When I got home yesterday after my coffee at Starbucks, I found the front gate at my house shut. Strange. I never close the gate during the day and only find it closed after the maid has been at the house on Saturday. But this was Tuesday. How had it gotten shut, and why? Sometimes the mailman will leave a package and close the gate--but no, there was no mail. And it was clear that no one had actually been in the house. The front door was still locked and everything in place. A mystery. Why would someone have taken upon him- or herself to close the gate to someone else's house?
Well, the mystery was solved this morning when I ran into the neighbor from across the street. I have really never spoken to this man before, except for a cursory nod or good morning, although I have chatted with his wife briefly on a couple of occasions. It seems that the big fat brown dog had come to the house after I left and was pounding on the door, wanting to get her morning treat and then go to her room for her nap. The neighbor, hearing the racket and seeing the cause, had come over out of concern that the dog was going to mar the door (which, of course, she was). He explained to her, as he told me, that if my bike was not in the driveway, that meant that I was not at the house, and he ushered her out to the street and closed the gate behind her. I can imagine that the dog was fairly offended by all this--but not so much so that it kept her from returning later in the day.
The curious, and rather pleasant thing about this, in a foreigner's eyes, is the inclination of folks here to kind of watch over the neighborhood in general. Why should it have been this man's concern--a man to whom I had never spoken, mind you--that the dog was banging on the door or that she might mar the wood? Is it not generally considered a trespass in America for someone to enter your property or interfere in your affairs or alter the arrangements you have made (such as the positioning of the gate)? "It's none of my business" would be the more common response, right?
But here, these boundaries are not so rigid. They are subject to elasticity through the property of common sense and a collective conception of propriety. In the same manner, when recently the boy across the street was stuck on the roof of his house, no one called the fire department or the police. Everyone pitched in to find men and a ladder and to effect a rescue--for the collective thought was simply this: The boy is on the roof. He must come down. The neighbors, individual people on the scene, are the fire department, are the police. And they are, somehow, responsible for the dog who is on my porch pounding on my door.
It is nice to know that, when you are away from the house, your home is not really empty, your property not really unattended. Good people are watching, as a matter of course. It's just what neighbors do.
Well, the mystery was solved this morning when I ran into the neighbor from across the street. I have really never spoken to this man before, except for a cursory nod or good morning, although I have chatted with his wife briefly on a couple of occasions. It seems that the big fat brown dog had come to the house after I left and was pounding on the door, wanting to get her morning treat and then go to her room for her nap. The neighbor, hearing the racket and seeing the cause, had come over out of concern that the dog was going to mar the door (which, of course, she was). He explained to her, as he told me, that if my bike was not in the driveway, that meant that I was not at the house, and he ushered her out to the street and closed the gate behind her. I can imagine that the dog was fairly offended by all this--but not so much so that it kept her from returning later in the day.
The curious, and rather pleasant thing about this, in a foreigner's eyes, is the inclination of folks here to kind of watch over the neighborhood in general. Why should it have been this man's concern--a man to whom I had never spoken, mind you--that the dog was banging on the door or that she might mar the wood? Is it not generally considered a trespass in America for someone to enter your property or interfere in your affairs or alter the arrangements you have made (such as the positioning of the gate)? "It's none of my business" would be the more common response, right?
But here, these boundaries are not so rigid. They are subject to elasticity through the property of common sense and a collective conception of propriety. In the same manner, when recently the boy across the street was stuck on the roof of his house, no one called the fire department or the police. Everyone pitched in to find men and a ladder and to effect a rescue--for the collective thought was simply this: The boy is on the roof. He must come down. The neighbors, individual people on the scene, are the fire department, are the police. And they are, somehow, responsible for the dog who is on my porch pounding on my door.
It is nice to know that, when you are away from the house, your home is not really empty, your property not really unattended. Good people are watching, as a matter of course. It's just what neighbors do.
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