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Tuesday, June 21, 2005
Why Do You Live Here?
This morning a workman from the construction site across the street came over and knocked on my door. He was extremely upset, said that overnight a whole lot of equipment was stolen out of the house...which they left locked, both windows and doors. He wanted to know if I saw any suspicious activity. No, I saw and heard nothing. I'm so used to this place that it takes almost a 10 on the 38th Street disturbance scale to get me out of bed and at the window.
The poor guy was flat-out furious. He couldn't stand still to talk, paced back and forth, waved his hands around.
Finally he stopped the flood of verbiage, looked around at the neighboring houses and the street, turned to me again and asked, "What in the world is someone like you doing in a neighborhood like this? This is one of the worst parts of Hampton Roads. It's a terrible area. I wouldn't even want to stay here in that house overnight. Every day when my truck heads down the streett, I breathe a sigh of relief. Whatever possessed you to buy a house here?"
I told him that my son-in-law found the house and did all the details of property transfer for me. My first impression WAS negative, but I've learned to really love my home in the ghetto. I like all the neighbors except the ones in the yellow apartments. Matter of fact, the neighbors are very nice people, friendly, helpful, cheerful. I like the way the area looks, too...variety, big and small houses, most of them old and interesting. So far this seems like a perfect place for me.
The angry workman looked at me as though he thought I was crazy. "Unbelievable," he growled. "I wouldn't even want my mother-in-law to drive down this street in broad daylight, let alone move here...and I don't like my mother-in-law." He went back to work, shaking his head over my craziness.
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