I thought it was only right to put my best foot forward. I had the backhoe and they had a very well established bush that they were having the most trouble ejecting from the front boundary of our two properties. So like the good neighbor, I volunteered my services and equipment. Several hours later the culprit was removed and a good deed was done. Maybe this is petty, but I would also like to mention that we did lend the neighbors the temporary fencing and fence posts to fill in the hole created by the removal of fencing, the monstorous shrub and sundry stumps that were removed. In the course of the endeavor, the families friend and relative who I shall hereto refer to as the boys, suggested they would help me clean up behind a fence that was adjacent to their peoples pool in kind for my help that day. I will hence use the monikers, Pinkylee and Floyd, to reference the peoples who bought the next door house. I knew I should of gotten a written contract of the clean up agreement as of one years time later there has still has been no acknowledgment of this deal. But I digress.
I admitt that the behind the fence thing is a mess. The last neighbors didn't seem to care. We were always on good terms. More than cordial. I mean as in liked eachother. Helped each other out. You could count on a; "Howdy neighbor" over the pasture fence. To me, that's kind of what you hope for in a neighbor. They live their life and you live yours. Not in each others face, but there when you need them and vice a versa. So as no one came forth to help me behind the fence, as I shall ongoingly refer to as "mess", I left it there undisturbed. Many years of dead wood and undergrowth, two live trees not attended to and one tall dead poplar with that nasty ubiquitous virginia creeper growing up its trunk. Virginia creeper, the kudzo of the west, and a weed that knows no shame.
Everyone teaches you a lesson. Especially the despised. If you can't like the person, atleast appreciate the lesson. Dominating the impossible in your life is the over arching mission. Pinkylee has a lesson. And that lesson has spilled over onto my life-style and focused on my "mess". Pinkylee is obsessed with gentrification. By dictionary definition, Gentrification is the process of renovating and improving a house so that it conforms to middle-class taste. And it is something to behold. Like a goldbug with the Midas touch. Everything is turned to, "look I'm middle class". It didn't seem to matter that I was living here 24 years prior to her arrival. My mess was now her obsession. It was an eyesore. We get it, we knew! So I left the mess there. I never did get a thankyou for ripping out that earth-clinging gargantuan bush that defied the boys best efforts. I was willing to let that go. I was even willing to let it go that my mess was still my helpless mess. But another man or woman maybe can't let it go.
Yes all the neighbors love Pinkylee and Floyd, but not for the reasons you think. Don't get me wrong, this is a nice quiet neighborhood. We have a nice middle-class modest sized house on a large lot. Nothing pretentious. It's comfortable. Affordable. And this is where neighborly love turns to greed. For something is worth what someone is willing to give. And if the someones overpay a good deal for the house next door, say $30 or $40,000, well it brings the block of homeowners a bewildered indebtedness. And so be it. Thankyou Pinkylee and Floyd.
Well you see, a new fence, a fine fence was constucted along the mine and their property line. With tappered woodened cedar slats out to the street. And have I mentioned the fact that the "mess" is now incarcerated between two snug walls of fencing. No longer and eyesore that rumbles the aesthetics of the poolside view to the house next door. So, as the fine fence was constructed by the boys and Floyd a slender corridor was formed between existing fencing that runs along the side yard out to the street. My modest fence, although time true and tested was not replete with length. This left an opening, a crevice, an abandoned alleyway. In this non-gentrified space, about 30 feet into the crawlway was left a large severered stump. I am sure I heard a getting even kind of guffaw coming from there. "Oh, he likes dead wood." "Let's see him get that chunky monkey out of there." "Never underestimate a man and his tractor", that's what I say. And to this day I am willing to bet on the farmer and his ingenuity. And as how that's how I see myself I was equipped for the challenge. And after a trip to the helpful hardware store and the installation of a heavy duty hook, the stump was now handled and ready for the old yankovich with toe chain to the front loader routine. It is these times when my childhood in Brooklyn served me no purpose into my adult life and I love not looking back. Most of the drag went well with the last few feet needing the human touch. As the stump emerged from the crowded space I sensed a relief for things restored to normalcy. Like the feeling after Lassy got Timmy's dad to pull the cats from the bottom of the well. It was a heavy sucker. I placed it in the front loader. Attached a sign to it that read,"free wood", and parked it out front near the boundry between the two fences.
