Jesus said to love thy neighbor — the Golden Rule. Jesus must have had some awesome neighbors.
I, too, am lucky enough to have some incredible neighbors. Some folks who I know would do anything for me at the drop of a hat.
I live on a block that’s practically a neighborhood unto itself. There are block gatherings for holidays and local traditions that only members of the block would understand. It’s actually the same block I was born on and, after a couple-decades hiatus, found myself back on.
Not much changed during that time. Some of the neighbors are the same ones who were here when I left 25 years ago. I love my block and am blessed with some of the best neighbors a guy could ask for.
But I am also cursed with others.
In a way, neighbors are like family. In most cases, you don’t get to pick them. And in most cases, you’re stuck with them. Oh boy, are you stuck with them.
The Hatfields and McCoys are probably the most famous neighbors in history. I think that story sums up the whole neighbor thing pretty well. A generations-long feud where nobody even remembers how it all started. I can see it. I understand where they’re coming from.
Sometimes I think I’m being a little dramatic. Everyone deals with this stuff, right?
Then there are other days when I look out the window and think to myself, “No. Everyone does not, in fact, deal with this.”
How do I know that’s true? Well, I think if everyone dealt with this, the murder rate in Rockaway would be a lot higher.
In the end, I guess everyone deals with it to some extent. Some people like loud music; they usually live next to people who enjoy peace and quiet. Some people stay up late; they always seem to live near the early risers. Some folks have a passion for collecting garbage; they always happen to find themselves living near … normal people. Funny how that happens.
This all reminds me of one of my favorite quotes from the television series “Justified”: “If you run into an a—hole in the morning, you ran into an a—hole. If you run into a—holes all day, you’re the a—hole.”
Am I the a—hole? Boy, do I find myself asking that question a lot these days.
As I was writing this article, I was using voice-to-text. My muse was “at it,” let’s say, and I found myself unable to look away from the metaphorical car crash. The article was practically writing itself. Several times, I looked down at what had been written only to find things like “You can’t do that” and “Oh my God” directly in the middle of the article I was dictating.
Those weren’t part of the column. They were just my guttural reactions that involuntarily escaped my mouth as I watched some of my neighbors just being themselves.
“Love thy neighbor.” That’s sure asking a lot. I guess that’s the whole point.
Do I have to love all of them?
Let’s just say I don’t see there being a new Saint Sean of Rockaway anytime soon.
