well. I wear the fabulous costume jewelry of Betty, our childhood neighbor. She died 35+ years ago and I'm still talking about her and reliving the days when we were neighbors and our lives were intermingled. There are people in our building here in NYC that I've been talking to for years and years. We don't always remember each other's names, but I know that if I needed them, they'd be there. xoxo
I love this. We live in the outlying suburbs. I love my neighbors, and I love that you distinguish between the kind of relationships you have with “chosen” friends vs. neighbor friends. This morning I had a 20-minute talk with my neighbor Charlie on the curb when I went to drag the garbage can in wearing the shorts and T-shirt I slept in, bedhead still intact. He’s a little older than us but every bit as active. We miss his wife, who passed away last fall. Charlie knows things about us most of our other friends don’t – you’re right, there’s something about proximity and the more frequent interaction and witnessing the stuff that goes on in the creases of life. ...We’re heading to the store, can we pick up anything for you? Say, could you come hold this wobbly ladder for me? Going out of town? Yes, we’ll feed the cats. We’re having our kids and grandkids over, please join?... Rapidly, a unique intimacy develops with neighbors. We share thoughts and feelings in the moments created by that physical proximity—he’s heard us singing as we clean; he’s heard me crying on my back porch. We share a drink here and there; a swim in their pool, a joint effort in setting up a garage sale. And it is almost guaranteed we would not have met but for randomly becoming neighbors. We have different interests, come from different regions, different work worlds, different social circles. On the night she died, he came our door. He cried on our shoulders and sat in our living room, still in shock. I had promised her on her death bed we’d keep an eye on him, but it was a given. I love him. Like a neighbor.
Kim, you hit it out of the park AGAIN. Such a lovely tribute to the value of good neighbours. I have been blessed to live in the same kind of space where we all look out for each other. Will share this link in my neighbourhood chat in the hopes they appreciate your words as much as I do.
What a lovely testament to the importance of neighbors and all that those relationships ibring to your daily life. And how fortunate your family and Jack's were to have each other over the years. RIP Jack and may you all continue to celebrate him in the coming days.
Thank you for you beautiful words of your friend. I was just talking with my son about our neighborhood friend and elder who died some years back. He could see it in the cards that he was planning to give him his prized red corvette to just to piss me off when he turned 16. Never made it that far but it sparked the memory of the funny, surly dude who we would have great driveway chats with as we pushed his van out of the snow or talked about all the projects we should really do to our house.
Love this neighbor/neighborhood tribute! So spot on.
What a nice tribute to your dear friend and neighbor, Jack. Beautifully written.