Saturday, June 26, 2010

Neighbors

I am not the sort of person who makes friends easily. I tend to be pretty shy. In even the most casual of conversations, I tend to stumble over my own words. Therefore, I appreciate that I have not moved into an area where the residents felt I needed to be ‘welcomed.’ No one showed up at my door with a fruit cake (or is that charming custom just a figment of the idyllic world of American TV?). More importantly, no one stops me on the way to my car to ask me how I’m doing and to tell me about their health problems (God, I am so happy to be rid of that woman!). A lot of my neighbors tend to keep to themselves, and for that, I commend them. I will not, all present evidence to the contrary, mock the man across the street who spends an hour each day cleaning out the tricked-out rims on his otherwise deteriorating Cadillac, nor will I complain about the pack of barking dogs that inhabit the area or the equally loud pack of barking children. I do not like to pass judgment on people.

It was bad enough to realize on our first night in our new house that having a firewall between us and the attached home did not necessarily mean that it was soundproof. At some point during the move-in, a middle-aged Caucasian gentleman, finely dressed in a paint-covered “sleeveless” T-shirt (including one particular rip which Janet Jackson might have referred to as an extended wardrobe malfunction) came over to introduce himself and pronounce how good it was to have “nice” neighbors. I don’t know what it was about the way he said “nice” that it automatically translated in my head as “white,” but I could tell the sentiment was there. He was quick to tell me that he and his wife lived upstairs in the house next door, while “Hispanics” were downstairs.** Sure enough, my husband tells me that later our friendly neighbor cornered him with a similar introduction, where he lovingly referred to the downstairs family as “those damn Guatemalans.” Apparently blatant racism is okay, as long as it’s not in the presence of a lady; I guess I missed the lesson on urban redneck morality.

Look, I realize that these people are probably holdovers from the good old days, before the race riots, when Chambersburg was an Italian neighborhood. I accept that, back in those days, casual racism was par for the course. I’m sorry that I am a child of Baby Boomers who grew up in a cloistered New York City suburb, where I had the luxury of being taught silly things about color only running skin deep and that discrimination is bad (it wasn’t that they didn’t want people of color living in their town, they just couldn’t afford the homes). But listen, if you hate them so much, get the hell out of their city. Shit changes, get over it.

Actually, I would like to revise: I do not like to pass judgment on people, unless, of course, they themselves are judgmental.



**On a side note, the house attached to ours cannot possibly be any larger than ours. My husband and I use every inch of our three-bedroom home by ourselves, and I cannot possibly fathom how two families manage to live in the same space. Perhaps I am judging a book by its cover, but neither family appears financially able to be the owners/landlords. From what we can tell, our house was practically condemned before the investors who bought it got to it. Almost every joist in the basement had to be replaced from termite damage, and since moving in I have found more than one inch-long dead cockroach in the basement. I can’t imagine that living conditions over at the other house were any better, and they obviously did not have an opportunity for a 9 month remodel. In fact, I am sure our termites just packed up and joined their cousins on the other side of the concrete. I’m sure the house isn’t as bad as some of the others in Trenton, and I’d hesitate to call the owner a “Slum Lord,” but I’m sure they’re paying far more in rent than he should reasonably be putting out for upkeep. I shudder to think about the conditions that the young Latino family downstairs must be forced to raise their little baby in.

2 comments:

  1. First, good luck with that landlord next door.

    There is some pretty icky blatant, old school racism here. Last summer there were a bunch of home security company scam artists in the area peddling bogus alarms. There may have been some legit alarm salespeople at that time, but the east ward was inundated with dinnertime knocks on the door that we were all tired and impatient. Anyway, one night, I answered a knock on the door, and a young white guy from Bogus Company X said, not-so-under-his-breath, "Wow, it's nice to see someone of my own gender." I was wearing a stupid t-shirt, and probably didn't have make-up on, but I don't think I look too much like a guy, so I gave him the stink-eye. "Uh, I mean RACE. It's nice to see someone from my own RACE."

    Sure, I didn't like that he called me a dude at first, but at least I was the sole target of that insult. It's so disturbing that some people feel comfortable enough to so casually slight entire races. It's gross.

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  2. Hey Tracy!

    Welcome to Trenton. I will say Chrissy is right. There is some old school racism here but at least it's up front. I'm from a NYC suburb too (White Plains) but at least here in Trenton it's in your face. I actually appreciate it in a strange sort of way. And it's not just White v. Hispanic, it's Black v. Hispanic too which, as a Black woman, makes no sense to me.

    Anyway, I also don't link too far from the High School so welcome to the 'hood!

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