Six years ago, I moved to New Jersey from Virginia. I thought, in my naivety, the neighborhoods would be similar. A street of neighbors who introduced themselves, shook your hand, shared stories on the stoop, had the occasional meal together, and offered to feed your bird, and water the plants when you went on vacation.
About three years ago, I broke both bones in my right arm, crushed much of my wrist, and for several weeks sported an external metal bone fixator held in place by four pins screwed into my hand and arm. The hand couldn’t grasp, move or handle weight so I was, in effect, a 60-something one armed single woman trying to cope with the daily activities most take for granted. I couldn’t drive so the battery in my car died. I couldn’t carry more than a single light grocery bag, so shopping was a nightmare and the local bodega didn’t carry bird foor. I couldn’t clean my house, change my sheets or pillowcases (try it yourself), fill out a form, open a bottle or jar, use a scissors or cut up a tomato. I struggled to dress, do laundry, fold or hang up clothes. Taking a shower took 45 minutes and drying my hair was accomplished with a hair dryer clamped to a stepladder.
Despite many people on the street having knowledge of the accident, not a single person in all that time stopped by and said – do you need anything? how are you doing? are you eating? can I help?
I used up my sick and vacation days but despite the dizziness and upset stomach associated with the pain medicines, I went to work each day, walking the ten blocks back and forth to the train station, no matter the weather or temperature. One rainy, foggy day just like today, I was so sick I called a taxi and, after waiting almost an hour for it to show up, I saw a neighbor’s car in their driveway. I called to beg for a ride to the train, and I would have paid them. Their answer? “Call King Cab. Don’t know their number but you could look it up.”
If you wonder why there is trash on the street, dog poop on the sidewalk, grass that hasn’t been mowed for two years, fences and steps falling down, and a general attitude of let someone else take care of it…I couldn’t give you a better example than how neighbors care about the people who live right next door.
Last year, an empty lot in the middle of the neighborhood was purchased by a developer who required rezoning to erect a 3-story building so large it would impact the local environment. Those same neighbors from above were suddenly able to form a coalition, hold meetings, send dozens of emails, and attend the zoning commission hearings, in an attempt to get something done.
I guess the view from the window was more important than the person who lives next door.