Neighbors Feedback Requested

I received an e-mail from somebody (who shall remain nameless) who felt uneasy reading my Neighbor posts. As I tried to state in N,P1 but maybe didn't express cleary, is that I am just trying to give snapshots of this little slice of my world (to the rest of you, who don't live in it) as I see it through my lens, which I try to keep as objective as I can. Not all things you look at in life are pretty... Does that mean one shouldn't take photographs?



So I have a few questions for you, dear reader:
Do you like or dislike the Neighbors series?
Does this qualify as gossip? (And does gossip have to be negative to qualify as such?)
Would you react differently if the writings were fictional?
Do you have any other thoughts or comments?


I do want to hear back from you. (Just click beneath the title where it says comments.) Leave your comment anonymously if that makes you more comfortable... and thanks. You will make me a better person for it.

The Neighbors, Part 2: Ronnie & Girlfriend?

Ronnie is Olene's son. Ronnie called on the 4th to tell us that Olene had passed away the day before... the same day I posted Neighbors Part 1. Chris felt bad and wanted me to edit my post. I didn't. Ronnie said that they made the decision to remove Olene from oxygen. He asked Olene if she was ready to see Jesus and Kenny, and she nodded her head. Kenny was Olene's other son that died earlier in the year of lung cancer.



Ronnie is the product of dysfunction. I suppose we all are to some extent. But Ronnie is the product of obvious dysfunction. Olene was one of those sweet, mama enablers that let her children walk all over her and rewarded them for doing so. We have other neighbors that are similar. I might get to that in a later post.



Anyway, Ronnie has what we think is a girlfriend. She weighs quite a bit more than Ronnie and is, ironically, named Misty. They met at work at a time when Ronnie had a cocaine habit. She befriended him and stuck with him through his rehab. Misty lived with Olene and Ronnie the first year or so we lived in the neighborhood.



Olene, who was going through chemo at the time, complained to Chris that they didn't help much around the house. Chris ended up mowing most of the yard, because Ronnie could never seem to mow more than the front patch of grass. Finally, Ronnie and Misty decided to move out... to Misty's dad's trailer. Olene became even more miffed. Ronnie ended up calling Chris about a grill left at Olene's, and Chris used the opportunity to give Ronnie a verbal spanking. Ronnie cried on the phone.



Eventually, Ronnie moved back in, and Misty moved to government assisted housing. Ronnie picks her up for weekend visits.



Ronnie is in his late thirties or forties, I would guess. (Can you tell by his photo?) We have never known him to be able to hold down a job longer than a few months, and in fact, he hasn't worked at all in the past year or so. Since getting power-of-attorney rights to Olene's bank account, has blown lots of money on booze and fireworks. Another example of Olene's enabling (aside from the obvious grown-man-living-at-home-for-free): she refinanced the previously paid-for house to cover any debts, including a year-old minivan that she gave to Ronnie. Ronnie was never taught how to handle money or life, and since Olene has died, he now thinks that the best decision is to allow the bank to foreclose on the house... Oh dear. What will become of Ronnie?

I had a weekend away with no children and nothing on my agenda. In spite of Joe crying half the morning (Mom, I know you hid my pacifier - where is it - I need it), I have a renewed sense of calm, and feel like I can do this mom thing for a while again without freaking out. At least until Friday.

I do like my kids. They are pretty cool so far. I'm a little worried about Joe, though. When Finley was his age I was able to focus when I needed to discipline and guide her. It's not so easy with Joe. I'm far more distracted so that he gets things his way a bit more than I'd like.

Coming back after a few days away let me see my children with fresh eyes. Finley is so much more of a growing little girl than I give her credit for. Her thought processes are maturing, and I need to be careful not to treat her like a toddler that just needs ordering around. Joe is really starting to figure things out. Even though he can't say three words so that a non-mom could understand him, he can communicate what he wants. This morning, he opened up the cupboard, put his hand on the toaster oven, and started whining. (Mom, I need a bagel.)

The Neighbors, Part 1: Olene

Since I am fairly confident that most of my neighbors don't read my blog, or know what blogs are, I have decided it would be fun to share them with you. Let me know what you think of the series...


My goal is to be as objective as possible, but I'm afraid that I'm not so good at objectivity, as most of my life has been dedicated to forming opinions about one thing or another. Our former pastor was once informed by his son that 'God doesn't care about your opinions.' I've chewed on that for a while, and am trying harder to find what I think is the truth rather than what my opinion is. It's a fine line, and I can't always tell which is which. And when it comes to people... an opinion equals a judgement. That said, let me introduce to you Olene.


Olene is old, I think. I don't know how old, but she has/had two sons in their early forties. That doesn't really tell you much. She might look older than she is because she has battled cancer for years.


Not long after we moved into our house, Olene was admitted to the hospital after a resurgence of her cancer. Chris and I went to visit her. I have to admit that beforehand, I had visions of going to minister to a kindly woman who was suffering and we would strike up a beautiful relationship. Silly me.


While we visited, Olene talked about how Jesus was her stay in life. How he had helped her out of an abusive relationship with her first husband. How the hope and strength she derived through her sickness was all from Jesus. I could feel a warm glow.


Then she talked about our neighborhood. She talked about how she wasn't racist, but didn't trust those black folk. She talked some more, but I don't know about what. We finally were able to cut in to tell her we needed to leave. We prayed for her and left, the warm glow long gone.


Olene was released from the hospital not long after that, and for the next couple years, I have to admit, I tried to avoid her. I haven't much patience for people that talk only about themselves and never ask you any questions. And Olene could talk until you wished a Mack truck would come out of nowhere and run you over to put you out of your misery. It wasn't really hard to avoid her, though, because I don't think she ever remembered my name. She did, however, remember Chris' name and frequently called to have Chris come help with this or that, ignoring the fact that she had two capable, if lazy, sons. I learned to make sure that Chris took his cell phone so that I could call to give him an excuse to come back home.


Chris says Olene likes to complain about the neighbor in between us, Clay. Clay works a graveyard shift, cleaning at a hospital. He comes home in the morning, and only comes out to mow the yard and get the mail. He says 'hi' to us and is quiet and courteous. Apparently, he draws Olene's criticism because he doesn't own a weed-eater. But my guess is it's because he's black.


Olene is back in the hospital now, and her remaining son is just waiting for her to die. We are wondering what kind of neighbors we'll get when she's gone.

Green Grass

Chris is proud of his stripes. After mowing the lawn yesterday, he went outside to take pics of the yard.

We get lots of comments on our yard. Mostly, folks wonder how we get such a lush, weed free lawn. I'm going to tell you our secret. We learned these secrets from Mike McGrath, who has an organic gardening program on NPR called 'You Bet Your Garden.'

The first thing is... there are weeds... You just don't notice them.

Secondly, we don't use chemicals, but we do aerate and over seed once a year (though not with that crazy Bermuda grass).

But most importantly... All of you out there who hate to mow tend to cut the grass as short as possible so that you don't have to mow as frequently? Well, that works, but the trade-off is stressed-out grass and happy weeds. Set the mower to cut the grass 2.5 - 3 inches high (instead of just above dirt level), and you will leave the grass its food source. It will then be able to establish a healthier root system, which in turn creates healthier grass, all of which helps to choke those weeds out.