Do you know your neighbors? I don’t.
Oh, I do know the lady to the south, and like her. To the north? An extended family lives there… several generations, whose language I cannot identify, yet alone understand. They have a nice dog, though. Across the street? One of a half-dozen folks I know.
A woman around the corner was murdered, a few weeks ago, in an automobile accident a block away. I didn’t hear the ambulances, didn’t know her, only heard that she had two grade-school-age from another neighbor. (Yes, murdered. The vehicle which killed her ran a red light. Not because it changed too quickly; because the operator of said vehicle figured s/he was too %^&& important to BOTHER stopping. Or maybe s/he was chatting on the phone rather than driving.)
I’ve lived here for almost 10 years. My previous home, I lived in for 18 years. In both neighborhoods, I tried to get a neighbor-to-neighbor newsletter going. Did it for a couple of issues, then gave up. When I moved from that neighborhood, I didn’t even tell folks I was leaving, nor receive any visits when the SOLD sign went up. 18 years. Almost 2 decades on the same street with 20-25 neighbors. Didn’t know anyone well enough to sat good-bye to.
What is it, with the popularity of “be my friend” web sites like Myspace.com and Facebook and all that stuff? You can be “friends” with folks you have never met, but god forbid you extend the hand of friendship to someone who might, like, ask you to rid their driveway of free fliers so their house doesn’t get burgled while they’re on vacation?
It’s sad times when, cooking dinner and short 1 tablespoon of cumin, you get in your 5000-pound SUV to go on a 4-mile journey to buy it… because you don’t know your neighbors well enough to knock on their door and ask to borrow it.
Auntie Kate The Resale Expert 
I am fortunate to live in a neighborhood of old Alaskans and I do know most of them. Several came over to introduce themselves in the first few days when we were moving in. Rare in a city of this size.
In my earlier home, 10 years went by and I knew a handful and only because I was involved in our community association. Everyone there drove home, parked in the garage and bunkered in. It was supposed to be a “desirable” neighborhood and the homes were lovely but I didn’t like the cloistered lifestyle.
It’s unfortunate that we are so busy or not trusting enough as a society to get to know folks that live nearby us.
My Sister was just wondering when the ice cream man disappeared. She did not think she would ever need his phone number to ask him to come by…
She plans to blog this and submit an article to the local paper, asking him to come back and put a gas tip jar on his counter.
Too bad you don’t live in my town, I can’t go anywhere without seeing a friend! My errands take forever because I end up chatting and laughing with people at every turn. I forget to appreciate my small town living, thanks for the reminder.
Kate you should move to my mom’s neighborhood. In the summertime she organizes a block party where they block the street and line up the grills for a cookout on the road. In the winter she invites every lady on her block to a cookie exchange where she uses my grandma’s china and serves tea. If you live in her neighborhood…you are her friend, that really is a beautiful thing, isn’t it!
I grew up in a neighborhood that had twice yearly neighborhood cookouts and everybody knew everybody else. After years of living ‘anonymously’ I moved to a small little town where ‘everybody knows your name’. Thanks once again Kate for the commentary – you are so spot on.