I’ve been thinking a lot about the neighbors. I have always been fascinated by the concept of neighbors; neighbors today vs. neighbors “back in the day;” how we know (or don’t know) our neighbors; the role neighbors play—and have played—in my life.
Most of my friends come from various aspects of my life: school, work, my children. I can trace back how we met and what we had in common. But, one of my best friends, going on 45 years now, used to be my neighbor in Seal Beach, on Marine Avenue in Old Town. We started as “just neighbors” but grew to be intimate friends because we saw each other literally every day.
Decades later we are still friends and I treasure her friendship because I know our paths would never have crossed had we not met first as neighbors.
When my husband and I lived in Nevada City (the foothills of the Sierra) we had a cool neighborhood walking group. We would meet at the fire station at 8 a.m. three mornings a week for a five mile walk down a country road. Most of us had a dog or two, and they accompanied us (off leash) on our walks. Some days there were three people and a couple of dogs and other days there were more than a dozen people and too many dogs to count. The dogs all got along because of the pack mentality and we got to know each other better as we walked. It made us better neighbors and we all looked out for each other just a little bit more because of that bond.
Now, I’m part of a new sort of neighborhood activity. It is different, but equally delightful.
We live on 14th Street, between Ocean Avenue and the Greenbelt. We have a small front yard with grass. One night my husband and I returned home about dinner time and there were two neighborhood couples on our lawn, talking. We joined the conversation and because it was Friday, declared it “Happy Hour” for us and “Yappy Hour” for the dogs. We agreed that we should continue the newly-minted “tradition” the following Friday.
That next Friday we were prepared and set out appetizers and some chairs. A few more neighbors joined in. One of them volunteered their front patio as the next week’s destination.
That was about three months ago.
Last Friday was our largest gathering yet, with more than two dozen neighbors joining in. The rotating Happy Hour was at “The Hedge House,” our name for a house that isn’t really visible from the street. I think I can say I know almost everyone on our little block now, where before I only knew the names of a handful and very little else about them.
The party breaks up when the sun sets and a neighbor agrees to “host” the following week. We spread the word about the location as we walk our dogs or pick up mail. This Friday our next-door neighbors are co-hosting with the neighbors on the other side of them.
I know that we have a fantastic mix of people in our neighborhood. A fire captain, a plumber, a couple of retired teachers, some doctors, an engineer, a nurse. I’ve also learned that many are musicians as well, including my husband.
Maybe next we’ll start a neighborhood band.
Dixie Redfearn is editor of the Sun News.
