I haven’t really had good neighbors since we left “La Vecindad”.
This is the place where I grew up. The apartment building with nine units, nine families and everybody knew everybody. It was a community. Except for the people in apartment #1. That was sort of the transition apartment, where people usually lived about a year and then moved on to different places.
We had parties and everyone came out and celebrated. Some brought pozole, some rice and beans, and others blasted the cumbia music with their Sanyo Speakers. Everyone brought out their vinyl kitchen chairs and we enjoyed the festivities until the late night.
Nowadays, I can’t even ask people for salt.
In the past seven years I’ve moved four times, and nothing has been like La Vecindad family. Everyone keeps to themselves. Some people say hi to you one day and then completely ignore you the next. Others just give you the nod and then there are some who are just stuck up.
So with my previous experiences, this current little visit from my parents’ neighbor surprised me. As you may know I am temporarily staying at my parents house and they have a couple of neighbors that fit every mold.
They have the dog-walking people who like you because you also have dog, and often strike up conversation about how well your dog looks for her age.
Then you have the older ladies, that often look out their window like they’re the captains of the Neighborhood Watch. They wake up at five o’clock in the morning and sweep their empty drive way, or pick up the one leaf that fell on the floor.
They also have the weed-smoking people who blame the smell on the rocker chick with the two cats, but it’s probably the seventy-year old couple with glaucoma.
They are all pretty neighborly, I guess.
But this neighbor … this one can borrow salt any time.
I heard a knock at the door and didn’t really know who it was, I mean the UPS chick had already stopped by, and the Sparkletts dude didn’t come by until tomorrow. I just saw some lady with blond hair through the peep-hole.
I opened the door. It was Tarzan‘s wife. Yeah Tarzan. My parents happen to be neighbors with some dude that used to play Tarzan in some of those old movies back in the 60s. He was pretty well-known, I guess. I never knew my parents knew Tarzan.
Anyhow, his wife happen to stop by because she wanted to ask me a question.
Do you like chocolate?
Do I like chocolate! She hasn’t known me that long.
As I smiled and said of course, she showed me the large Ziploc bag that she had at her side. It was filled with bite-sized brownies – The Petite Brownie Bites from Costco.
Have you ever had these? They are awesome. They are from something called Sugar Bowl Bakery and if you like chocolate you know what I’m talking about.
She bought a Costco-sized box and said that if she didn’t give any away she might eat the whole tub herself.
What’s wrong with that, right?
I mean I’ve done it before. Just walk it off the next day.
But apparently she did not think having the entire tub of brownies in her house was a good idea, so she was wondering if I wanted the dozen that she had in the bag. She tried to encourage me by suggesting that I could give some to my son.
I didn’t need any encouragement.
I ate the whole bag while watching Person of Interest. It’s an hour-long drama. I was done half-way through the show. I couldn’t help myself.
Tarzan’s wife rocks. She’d be fine in La Vecindad.