Neighborly

My mom called me Sunday night.

At half past eleven, which is rare. And usually limited to emergencies.

Her neighbors at the far rear of her property were apparently hosting the mother of all mariachi parties. Even over the phone, I could clearly hear the music blaring and sense the vibrations of her windows from the sheer volume of the sound, which was peppered by and something that sounded like car backfires (ah, that would be their homeade fireworks show going off on the patio and echoing throughout the neighborhood - nice touch).

Now, my Mom lives in an area of her city of roughly 800,000 people which maintains a rural setting. Where million dollar homes that resemble Marriott Hotels meet avocado ranches and horse boarding facilities. Within two miles of her house lie vast acres of fertile farmland, miles and miled of shops and restaurants anchored by a titanic shopping mall, the largest water slide and recreation park in the state, polo grounds, man-made lakes surrounded by gated communities, and typical American suburbia.

Mom's immediate neighborhood community consists of mini-ranches with lots of at least 2.5 acres, all of whom seem to include a bevy of horses and other typical farm menagerie.

So, to be able to actually hear the clangy mariachi music blaring at midnight over the phone from at least 5 acres away gives you a clear concept of the exact degree of the noise pollution being created by these now-collectively-despised-by-anyone-living-within-5-miles neighbors.

Mom walked over in her nighttime sweatclothes to speak with the people at the source of the deafening music and asked them to turn it down NOW. They pretended they did not speak English and feigned inability to understand her. Twenty minutes later, they were miraculously able to hear and understand the sheriff just fine. Amazing how that happens. The music and firecrackers stopped abruptly at half past midnight.

Ridiculous how little regard we can have for others sometimes.

I was reminded of this again yesterday as I shopped for groceries with Joyboy. While loading the groceries into my car, I was hindered in my pace because I was also carrying my 30+ pound crying toddler son, who had pinched his finger on the ever-reliable-for-that-sort-of-thing shopping cart. I was apparently unable to accomplish my grocery loading task in a timely enough fashion to suit the man who had parked in the space next to me. He suddenly physically pushed past me, Joyboy, and our still-food-laden cart, the force of his body shoving me off balance so that I had to steady myself from falling by grabbing onto the roof rack of my car while simultaneously trying to unsuccessfully prevent the cart from rolling into my open car door. Unfazed, this obliviously self-important guy used his remote to unlock the front door of his HUMMER, opened it, tossed his lone plastic shopping bag onto his brushed leather seat, summarily backed out of the space, and casually drove off without a backward glance.

I now have a small dent in my car door and a bruised sense of the formerly assumed level of daily care we extend to one another as fellow human beings sharing the same earth.

Sigh... Sometimes Anne Frank's words come to mind when I encounter such situations, "If only there were no other people living in the world."

Then again, sometimes it comes down to attitude of the recipient of such rude, indifferent behavior. The proverbial lemon and lemonade scenario, if you will. My feelings get hurt far too often by people who just don't give a rats' behind about the ramifications of their actions on others. I just can't fathom the ability to routinuely be so self-engrossed as to be so rude, pushy, mean, evil or just plain lame. Sometimes, there is little else to be done but buckle up for the ride and enjoy the killer pitcher of lemonade from the whopper lemons you're getting pelted with by your neighbors.

Case in point, this guy, who found an innovative way to turn his bemused frustration with his ~ let's just say, COLORFUL ~ next door neighbor into a source of humor for the masses. By creating this website to document the antics of this fellow (whom I'm not quite convinced is operating on all eight cylinders) he hopefully laughed as much as I still do when I re-read his site (kudos to potty mouth for sending me the link 4 years ago) and remind myself to bake an appreciation pie for my own quite sane-by-comparison neighbors.