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When I was growing up, there was a woman who lived two houses down from my family. She had a son, who was about 2 or 3 years younger than me. (This woman's husband passed away when I was very young and, though she had two other children, they were grown and did not live at home). Anyway, we frequently encountered this woman (due to the closeness in ages between her son, myself, and my sisters). She had her youngest son later in life, so she was several years older than my own mother. In fact, most who encountered her and her son for the first time used to mistake her for being his grandmother, not his mother.

Although this woman was a cantankerous woman and wielded a very sharp tongue, my sisters, my friends, and I were all drawn to her. She usually "greeted" us with rolled eyes (like she was tired of seeing us) and a snide comment. I remember that, if you visited her as it was becoming dark outside, you would usually find her sitting at her mini breakfast bar listening to a talk radio show in the dark - no lights on. At times, she would startle us because we would enter the house (we usually just knocked and went in) and it would be completely dark. While standing there waiting for our eyes to adjust to the darkness of the house, she would speak - usually made me about jump out of my skin! We asked her why she sat in the dark all the the time and her response was usually, "Why do I need the light? I'm not reading - I'm sitting here listening to the radio." We would stand around or sit with her, talking, or venting - or listening to her vent because she was so worked up about whatever was being discussed on the talk radio station.

For some reason, most of the kids in the neighborhood overlooked her sarcasm and sharp tongue and felt able to tell her anything. She was one of those people who, although they appear tough, sarcastic, and generally miserable on the outside, was soft on the inside. I say that because if she did not see us for a couple of days, when we finally did see her, she would act disinterested, but she would always ask us where we had been lately. (And usually make some snide comment about how quiet it had been without kids going in and out of her house......LOL)

I'll wrap this up, though - the most vivid detail that sticks out about her was her odd behavior of sitting in the dark listening to the radio. I was just wondering if anyone else wanted to share a story about an interesting neighbor.

When we bought our first home in Florida we became close with our neighbor across the road from us. He was in his 70's and we called him Grandpa.

We just always looked out for each other. He would always do stuff for us without us asking, like while we were on the road (we were truck drivers for 5 years) he would organize our mailbox or take packages into his home until we came back. He took care of his wife by himself too while she was suffering from Alzheimers and I still remember the day she had to be taken to the hospital and she passed away there. He was standing in our driveway when he let us know and he said "she was supposed to come come in a few days...":-1

He then later met a sweet lady at his church and remarried and moved to her home, and he'd bring us grapefruit and oranges from her farm all the time. He was just one of the sweetest people I've ever met!:-4

Nice story Snoopy. Good lesson on not writing people off, everyone has something to teach us.



I have a story abought a neighbor but it was someone elses neighbor.

Every house on our block had children. One, two, three, some more. It was a great neighborhood tp grow up in. We had block parties and we would play tag in the dark, we had our little girlfriends and boyfriends and clubs.



We had little one man rafts with oars and on Sat. morning the parents would take turns driving us to the Minnehaha Creek. It was a winding river shaded by willows, it travelled through parks and golf courses, neighborhoods and countryside. There were areas with rapids and some deep pools we would swim in. We would pack lunches and stop on some bank for lunch.



One area the creek passed through was especially quiet and dark, the houses were set far back and high on hill. We always got real quiet when we neared one particular bend in the Minnehaha, we were waiting to hear the "sound"



There was a man that would sit in his back yard on Sat. afternoons and play the bagpipes. The eery music would drift down the river and carry us to him. As we passed him we would strain our necks to see him but he was always just a shadow, a mystery.



Its one of my more pleasant childhood memories.