About the Neighbors...

The neighbors behind us burn their trash. They also have lots of backyard parties. The latter gets annoying around midnight when their music is still blaring. The former is both bold and criminal, especially in a subdivision with a Nazi-like HOA and with a state-wide no-burn ban in effect. I assume they don’t have waste management services (?). Or maybe they’re just pyromaniacs. I’ve noticed the peculiar aroma of their fires before. They were doing it this afternoon. I heard the crinkling and popping of flames consuming paper and watched as the smoke billowed up, drifting south in the breeze.

I am not reporting them.

Next door, we’ve got an extended family. At least 9 or 10 people. They have a daughter/granddaughter who’s in a wheelchair and requires daily transportation to somewhere. We see the van pull up each morning. They have several dogs that they keep outside in steel kennels. They have a side yard filled with tin cans. They have 8, sometimes 9 cars clogging their driveway and the street. The head of the family, a guy with a caterpillar mustache (think Latin American telenovela), is named Jesus (hay-SOOS).

You gotta respect Jesus.

Next door on the other side is a big guy who wears his pants plumber-style and compulsively works on his dune buggy and the trailer that transports it. He’s also compulsive about his lawn. It is immaculate - a perfect square of dark green Kentucky bluegrass. I bet he thinks we’re slobs because we’ve got yellow spots, a little crabgrass action, and sometimes I don’t bother to break out the weed whacker to take care of the strands along the edges. We very seldom see his wife. I spoke to him once. It was while we were both shoveling snow off the sidewalk. (Me: “How’s it going?” Him (nodding): “Hey, how’s it going?”) No idea what his name is.  

He reminds me of a Hispanic Raymond Burr.

Across the street is a young guy from New Mexico. We think his name is Xavier or Chavez. Every time I talk to him, he tries to give me a beer. He works for an HVAC company, doing repairs. I asked if he would help me replace my water heater. He said sure, but never showed up on the day of installation. His mother lives with them. His wife also works for an HVAC company - but not the same one. They’ve got a couple of kids and a dog. We hardly ever see that dog. He wrecked his new truck and now drives a Honda with crazy-expensive rims.

He recently bought a boat.

Next door to Xavier - or is it Chavez? - is another guy who works for an HVAC company (what is it with HVAC, anyway?) and has a laugh that you can hear all over the neighborhood. I mean, like blocks away. He’s married. Has one kid. Next to him is a family we suspect is from Africa (judging from the colorful dresses and head scarves the women wear). Down the street there’s an Army family, two guys rumored to be convicted felons, and a single, Marine dude who does CrossFit in his driveway. On the corner, we’ve got a super friendly, upbeat guy named Josh. He talks to everyone. (He told us about the felons.) Josh had a brain tumor a couple of years ago and almost died.

He’s glad to be alive.

And then there’s the gray house with that blond guy. He’s either unemployed or works remote - wears shorts, t-shirts, and flip-flops all the time. His wife was in the Army. She’s always out there watering the grass. They’ve got a cool, lifted Jeep and three dogs that they walk religiously. And now, it looks like they’ve got company. They were gone for several days and returned with an elderly woman (Native American/Mexican?) in a wheelchair. Then they spent the following weekend making a lot of noise building a huge plywood ramp in their garage. Maybe she’s going to live with them long-term. Who knows?

Neighbors... (head shake) You gotta love ‘em.