In the frontier days, neighbors had
no one to rely on but each other, and dangers were numerous. Most folks with sense made a point of getting
to know each other and forming communities that, if not quite tightly-knit,
knew each other by face and name, with a few extra particulars thrown in. Today, we have the police and EMTs a phone
call away, and family who are now conveniently accessible by plane, train, and
automobile. I daresay we are no less
busy than our forefathers who saw to their work without the time-saving aids of
modern conveniences, but we are more private, more self- or family-focused, and
the sense of community in most neighborhoods has diminished. These days, the polite thing seems to be to
give neighbors privacy rather than to potentially inconvenience them or
embarrass oneself by putting oneself forward to initiate a relationship. Still, there’s an old-fashioned part of my
mind that thinks neighbors ought to know each other, at least to a basic
extent.
Traditionally,
and according to most etiquette manuals I’ve found, it’s the task of the
existing neighbors to take the initiative to greet the new neighbor. Naturally, one ought to wait until the hubbub
of moving day ends. A person may then
may wave and walk over when the new neighbors are in the yard to briefly offer an introduction, note which house he or she owns, and mention who else is in
the household. Alternately, a more
formal or extroverted sort of person might bring a gift up to the front door,
often involving food such as bread or cookies; the newbies are probably tired
and may not have unpacked much of their kitchen supplies. Unfortunately, allergies and other dietary
restrictions may make that an awkward gift, so some websites brilliantly
recommend giving the newcomers a little neighborhood cheat-sheet giving details
about mail, waste pick-up, groceries, shopping, churches, and the like. I would add, since it’s so easy to forget
neighbors’ names, that a new neighbor should give the newcomers their name in
writing—attached to the gift or on a business card or welcome note.
But
what is one to do when a month or two passes and nobody in the neighborhood comes by to say “welcome”? Such is the case with us. I’ve met only one neighbor, whom I’ve seen out
frequently to smoke and let her dogs out, and I was the one who stepped toward
her and extended my hand. Through the
introduction, I found out that three others live with her in that two-room half
of a duplex, but I’ve only waved to those others from afar, and I don’t know
their names. As for the neighbors on all
other sides, our lifestyles are such that we see each other come and go from
our windows, but we are never outside at the same time or in such a condition
as to make a spontaneous introduction natural and welcome.
I keep thinking that sometime we should go
around to doors to introduce ourselves. But going
without a gift would make me feel awkward and without an excuse for visiting (even though wanting an introduction is an excuse). Going with food or something else could be
awkward in other ways. And what if
they’re not home? Do we slip a note in the mailbox or try again... and again? Joel and I had an excuse not
to step out while we adjusted furniture and sorted boxes, but now that we’re
settled, we’ve fallen into our routines of work and chores, and time goes on as
we apply ourselves to personal pursuits.
Self-doubt and shyness provide convenient excuses to closet ourselves
away from public eyes, except for walks for one’s health or to the grocery
store. We have a sense that we belong in
our yards, our sidewalks, but who are we to trespass and approach the front
door of a stranger’s home?
I feel that greeting the neighbors
is a “must” for politeness’s sake, but then I think back on other experiences,
when our reception was initially polite, but then the other party didn’t follow
up on invitations and showed reluctance to even to wave hello and goodbye
on the way between their house and car. The potential relationship grew ever more distant and awkward, and my desire to make further invitations to them or other strangers dwindles each time they're deflected or forgotten in the nebulous “someday” or the unfulfilled promise of “I’ll let you know.” Of course, we’ve had experience with truly friendly neighbors, as well, and we have increasing enjoyment in entertaining family and church family and gaming friends . . . but with strangers, even though (or perhaps especially since) they're neighbors, we feel that acute concern of being a nuisance or unwelcome, which makes us draw back from initiating contact.
“One of these days”—I hope sooner
rather than later—I’ll get off my posterior, out of my comfort zone, and go a’calling
with Joel. It's the right thing to do. But for now, I hide in my
sitting room and type, musing about neighborliness that I'm too cowardly and lazy to practice.
