Welcoming friends to the neighborhood

July 14, 2005

Dear Pat,

Four years ago, DC and I bought the house next door wanting some say-so over who lived there. At the time our windows were being plunked with a BB gun. The woman living next door said yes, we have a BB gun in the house but my sons are not allowed to play with it.

The next renters were college girls who sunbathed in the front yard. They were there only a few months when a neighbor with a big gun blew away an inebriated woman who knocked on his door at midnight. The college girls moved out right away.

College boys came next, fraternity brothers who wanted locks put on each of their bedroom doors. Guess they weren't all that brotherly, but we liked them. They had many parties. We turned up the TV.

Football players followed when the frat boys graduated. They partied on the roof. A couple of them had a rent-paying problem. I thought about reasoning with them, explaining that landlords have mortgages that have to be paid on time, but them leaving seemed best. We just wanted our house back.

They left it filled with personal fouls.

That was more than a year ago. The house has sat vacant since then. Both we and the house needed time to convalesce. We enjoyed having no neighbors.

Every time we thought about looking for new renters we decided to think about it some more.

Then one day last spring we found out that our friends Frank and Robyn love that house. They wondered if we were interested in selling.

If you're patient enough the tumblers eventually fall into place.

Since moving here 10 years ago we've sometimes felt like one of the pioneer families living at the edge of the wilderness. Most of the people we knew lived in trouble-free neigborhoods. Finally here were two allies.

We tried and couldn't think of any two people we'd rather live next door to. Maybe Eva Gabor and Eddie Albert.

If anyone will have adjusting to do, Robyn and Frank will. The dogs sometimes howl in unison when the bells at St. Mary Cathedral ring at 6 a.m. Alvie's baying can be heard all over the block.

DC also revs up the chain saw and the lawn mower at funny hours.

The shared driveway between the two houses is another issue. For a long time I thought a raccoon was knocking over the trash cans next to our back door to get leftovers. When I mentioned it to DC she confessed that the trash cans keep getting in the way when she turns around her pickup truck.

My own eccentricities involve golf and the electric guitar, both of which can result in loud crashing sounds.

Too late now. The deal is done.

Some doing was required because Frank was in his native country, Denmark, at the time.

Both Robyn and DC kept their maiden names after marriage. When our friends' banker saw four different last names on our sales contract, Robyn had to explain who went with whom.

We're the ones with the dented trash cans.

Love, Sam

Sam Blackwell is the managing editor of the Southeast Missourian.