Neighbors

Does everyone have weird neighbors, or is it just me? Or is it just that when you live close to someone for years, you see things about them that you weren’t supposed to. We have certainly had our fair collection of strange characters living in close proximity to us. There is Bruce that constantly invites our family over his house to look at his solar panels, and his wife who refuses to leave their dog unattended out of fear of petnappers. There was the Hollos who enjoy picking through everyones garbage, only to put it into junk piles in their overgrown yard. But the weird neighbors that have had the most influence on my life are the Colberts.

    A seemingly sweet and normal family, the Colberts inhabited the humble home directly to our left when facing the road. There was the dad (who later disappeared after a divorce), the mom, the grandma, and three children. One boy was the same age as me, one was 2 years younger, and there was a girl that was 5 years younger. What bothered me the most about these three kids was the body fluids. I do not handle the sight or smell of them at all. The Colbert kids always smelled vaguely of stagnant urine... correction; they smelled profusely like urine. They also always wore white undershirts that allowed their pot bellies to peek out of the bottom, and it also allowed everyone to see everything that they had eaten that day, because a good portion of it was smeared across their white t-shirts. If you stretched their shirts over a canvas over any given day, you could sell it as an abstract painting.

    Another irritating aspect of the Colberts was that they were an island of drooly, antisocial, lumps, in a sea of extraordinary close neighbors. Directly to their right was the Boises, and behind them was the Brills. The Boises, the Brills, and the Roesers were all best friends.We did everything together; barbecues, s'mores, picnics. We tried to include the Colberts when we could, we invited them to almost everything, but they seldom attended. The worst part about them alienating themselves was that it meant their glorious, huge trampoline was off limits. The Brills had the flat driveway where every neighborhood kid learned to ride a bike, the Boises had a swing set and an outdoor fireplace, and we had a flat yard great for games, and a rope swing. All neighbors shared their precious commodities with one another, except for the Colberts. We often snuck onto their trampoline when we assumed that they weren't home, and we didn't think they noticed. About a year after the trampoline’s arrival, we, the Boises, and the Brills all received a call from the mother, Jung, stating "Your children are no longer permitted on our trampoline, we bought this for our children. If your kids would like to jump, you can call me to schedule a time when you will supervise them." So the Colberts didn't like us either.

    Okay, so the Colberts were grody and antisocial, but is that an okay reason not to like someone? Well if you ask me, I say body fluids are enough to make me want to keep my distance, but surely not to hate them. The first incident where I truly hated them, started on a fine summer day. The sun was shining upon our beautiful green grass. As a very devoted little pet owner I thought that every animal, big or small, deserved to see the world on days like this. So I put my beloved hamster into her clear hamster ball, and I brought her outside to roll around warm yard. I watched for a few minutes, then I returned to the house. About fifteen minutes later, my brothers friend glanced out the window and asked, "Who are those kids playing soccer in your lawn?" I looked out of the window, "Oh, those are just the neighbors." Until I realized what their soccer ball was, and horror overcame me. Everything was in slow motion as the 8 year old Winston, who was the same age as me, swung his meaty leg heavily. His sneaker panged against the plastic hamster ball, sending it flying through the air, before skipping over the grass, and coming to a halt. I could see the dark shape of Hammie's body swirling and churning in the flying ball as she clinged on for her life. Perhaps the most disturbing part was that their grandmother was standing over them, with a innocent smile on her face, as if she was watching them skipping around picking flowers. I sprinted out of the house, and with the most assertive voice I could muster as an 8 year old, I screamed, "Get away from the hamster, get the hell off of our lawn!" They ran their chubby bodies down their hill back onto their lawn, with smiles on their faces. The grandmother, looking ashamed obliged as well. I scooped up Hammie and stormed back inside. Don't worry, Hammie was fine, (until her next adventure when she escaped and got trapped in our air ducts).

    The hamster was only the tip of the iceberg when it came to their frightening antics. Each time the children picked up a branch, my parents would grab my arm and pull me a safe distance away. One day (somehow) they got their sausage fingers on a pair of large tree clippers. One thing lead to another, and in the end little Aaron Brill was being carried back to his house by his brother, after being struck in the head by the blunt end of it. Another day, I looked out our window to see the Colberts kids dragging my 4 month old puppy around by vines that they had tied around his waist. My mom got a glimpse of this as well, and needless to say, they never returned near my dog.

    Does everybody have those weird neighbors? Are weird neighbors a necessary component to 

everybody's life? Probably not. But the Colberts taught me a few things. I now have keen self 

preservation instincts, and an instinctual response to move out of the way whenever people are 

flailing sticks.