When neighborhoods become homeowners associations
I don’t blame them.
It would be easy to say they don’t care about their neighbors, but the fact is that I’ve been so busy and overwhelmed, I don’t reach out to them either.
I’m part of the problem, you see. But problem it is.
I don’t even know the names of most of the people who live around me. The only reason I know the names of the people directly across the street is that they saw me out with candy on the front porch last Halloween and came over to introduce themselves.
I certainly see the irony in the fact that I make my living teaching people to communicate more effectively.
How we got here
We’ve lived here for 15 years. I know the neighbors on each side of us, but have hardly talked to either in the last three or four years. It’s hard, because we have a severely disabled daughter requiring 24-hour nursing, and we have a nursing shortage, so I have to cover a lot of open shifts—sometimes as much as 54 hours a week on top of a full-time job. (We’ve actually had 108 hours open some weeks, but my 20-something son splits it with me.) My wife is also disabled, and so cannot help either with our daughter’s care or with basic stuff around the house.
