Who Needs TV When You Live in a Sitcom?

We all have them. Young or old, loud or reclusive, tasteful or tasteless...they come in all sorts. You guessed it. I'm talking about neighbors. And while we would all probably argue we deserve the prize, I think I would get at least an honorable mention in any "interesting" neighbor contest. Truth be told, though, I would not have it any other way. I love my neighbors. We get along, and I get all sorts of interesting and amusing stories as a bonus. Who could ask for more?

So let me introduce you...Meet Lou*. Lou is the first person that I got to know on my street, and he is incredibly nice. He mowed my lawn all last summer because he could tell I was having a hard time getting to it with all of stresses of moving into a house as a single person while maintaining a (more than) full time job. He trimmed the bushes around my house after asking permission, because he loves to garden. He gave me bulbs and even planted some for me. He gives me all sorts of tips on gardening, and he also knows the good gossip on the street (which I of course close my ears to completely).

Lou has probably provided me with the most amusement, though you could say it is a toss-up. He's at least in the top two. First, he gets really nervous and worked up about things. I will admit that I am not the most laid back of people, but the stuff this guy gets worked up about doesn't even occur to me, and I find myself trying to calm him down a lot. Then there's the way he will come outside to talk to me when I am out in my yard, bring up topics of conversation, and then abruptly state that he has to go, with a tone conveying annoyance that I am somehow keeping him (recap: he came out to talk to me, introduced the topic, and is standing in my yard).

The absolute best Lou story, however, is one that just keeps giving and giving. It began last summer, when Lou starting complaining about a deer in the woods behind our houses who would come into his yard and eat all of his flowers. This would come up every time we encountered one another. Now, I understood his frustration, as he has a beautiful flower garden and he works hard on it. As he kept talking about his failed efforts to put a stop to the sabotage, however, things got more serious. He started talking about how he was checking with the city to see if you could shoot a deer within Cincinnati city limits. I said, "yeah, um...I think you can't." That was all that I could get out verbally, because images of camouflage-clad, shotgun-touting Lou shooting a series of bullets into my yard as Bambi's life flashes before her eyes and a soundtrack of me yelling for all my barbecue guests to "hit the dirt" were going through my head. Lou continued to bring that subject up all last summer, and my house guests started somewhat avoiding him for fear he would bring it up again. They had all heard it before. Luckily, cold, hard winter set in for a while, but the talk of the perils of deer sprung once again with spring 2007. Tonight, he conveyed a particularly amusing story of how he saw a pregnant doe in my yard the other day. Beautiful, right? Wrong. He decided to run after it and throw a rock at it. Um...that frightens me a little. But really, the image of it just completely cracks me up. Aw...Lou.

Now, please allow me to introduce you to Bernice. Bernice lives across the street. She is somewhere in her 80's and lived with her rather overweight boxer named "King" when I moved in. She immigrated from Vienna with her husband as a young woman, and she has lived on this street for many, many, many years. She pretty much owns this street if attitude, experience, and knowledge counts for anything. She has always been very sweet to me, but I was warned early on not to get on her bad side, and I can see why. She is a tough lady. She is, however, also a lady who is very hard of hearing. I have been awakened many a summer morning to the sound of her repeatedly screaming "King" in an unbelievably high-pitched voice only to look at the window and see her prod him along with some sort of walking stick. Say what you want, but that woman loved her Kingy. Sadly, King died this spring, and she has been devastated. It has given me many opportunities to talk with her and get to know her better, though, and I am really enjoying it. When I recently returned home from Colombia, she came running out the door to see me as soon as she saw me again, and we talked for like 45 minutes even though I was really needing to be somewhere. We hugged. It was sweet.

My favorite with Bernice, though, is how she will often make statements like, "Oh, that's nice dear" when she can't hear what I just said. It reminds me of the King in the Princess Bride, when Princess Buttercup tells him that she is going to kill herself and he says, "Well, won't that be nice."

My mission now is to find out ways my other neighbors can amuse me. Oh, and I guess I will try to get to know them, too. Won't that be nice.

*names have been changed to protect these very friendly, helpful, and overall lovely people who just happen to provide me amusement even as I likely do the same for them with all of my idiosyncrasies and those of my visiting friends (e.g., Aaron Maxie, who, when Lou had his shirt off as he worked in his garden on a hot day and stated "nice to see you again, Aaron," responded, "nice to see, too. And I am seeing a lot, aren't I?")