THE OLD NEIGHBORHOOD
I've been thinking about neighborhoods for quite awhile. Almost four years ago we moved here to beautiful, suburban Caledonia. Our previous home was in a summer resort community just over the dunes from the beaches of Lake Michigan. (As my SYS says, "If you live in a place you call paradise you can probably kiss it goodbye!) When we moved up here to suburban Grand Rapids we still had six of our seven children at home. Aaron had already made his escape to Lake Tahoe. So we had to buy a big house. In fact, we bought a house with six bedrooms in a brand new subdivision called Glen Valley Estates. Glen Valley was a farm about six years ago. That means we have a bunch of brand new homes with no trees. Mia hates the fact that there are no trees here. We planted three on our lot and none of them has a trunk more than two inches thick. I imagine that in about forty years this might be a pretty attractive neighborhood.
Back to neighborhoods. The Smoking Christian has moved into a place which he refers to as a retirement community. My neighborhood is just the opposite. The Smoking Christian and I are only one month apart in age but I am the grandpa in this neighborhood. All of my neighbors are engineers, dentists, lawyers, and hospital administrators. I am at least twenty years older than any of them. You can tell it is summer here when all the wives in the cul de sac meet on the sidewalk pushing one baby in a stroller and talking about when they are due next. My youngest daughters, the twins, are about to turn twelve. At least my girls are guaranteed many years of good babysitting jobs!
But what happened to the old neighborhood? The neighborhood in which I grew up was so different. We knew all our neighbors. The women had coffee together and the men met and talked on the streets. When it was time for supper the dads just stepped out on the front porch and hollered our names. Everybody knew everybody else.
Maybe I'm just being left out. We were invited to the neighborhood Christmas party a couple of years ago. Mia and I were excited about that and thought it would be a great opportunity to get to know everyone and make friends. We went to the party which was a progressive dinner. We walked from house to house for each course of the dinner. By the time we finished the main course all our neighbors were so inebriated that they had a hard time finding the dessert house. Mia and I don't drink much so we were the only ones sober. We thought the dessert would be the end but it wasn't! There was one more house to go to for after dinner drinks! That's where everything fell apart. There seemed to be a lot of flirtatious messing around there and I was feeling rather uncomfortable. We decided to go on home.
Ever since then we have felt a little left out. Maybe people are uncomfortable around a pastor. I don't know. Maybe they feel embarrassed about how the Christmas party turned out. Maybe they just think I'm too old to be out late. I'm going to keep trying because I like all these people. I want to walk up the sidewalk and have conversations with all the men. I want to know their families. I want the old neighborhood back again!
I like you guys too! Thanks for stopping by.
Back to neighborhoods. The Smoking Christian has moved into a place which he refers to as a retirement community. My neighborhood is just the opposite. The Smoking Christian and I are only one month apart in age but I am the grandpa in this neighborhood. All of my neighbors are engineers, dentists, lawyers, and hospital administrators. I am at least twenty years older than any of them. You can tell it is summer here when all the wives in the cul de sac meet on the sidewalk pushing one baby in a stroller and talking about when they are due next. My youngest daughters, the twins, are about to turn twelve. At least my girls are guaranteed many years of good babysitting jobs!
But what happened to the old neighborhood? The neighborhood in which I grew up was so different. We knew all our neighbors. The women had coffee together and the men met and talked on the streets. When it was time for supper the dads just stepped out on the front porch and hollered our names. Everybody knew everybody else.
Maybe I'm just being left out. We were invited to the neighborhood Christmas party a couple of years ago. Mia and I were excited about that and thought it would be a great opportunity to get to know everyone and make friends. We went to the party which was a progressive dinner. We walked from house to house for each course of the dinner. By the time we finished the main course all our neighbors were so inebriated that they had a hard time finding the dessert house. Mia and I don't drink much so we were the only ones sober. We thought the dessert would be the end but it wasn't! There was one more house to go to for after dinner drinks! That's where everything fell apart. There seemed to be a lot of flirtatious messing around there and I was feeling rather uncomfortable. We decided to go on home.
Ever since then we have felt a little left out. Maybe people are uncomfortable around a pastor. I don't know. Maybe they feel embarrassed about how the Christmas party turned out. Maybe they just think I'm too old to be out late. I'm going to keep trying because I like all these people. I want to walk up the sidewalk and have conversations with all the men. I want to know their families. I want the old neighborhood back again!
I like you guys too! Thanks for stopping by.
5 Comments:
Wow! You're putting us to shame! You've posted almost every day since starting your blog. You're making us feel guilty for our long periods of silence. I think one of us is going to have to quit their job and move into the garage to keep up.
Dear Yakimaniac,
You're too complimentary. We're all on the same team here. You have quality, believe me. I might have a good run but I'm old, I'm out of breath, and I'm out of ideas! Quality over Quantity!
I wish you guys lived here by us. I don't even know you all, but I can tell we'd be friends. I always thought it odd that friends don't commit to living together in a community. I have best girlfriends strewn about the US. We just follow our husbands to the next job, or the closest HTB in my case. I sometimes think we'd all be happier if we girlfriends decided to all live within walking distance of each other, and have ourselves and husbands just take jobs that would support the closeness. Your post had me thinking....
I do think people get weird around pastors, too bad because pastors are human too. Some of my best friends are pastors.
Wife of SC
I agree 100% with the Wife of SC. Everyone just needs to move here to the garden spot of Yukimoo. Income? Who needs income!
One of my good friends is a presby pastor in Gig Harbor, WA. I really like him for several reasons but most of all he swears when we play golf. I like that in a pastor, very human.
Ok, I'll move. We are already half-packed so it wouldn't be too hard! This cures my depression I've been slipping into as to where I'll put all this stuff.
I like humanoid pastors too. The latest book I read was the Wounded Healer. Good read tho dated, the message is amazing. I also insist on messy hair with my pastors. No hair spray please.
Wife of SC
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