On New Neighbors

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.