We have a new neighbor.
When I drove home from work one afternoon, a hippy boy with long curly hair was standing aimlessly on the bottom porch. We introduced ourselves, and I went on my merry Minnesota nice way.
Except that I am trying to be more friendly, and allow people into the inner circle of friends that I call my entourage. I'm trying to be more inclusive, neighborly, unclosed. It's kind of hard to do considering our culture here-
But, Karen and I were sure to make it happen. She sent down welcome baked goods, and he came up and was thankful. Unlike the previous neighbor boy who eat our homemade treats, then put his wad of gum on the plate (which belonged to me), and left it out. That poor fool, pretty much propelled himself into the negatives as far as good neighbor ratings goes... But, our new friend B is a much better fit-
I came home a few days later, and he was standing, looking lost- yet in place on the back porch, another free-spirit child in Dinkytown. We struck up a conversation, and of course, like all nurturers I asked him, "have you eaten?" What do you think, when your kitchen consists of a few boxes?
And up he marched, all six feet something of himself to our kitchen where I whipped up gazpacho. It was good. Then we all talked, the roomies, b and I, trying to get to know him a bit.
He went to private school, grew up in a nice neighborhood, drives a saab, and is into socalism/marxism. Um, crack me up. Reminds me so much of Sarah Lawrence! But- he had good tales to tell of his adventures in Russia, and so we are golden. Plus, a man who has bobby pins in his hair, how can you not marvel at that?
On Thursday evening Karen and I came down to his door again (this time with carrot bread), and instead of B found an empty house, no lights on, and the burner of one stove lit. Oh no! We called our prop manager (who is a joke), and B came home not soon enough, to turn his stove off. "That's funny, I don't remember turning it on," he said. Later after a few glasses of wine, he turned to Karen and I, "I should probably have one of your guy's phone numbers if something like that happens again. I kind of need some older sisters to look after me."
After he was gone, Karen looked to me and noted, "he's going to need a lot of help."
Who is minding your long-haired son? Why the Emily Giffin-reading sorority girls upstairs, that's who-
