What I am seeing

I live in a diverse neighborhood. Black, white, latinx, east Asian.

New Yorkers.

Old folks and families with little kids. It truly runs the gamut.

I live at a 4 way intersection. In the last two and a half years, I've gotten to know the neighbors alright but not like immersively. On cordial terms, but not besties.

Across the street to the west, there's Pat. She is a widow, her husband was a photographer for National Geographic before he got Alzheimers, and it eventually took him. She told me stories about how everyone in the neighborhood and the mail carriers all knew him, and if he got too far afield on a walk, they'd steer him home or call her. She only works a few miles away, so she could come back and fetch him if necessary.

Eventually he had to go to assisted living. She still has all his pictures and memorabilia in the basement.

I know her the best because she used to have Geoff dog sit for her, and our first Christmas time here she hosted a cookie swap, and I met some other people but I've never seen any of them since.

When Geoff started working the late shift, she switched to having the high school girls on her other side sit come to take care of the dog. The dog's name is Oliver. He's a little sausage of a Jack Russell Terrier. I adore him.

Pat is a nurse, semi-retired but not really. She and I were talking in the fall about a day trip up to New York City to go see a Broadway show. I really want to see Hadestown. I was going to ask her if she wanted to do that with me come this summer.

We talked about this in the "Beforetimes" as my friend Rakiesha calls it. She has a boyfriend. He has a really nice car. That's all I know about him.

We've got Tony and Betsy to the north, and I got to know them because of Pat. Last summer, she was getting ready for a three week vacation to Mongolia with the boyfriend. They also would be riding the Trans Siberian Railroad to eventually get to St. Petersburg. Trip of a lifetime.

Tony and Betsy were expecting a baby, and Pat gave them my phone number, in case of emergency. Tony's in the Navy. Betsy is also a nurse. Pat was worried that Tony would be deployed right when the baby was due, so she wanted Betsy to have a person. I was happy to be person on deck.

They are a year or so older than Jess, which blows my mind. Tony likes craft beer, so when we travel we bring some back for him and he does for us. He really likes Jam Bands, so we've talked a lot about concerts. I told them my favorite band was Guster, so he went and looked them up. Betsy said "oh yeah, that Satellite song was huge with our friends when I was in high school."

When... you... were in ... high school. Hashtag I'm the old lady next door.

Their baby, Jodi, will be 1 at the end of June. Tony was not deployed, so Pat's fears were unfounded but it was nice to get to know them, and of everyone around they're the closest to friendly neighbor-like friends I've made.

Today I was thinking about baby's firsts, and this would be her baby's first Easter. Supposed to be a photo-worthy day with some plastic eggs, some fluffy fake chicks, maybe a super cute little dress. Instead, daddy is working nights and coming home to sleep at 7am. Mommy is walking around the yard in yoga pants and a sweatshirt, holding the baby wrapped in a cute and appropriate fleecy baby blankie, looking at the new tulips that just came up this week.

Behind Tony and Betsy, there's a black family. I have only ever met the dad once, and that was when I moved in. He's a very large, imposing human, and I think his name may be Kumonte or Kubonte. I'm bad with names until I talk to people several times (see Pat, Tony, and Betsy above) I've had little opportunity to speak with them. There's the aforementioned dad, mom, grandma, the little cute girl aged between 7-9 I think, and a giant german shepherd that barks all day long out in the back yard when no one is home. I know they are all pretty much home now, like the rest of us, because the dog has been completely silent for weeks.

I do know the dog's name is Taz because he's been yelled for when he's out in the yard.

They go to church every Sunday, and I see them piling into the mini-van. They dress nice for Sunday services. Grandma always has the best hats.

Black Church, as Rakiesha and I have discussed over the years, has a certain look. I knew it from growing up (and I've been to a lot of Black Church and I love it).

You have to look it when you are the grandma, for sure. The "Aunties" in the church all have the very perfect Sunday Sensibilities. It always makes me smile.

Today, they were sitting on the porch (except dad, not sure where he was), and they were dressed for church. I don't know if they went to church, or just dressed for church to dress for church. To keep things normal. The little girl had on this adorable maroon flared top with maroon leggings, her hair done perfectly, and mom and grandma had on great hats. The dog was having a great time running around the girl, as she tried to set up a towel on the lawn to sit out on.

Catty corner from us is a Latinx family, there are a lot of children, a few adults. They all work all hours. I think mom does housecleaning, she's always putting cleaning gear in the trunk. They are very quiet, don't spend a lot of time outside. I see them mostly when dad and some other men are working on cars in the driveway. The only thing I really have ever noticed is they put a lot of trash out on Monday night. It is noticeable.

Behind me there is an older couple. I have not seen them in a month. I think they must have a second home, and they went there when all this started to go down.

Their landscapers have been here twice, and that's been the only sign of life. Usually if they're gone a couple of days, there's a guy Geoff's age, maybe a little younger, who comes to feed the cat. But I do believe they took the cat with, wherever it is. In my mind I'm thinking they probably have an Eastern Shore place. They look like people who'd have an Eastern Shore place. They also look like the type of people who wouldn't invite neighbors to their Eastern Shore place.

South of us there is Anna. And there was Bob.  Bob was very old, and when we moved in I thought they were husband and wife.

One day right before Halloween, Bob fell down coming up the steps after they got out of a taxi.  I happened to be outside, so I ran over to help. We got Bob upright, and I said something to Anna about "your husband." She looked at me and said "oh, he's not my husband."

"Are you his caretaker?" I asked.

"You could say that," she answered.

She had dropped the bags of groceries she'd been carrying, so I offered to bring it all in while she tended to Bob. She told me no, and Bob uttered the same. I offered to put everything up safely on the porch while she got him inside, and they accepted that.

Each Sunday they'd go by taxi up to the market. I offered to drive but Anna told me they liked the taxi.

I could hardly imagine why.

Taxi drivers would pull up to the house, lay on the horn, wait 30 seconds and leave. I had to only think she was calling them back repeatedly when this would happen. One day, a taxi driver was out there honking the horn over and over, so I went out in my slippers, and told him to knock it off, they'd be out when they could.

"They're old, dude. And slow. So give them a minute, they hear you, and so does the whole neighborhood so give my ears a break." And sure enough right then Anna opened the door to help Bob down the steps, and I fired the "See, I told you so" face at the taxi driver.

When Bob was feeling spry, I would see them go up to the bus stop. It frightened me to think that they had to cross 6 lanes of traffic with a very short pedestrian light to get to the northbound side of the bus route, this area is notorious for pedestrian deaths, even at well lit crosswalks. Somehow they always made it.

Around St. Patrick's day, in the Beforetimes, Anna was walking down the sidewalk alone. Doug and I were out in the garden planting bulbs, and she stopped to tell us how much she loved the daffodils in the yard (they are pretty nice). I asked her if Bob was okay, and she shook her head.

"He died in January," she told me. I was surprised and felt guilty for not paying more attention, but I am not the type to be all up in people's faces. And I'd heard plenty of taxi horns beeping, and had pretty much believed it was business as usual.

I told her that I was sorry, and she told me not to be, that she was "free" now. She then told me a long, wild, unbelievable story about their situation that is better saved for some other day.

The neighborhood is very quiet lately. There are people out for walks with their families. Sometimes people see two fat white folks walking up the street playing Pokemon Go (that's yours truly and Mr. yours truly). Sometimes they have an old, addled, elderly dog with them. Sometimes he's walking alone without the wife or the dog.

That's happening right now, so I can have a moment of solitude, and write this post.