My Published Articles for ViewsHound: Do You Have Good and Caring Neighbors?

Sunday, November 29, 2020

Do You Have Good and Caring Neighbors?

It is essential for your safety, happiness and peace of mind to have good neighbors that are also friendly and caring. Whether you live in an apartment, condo, a farm, town house or in a subdivision with single homes, it is important to have good neighbors. In the seven places that we have resided here in the US since 1960, my family have encountered all kinds of neighbors from the unfriendly( probably racist), neutral and caring neighbors.

Our first city of residence was Chicago, Illinois in the 1960's. I was still a graduate student at that time so we resided in a apartment managed and owned by the university. All of our neighbors were mostly students and others were employees of the University. We were lucky at that time to have good neighbors. My wife had joined a baby sitting cooperative with wives of other students students. We will have monthly pot lucks and picnics with the growing kids- the center of our social activities.

After graduation, we moved to Kansas City, Missouri, where I had my first industrial job. Our first rental single home was in a subdivision of mostly retired couples, so we did not have interaction with our neighbors. Our activity was centered in the Swim and Country Club two blocks from our house. We stayed in this house for one year since the owner decided to sell the house. We moved to another rental house about two miles away. Again, we did not have any interaction with our neighbors.

Our First purchased Home on Plattewoods, Missouri with the 4's, 1967

Our third home in the Kansas City area was in Plattewoods, Missouri. This was our first owned home. It was located in a subdivision with one and two acres lots in a semi-rural exclusive neighborhood. Our neighbor across the street was a teacher and was neither friendly or unfriendly. Our neighbor in the left side we never see. The only thing we saw in their backyard was a German Shepherd dog named Devil who barks when we approached the boundary lines of our fences. We have a distant neighbor about 4 blocks from us who were also Filipino-Americans and have two boys almost in the same ages with our children that we socialized.

Our next move was to Modesto, California, Stanislaus County- California Central Valley. We purchased our second 4-bedroom home in a newer subdivision. We have several neighbors but only one was friendly. We stayed two years in that subdivision then decided to sell the house so we can moved to a farm house with a barn that my wife converted into a Filipino Gift Shoppe. Our nearest neighbor was about 1/4 mile away. They have children who goes to the same school with our kids, but we never socialized.

Our fourth move was to Pinole, California in the East Bay when my employer in Modesto decided to close their agricultural research facility. We have purchased two homes in Pinole from 1974-1990. Our first home was a two story house in a subdivision with small backyards in the foot hills of Pinole. We have neighbors that are neither friendly or unfriendly.

When I broke my Achilles tendon playing tennis and had a hard time climbing the second floor bedrooms, we decided to move to a ranch type home about 3 miles in another older subdivision. In this neighborhood, we have two very friendly neighbors. One was a Filipina married to a Caucasian. The one across the street was super friendly and very helpful. He was a handy man and was glad when he offers to help me in the minor maintenance of the house and our yard.

Our residence in Hammonton Rd, Colesville, MD(1990 to 2002)

When I lost my job in the East Bay, our family moved to the Washington DC area where I worked for the Food and Drug Administration for 12 years. We purchased a 4 bedroom ranch style home with a full basement in a subdivision in Colesville, Maryland. We found in this neighborhood a very friendly and caring neighbor who was a widow. We socialized and invite each other in our homes and had a grand time.

A neighbor's duck swimming in our pool, Sacramento(Fair Oaks), 2005

Our last move was to the Sacramento area(Fair Oaks) when I retired in 2002. We decided to rent first so we will know the neighborhood before we purchased our retirement house. Our rental home was a 4 bedroom ranch with a swimming pool. We stayed there for almost a year and were able to meet only one neighbor. He was a retired physician, an avid reader and has no prejudice against Filipino-Americans. We realized this is not a very friendly neighborhood however since our other neighbors never bothered to introduce themselves to us.

We purchased our retirement home in a neighborhood with another ranch type house. The subdivision was built in the 1980's and populated mostly by retirees. In this neighborhood, we are very lucky to have two friendly neighbors. Our first caring neighbor is a widow originally from Italy. She does not drive, so every now and then I will drive her to church and to the grocery stores. She goes with my wife and I to the nearby Casino almost once a week. In return she would cook my favorite dish- fried eggplant. The other day she gave us roasted duckling. She also watched all unusual activities in the area, and lists all licenses of cars she does not recognized.

Our second friendly neighbor is also a retired couple about ten years younger than us. The man of the house is a handy man and I hired him to fix minor repairs in the house. He is also a computer expert and had help me with my computers problems in two cases during the last four years. We love this neighborhood, because we have two friendly neighbors who watches our home when we are not around and are ready to help us in a second notice.

May I reiterate then, that for your piece of mind it is essential to have good and caring neighbors. How about you? Do you have good neighbors?

Here's an example of having good and caring neighbors-From the FB page of Ditas: Thanksgiving Day, 2020.

I have the BEST neighbors Darrell and Stanley. When they heard I was going to stay home alone and do a family zoom and was thinking of ordering take out- they offered to bring me a delicious plate of all homemade from scratch thanksgiving dinner. Not pictured here is the amazing white chocolate cheesecake with a chambord coulis! All delicious and the zoom call was so nice to connect with family safely. #covidthanksgiving2020 #bestneighborsever

Meanwhile, enjoy this Video of Andrei Rieu, Plaisir d'Amour

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Guest Article from Susan Creamer Joy

In The Silence, by Susan Creamer Joy.

Today's guest article is from Susan Creamer Joy. Susan is one of my favorite authors in the ViewsHound community. Susan writes, draws, paints and cobbles together art from found objects making a variety of creations from jewelry to religious shrines. She frequently sports burns on her fingers from her soldering iron, paint on her palms and ink under her fingernails, but her hair is usually combed. When she is not losing time in the creative vortex of her studio, she is likely to be putting her knowledge of metaphysics and esoteric principles including Tarot, numerology, astrology and graphology to good use in consultations. Her children are grown, her husband still works and her four dogs believe she needs serious help. The title of her article is "A Matter Of Love And Death". Thank you Susan.

By the time they reached my bedroom door, I was already sitting up – my stomach ratcheted in the tense grip of an unnamed anxiety; my pillow, unburdened of my drowsy head.

To this day I cannot explain how I heard them coming up those stairs in their bare feet or how I knew that my father struggled to hold his composure as my mother unnaturally clutched at the folds of her dressing gown and followed him through the dark just a little too closely.

As the wooden groan of those old stairs tore into my bones that morning like a hacksaw, all I could see between the predawn shadows was the letter I’d written just hours earlier to my boyfriend, Chris, propped against the lamp on my desk across the room awaiting an envelope.

I had not slept well. It was late November and there had been so many changes since the middle of August when he left for the Air Force in Texas to begin basic training and I began my third new school in as many years.

The conspiracy between fate and the last surge of the Vietnam draft had broken apart the every-waking-minutes of our two-year union with unceremonious indifference. All that night my sleep had been infested by difficult dreams and by the illogical fear that truth and reality were merging into a darkness only a martyr could grasp; and at sixteen, martyrdom seemed reasonable only for the nuns among the poor in Bangladesh

I tried to remind myself that he would be home on leave for Thanksgiving in another few days. It was the only tether to calm I could find, but reviewing the facts offered little relief from my baseless fears.

Chris had been girding his pacifist sensibilities preparing to fight in an unpopular war that had not yet slaughtered its last innocent. I was hovering just over the line of inclusion at an exclusive girl’s school – missing him – and finding myself at odds with these young women and their attachment to propriety and with the prep-school veneer that blinded them to the fact that they were no better than anyone else.

Neither one of us was coping well with the worlds into which we were respectively summoned, and although we both knew that the best hope for any future together depended upon our individual successes apart, it was far from comforting most days.

But in spite of our discomfort, we each did our best; and, of course, there were the letters: Thin, plain-paper sheets with row after row after row of inky blue words penned with the intensity and awkward locutions of a love learned too soon. It had come down to just that little, but without them, I would have had nothing.

Chris was learning to fly. I was learning to drive, and both of us were aching to transport our souls to an earlier time through the hallowed intercourse of memories and dreams. Of course, as with all progress, there was the positive element: We were both clean and drug-free for the first time in years.

Now, without pretense, both healthy cognition and sincere motivation surfaced regularly in my psychology and prompted me to care about myself and to arbitrate against all temptation for a better standing in the world, in school and in my own eyes. I even did my homework.

No longer was I escaping today but, instead, living for my day of escape. Lying still in the dark of my room, I listened to the slow, padded footfall of my parents approaching and looked to the floor and to my history book half hidden beneath the nightstand where I’d tossed it the night before. Even in this early morning dark I could make out the swirls and stars in colored marker and the bubble-formed letters that spelled C H R I S in soft, juvenile curves on the torn book cover I’d fashioned out of a brown paper grocery bag.

I vaguely remembered throwing it there somewhat hastily. I had been doing my homework when a sense of urgency struck and I realized I had not written him as I promised I would and glancing at the clock, I noted it was nine-twenty-three. Why that mattered I had no way of knowing in that strange moment, but within hours, it would be one I would never forget; and although I was becoming drowsy and still needed to finish my work, I felt beyond reason that my letter to him could not wait.

So, I wrote. I would always write. I would always be there. He would always be there.“Suzi."It was my name spoken in the smooth and familiar voice of my mother, although weighted and slow, her head bowed to her chest almost as though she were speaking only to herself.

"Suzi.” She said it again, this time with sharp gravity, like a chisel against stone.

As if on cue, I leaned forward, flanked now by my parents who were sitting on either side of my bed.

I had been waiting for them. I don’t know how. I didn’t know why. The lights in my room remained off, but it seemed that the darkness clung more to them than to me, as though they were holding it there – away from me to give me enough light to see through the next moment. They were crying. My father was crying. My father. “Suzi. We have something very, very bad to tell you." Chris has been in a car accident." And he was killed."

If the world moved forward from that moment, I could not know it. f there were air around me worth breathing, I could not take it in. And if there were another sound beyond the leaden bellow of my own raw grief, I could not hear it.

"Who am I going to talk to? Who am I going to love?” I wailed. Who will love me? In that sodden moment violated by the intrusion of a predawn light that had no business rising, everything I ever believed about happiness, hoped for in life, trusted in or held as my own was annihilated.

After that – there was no after that. After that came months of hollow redundancies that would inform my way of being in the world for years to come. A serial commitment to waking up each morning, remembering he was gone and dedicating the remaining hours to forgetting. To that end I would try anything, drink anything, ingest anything, inject anything. It was a slow and arbitrary suicide by indifference.

Many years later, at 25 years-old and in the midst of a pharmaceutical free-fall leaning dangerously close to terminal, I discovered that I was expecting a child, and after a decade of forgetting, I remembered. I named him Griffin after the legendary winged lion, a symbol of the divine because what he inspired and the miracle that he was, were nothing less. I remembered and I loved again, and I went on to marry and to the gift of two beautiful daughters.

Today my son is struggling not to drown in the same well of drug abuse and apathy that almost swallowed me – his great, divine wings clipped by his own hand; and while it is up to him to restore his place in the sky, I will do my best to help provide an open runway.

In the meantime, I will continue soaring for both of us; bequeathed as I have been, with a determination to fly from a boy whose ragged fate precluded that dream.

Death took one young man from me once upon a dark time. If it has any intention of coming for this one, it will have to go through me. And trust me, it will be in for one hell of a fight.

Note: If you enjoy this article, please let me know.

Sunday, November 29, 2020

Do You Have Good and Caring Neighbors?

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