I am a little bummed that the Fred Roger's doc, "Won't You Be My Neighbor?" isn't opening here yet, but I'm inspired to write one of those crazy long-eventually-turns-into-a-blog stories about it, thanks to its inspirational title.
Some of you love these tales of minutia, for those of you who don't, move on..I'm OK. But believe me when I tell you there are more comedic moments that happened in today's events then there will be in the professional comic we're paying to see perform tonight.
"Won't You Be My Neighbor?" is NOT about the woman next door. (And not Tami, everyone who reads my posts regularly knows how much we all love Tami. I'm talking about the wacko Linda, the neighbor on the other side)
It all started(to refresh your memory, and for some of you, this is new) when we put in the in-ground pool in 2005. We had no choice but to build it closer to Linda's side, and she made it pretty clear she was NOT happy at the prospect of frolicking neighbors and pool parties. After a few years, we noticed that we did not spend the summer swimming in the pool--we spent it clearing out leaves and poisonous bleeding berries from her tree. And we nicely asked her about a solution to this problem.
Some of you have actually met Linda, with that brash, shrill, highly mockable voice of hers. (Some have mistaken her for an annoying bird when you've come to visit)
So ten years ago, we call the highly recommended tree service to see what could be done about this problem. The owner, Dennis, was very sweet, and told us the tree would be most unharmed if he could cut the offending limbs at the base, which would give it a nice clean break. This tree offered no fruit or adequate shade, but..like Luke with a stolen sock, she became highly territorial about this possession.
The cutter said in all his years in business, he never met such an uncooperative hostile neighbor. The tree could not be safely cut, we'd have to live with a clogged filter and a pool of twigs.
But Linda was cut out of our lives.
I was one of many neighbors forced to tell her off.
At the time, she was a substitute teacher in Evan's high school, and the students had a field day mimicking her voice and attitude. They even started a Facebook page about her.
She confronted me in the street back in 2008: "Ka-win, (yes, she pronounced it Ka-win) "you aw not going to cut down my twee at the BASE, which she pronounced like it had an "h" in it, and she added "Leave the B-A-S-E--the BASHE". of MY twee....alone.."
So we stopped talking to her..and she got her revenge by placing a ghost-like hand drawing in the upper window facing our pool.
We all had some laughs at her expense. Our bewildered company love the drawing and its history.
Flash forward to 2012, and the aftermath of Super storm Sandy which was powerful enough to make the Hatfields talk to the McCoys. We didn't exactly become friends again..but we were civil. Neighborly. In fact, I only actually called her one time, when I couldn't find my camera and a family of ducks invaded the pool. I asked her to come over for a photo op and regretted it immediately, because I could not tell if I was hearing ducks quacking or Linda's voice.
Her nebbishy poor husband sees Jim a few years later(you'd think we were separated by acres but we're not) and says"anything you need to do to the tree is OK. We are ready to cooperate"
OK..now for the fun stuff after trudging through the long back story...
I actually started taking notes on this story while eating a cold pizza lunch on Evan's paper plate that was meant for his hot pizza lunch. I wanted to take notes while they were still fresh on my mind, and I was too inspired to go look for paper, so I grabbed his paper plate because he was too obsessed with social media to come to the table.
The pizza was cold because Jim had to stop at the bank.
Jim had to stop at the bank because the tree guy came today to start trimming all the limbs that were encroaching on our side. Like roaches spilling onto a kitchen floor when the lights go on, Linda storms out of her house at the first buzz. Jim tells her that he got her permission from her husband to trim the branches. She then reiterates the whole history of the last ten years--her version of course--and yep, she actually mentioned the "B-A-S-E, spelling it out and pronouncing it "Bashe."
The tree guy tells Jim that he's sympathetic that we live next to such an odd lady, but what are you going to do?
So I look outside, the tree is clear, the branches are gone, the pool is looking bluer by the moment, and I'm wondering if I can still fit into last summer's bathing suit because I've been stress eating sunflowers seeds like a crazy woman.
Jim is about to leave to pick up the pizza which by now was already getting cold, when we get a call from the tree guy who had left about ten minutes before.. He tells us that even 'though the five hundred dollar check that Jim had just written was clipped securely to his clipboard, it was gone. Totally gone. I helped Jim search the backyard(I drew the line at searching through Luke droppings--although that would have meant the lost check was on our living room RUG!)) but there is no sign of the check.
Jim leaves for the now ice cold pizza picnic but insists on stopping at the bank first, to go over the procedure for stopping payment.
I'm thinking we 'll have no friends by the time the pool is warm enough to use anyway, what's the big deal?
He's at the bank, where he is informed to not write a new check until Wednesday, just to make sure it's not deposited twice
. He is hangry by this time, and says he'd rather pay a thousand dollars (twice the quoted price) then be bothered with all this grief. I remind him that those five hundred dollar bills can bring us a lot of Woodloch joy, so he agrees to calm down, grab a bite, and fight this.
Meanwhile, Evan answers the phone while I'm in the shower and tells the tree guy to come back and get a new check. Jim finds out that Evan did this and shoots the messenger. He comes home with the cold pizza and a sudden urge to pick his nose, which made ME pick...pick a fight with him.
Evan's upset that the screen door has been left open all this time.. There will be bees. And skeeters. And buzzards.
I'm picturing Jim in an orange jumpsuit, going to jail for non-payment of services, when suddenly there's a knock at the door. It's the tree guy.
He found the original check. It had blown across the street
In front of the home of a neighbor we never met, even 'though we've been living here since 1995.
Won't you be mine? Won't you be mine? Won't you be..my neighbor?
Pool is open. Come for the refreshing water. Come for a burger. Come to hear Linda's voice and tell me if you agree she'd be a good candidate for the next "Exorcist"
