 Editorial
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9-28-02
Living with Yankee neighbors
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When I first to moved to the Springhill, Florida area
from Hillsborough County, FLA, I was impressed with
the seemingly friendly nature of the local residents.
Upon moving into my house I received the usual Welcome
Wagon solicitations, all welcoming me into the neighborhood
and touting their services. Even the Sheriff's Department
invited me to a welcome brunch designed to educate
new area residents about neighborhood watches and
the sheriff's law enforcement program in general.
How nice, I thought. It looks like Springhill was
a good choice after all. Being a Southerner, I grew
up in neighborhoods where all the neighbors were friends
a helped one another out and the kids all hung around
each other's houses. This is the scenario I came to
appreciate and the ideal I was looking for in Springhill.
Upon meeting the neighbors across the street to the
left, I found out that they were from Missouri and very
friendly. The lady that lives next door to us is an
elderly charmer from Chicago and visits frequently.
Yes, it looked like I had chosen a great neighborhood
with great neighbors, and so it went for the first 5
months. Life went on normally, with my wife and me cutting
the grass on the weekends, trimming hedges, etc. You
know how it goes, all the usual stuff one does in the
hot summer. You end up scanning the neighborhood and
seeing all the other homeowners doing the same types
of things.
Then one day it happens. You hear the doorbell ring
and your peaceful Springhill neighborhood is suddenly
transformed. You answer the door and find an irate neighbor
mumbling and ranting in her Yankee accent about polka
dotted dogs defecating in her yard and how the police
will be called if it's not taken care of immediately.
After asking some questions and getting nearly incoherent
answers, I was able to determine that my dogs had somehow
escaped earlier in the day from the garage. My daughter
was doing something out there to her car and had not
secured the door all the way. Now, mind you, we have
a Dalmatian and an old (very old) toothless balding
Pomeranian. Well, it seems the little Pomeranian did
leave his very small doggie calling card in a far corner
of their yard that is actually an easement to the county
and the utility services. I assured them that it would
be taken care of, as this was the first I had heard
about it. It seems that my daughter told the woman earlier
that she would take care of it also but, was kind of
leery about going down to the woman's yard unescorted
because of the woman's erratic behavior and her apparent
aggravation over the dogs. As it ended up, just cleaning
up after the dog wasn't enough for these people. They
felt like they had the right to give me a lecture about
how people shouldn't be irresponsible and let the dogs
run rampant over the neighborhood, terrorizing the residents
and defecating at will on people's property etc., etc.,
blah, blah, blah. You know how those lectures go, and
anyone who knows me knows that the one thing in the
world I hate more than a jerk of a neighbor is to be
lectured. Anyway, I kept my cool and scooped the poop,
bid them to have a nice life (preferably away from me)
and tried to forget the incident.
Another week goes by and I try to settle back into
the happy neighborhood thing and requested that the
St. Pete times get me one of those nifty little newspaper
tubes for my yard to protect my paper from the elements
until we retrieve it. You know what I am talking about…the
green tubes that say St. Petersburg Times on them. This
has always been a weird thing that I've desired to have
in my yard as opposed to having my paper just thrown
in the yard here and there every morning. As it turned
out, the thing was eventually put in, not in my yard
but in the infamous easement strip of the yard across
the street. The carrier said it had to be that way because
it would cause him to have to change his route if it
was on the other side of the road, and that just wasn't
going to happen. My first question to my wife, who was
home on Saturday when he put it in was "Did
he ask the neighbors if it was okay?" To which
she responded "I asked the same question and
he said no, because it was an easement and no different
than if we had to put a mailbox across the street".
Still skeptical, I agreed to have a look at it later
and see how it goes.
I guess you know what is coming next. I looked up from
putting new plugs in my car this morning and see my
neighbor from across the street whom I've never had
the chance to speak to, coming across the street with
the paper tube (pole and all) in hand saying he wasn't
going to have this in his yard because his wife didn't
like it and it was a eyesore. Mind you, I never heard
this guy speak before and (you guessed it) he has a
heavy Yankee accent. At this point you may be thinking
that I am prejudiced against people from up in the northeast
corner of the US. I'm not. You see, my wife was originally
from Rochester, NY and my ex was from Buffalo. And my
Italian in-laws are some of the sweetest people I've
ever met. What's up with the people from the Northeast
down here? Why are they so uptight? Why do they feel
they have to solve problems with an antagonistic confrontation?
After the attacks on Sept. 11th of last year, New Yorkers
and others from that area want everyone to act as if
we are all one big national community. Well, I say that
they must remember that that is a two way street.
In the meantime, the neighborhood will never look quite
the same to me.
- JA
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