Neighborhood Watching

We had our first neighborhood watch meeting last night. Vanessa is great at organizing. She's the chief reason why we've been able to raise more than $35 million through the Jimmy Scott Foundation over the last 20 years. If she had been Secretary of Defense at the time we invaded Iraq, you can bet things would be in a lot better shape than they are now. She'd have been like Shane, remember him, from the movie? He put a stop to the bullying, helped the commonfolk, and rode into a beautiful western sunset.

But I digress.

We've lived in our current residence for the last 11 years, but we don't know our neighbors really well. Let me re-phrase: I don't know them very well. Julia and Grace are friendly with whatever kids live around here and Vanessa pretty much knows everyone too. I don't. I recognized faces tonight. Had no idea what their names were. Maybe I don't pay attention when introduced. It must be that. If you put all my neighbors in a police lineup after meeting with them all for 90 minutes last night, I'd get all their names wrong.

All but one. Connie.

Connie just moved in. She's not a shy woman. And she wants to be friends with Vanessa. Close friends. Not the lesbian kind. Get that out of your mind. I mean the best buddy/we'll be friends forever! kind.

I don't blame her. Vanessa has this thing about her. She's like a beacon in the summer. If you're a bug, you'd choose Vanessa's beacon over someone else's front porch light.

Connie moved in about three weeks ago. Got a good deal on her house, she said, because the market stinks right now. She might have even gotten the house through a foreclosure. But she's been around quite a bit. If she wasn't trying to be Vanessa's friend, I'd consider the woman a stalker. She calls first thing in the morning. She brings by homemade pies by lunch and comes back to pick up the pie dish right during dinner. She's asked Julia to babysit five times already, even though her son is 13. (Grace won't babysit for anyone. She's afraid of the liability.) Connie has tried to become a member of the family over the last 21 days. I met her for the first time last night.

I'm good at not being here when friends or neighbors stop in. By coincidence, I'm usually out at an event or rehabbing (or eating up to two weeks ago) or in my Entertainment Veranda figuring out how to Tivo a show that I already Tivo'd, just to make sure I never lose it and have it forever(!).

But I had to be here last night. My right wrist is wrapped up pretty tightly from my fall on the driveway, caused by the vandals who keep dropping by our house at night. Vanessa says that if I'd been better all along at being here when people drop by, maybe I would have caught the vandals myself and saved myself some pain. She's a funny gal, that wife of mine.

A Madison policeman was here to explain how to legally put a neighborhood watch program together. He told us all about the vandalism in the area, which has pretty much taken place 100% on my property. He told us to basically keep our eyes open, our outside lights on, our doors locked, our security systems engaged, and our pit bulls underfed. It makes them meaner, he said. (Just kidding about that last part. Although you know the old saying, a mean dog is a hungry dog.)

Connie volunteered to take the night shift watching our house. The very patient cop said that's not how it works. We are to go about our daily, and nocturnal, business like we always do. But if we see anything out of the ordinary, give them a call. I thought I heard Connie whisper something about taking matters into her own hands, but Vanessa said I was making that part up because I don't like her.

It's not that I don't like her. She's very sweet. I just think she's nuts. Where was her husband, the doctor? Apparently in surgery. But I don't believe it. I think he was out just to get away from her. I've seen it so many times. Type A personality wife marries Type A personality husband. Before you know it, Type A personality husband morphs into a Type D kind of guy. He grows long hair, becomes a vegetarian, and takes off with another woman and puts her kids to bed every night, ignoring his own.

Now you might think of me as Type A. I've been a driven athlete, vocal person, sometimes a little hyper. I wear my emotions on my sleeve. And my pant legs too. Nobody ever looks there. But I'm not Type A. I'm a reactor. I love baseball, so I played it so much I became really good at it. My body reacted to my love of the game. My life has been a reaction to being good at it. But if I'd never played baseball, I'd probably be working the stockroom of a Best Buy, out of the way of people and keeping to myself. See, that's why I'm never here when the neighbors are. I like to keep to myself. Grace is like me, although everyone thinks it's Julia who is. But Julia's a Type A like her mother. Grace and I - we're Type B+. We are who we are because of what's around us.

The meeting ended and Connie stayed to help clean up. She suggested we put the plastic ware into the dishwasher to use again. I told her the reason the spork was invented was to throw out half the plastic a person normally would, so, in effect, by supporting the spork we're supporting our environment. We're practically green without trying.

Oh, she laughed. My quip wasn't as humorous as she made it sound. That was a tip off to me. She's nuts and wants to adopt my family. I'm going to keep my eyes on her.

She left around eleven (two hours after the meeting ended) and took four pie plates with her. I surveyed her as she slowly crept down our driveway, her head darting back and forth, as if she was either in danger or was trying to catch the vandals before they struck again. But she saw nothing strange and was eventually on the street and gone.

We had a good night. No bad people came and threw cold water or toilet paper on our land. Shane didn't drift by to save us and kill the lead bad man, dressed in black. And Vanessa didn't secretly fall for Shane while staying with me. No, Connie is our Shane. And she's only armed with pie, not a gun. While she may try to steal my Vanessa from me, she'll never catch the bad guys who've vandalised my property. I have a feeling the bad guys and me will bump into each other one day and surprise the hell out of each other. That will be one interesting final scene before one of us rides off into the sunset, watched by the eyes of our neighborhood friends.