Walking with a neighbor
Last Tuesday my sister-in-law and I went for a walk with Reena (name changed), a neighbor down the street.
Another neighbor D, who always smiles and stops to chat while walking his dog and whose colorful "kindness always" yard sign cheers with its message, had done something very peculiar just a week before. He and his wife P had invited about 25-30 neighbors to a backyard party and grilled burgers and hotdogs for everyone. (It was peculiar because, although we and our neighbors are social and have parties all the time, those are for our outside friends ...not locals!). As a result of D & P's unusual initiative, now when I walk down the tree-shaded street across from my house, I know a lot more about the people who live there and carry on an internal monologue about them - "there's Ross sitting on his porch, Reena must be busy cooking for her husband, I like the tall grasses Sherri and Karl have lining their yard". Even when I didn't get their names, I recognize them.."ah, the lady who just drove past..she's the one who brought lemon cupcakes decorated with her granddaughter to the party last week."
It was at D & P's backyard party that I met Reena. She was wearing a bright red silk shirt and a heavy chain with a locket that had her name picked out in gold. She's probably close to my age but because of her bad back and slow walking, seems older. She wrote down my name and phone number and said she was going to call me. "I saw you here last week," she said, "I was with my daughter and her baby in a stroller but I don't like walking alone. Where do you shop? Maybe we can go shopping together!" "We can walk together sometimes," I said. That was Saturday. Monday there was a call, "How are you? Do you want to go for a walk?" "How about tomorrow? We could walk on Tuesdays." I said, doing some cold-blooded calculation as to how much time I was willing or able to spend with my newly-friendly neighbor and hitting on a walk once a week as doable. My visiting sister-in-law was enthusiastic about it. That's how we happened to go on a walk together on Tuesday.
We met Reena at her door and set off at the slowest walker's pace towards the circle at the end of the road. A lady was collecting her mail. "You were at the party the other day!" Reena said cheerfully. The lady wished us a pleasant walk and went back inside. Reena was holding a small device connected by wires to both ears. She must be listening to music, I thought. But once we rounded the circle and headed the other way, she stopped and wrinkled her brow in concentration, "She's asking a question!" "Who?" "The lady who runs the Arabic radio program. She's asking....how can I say it, it's in Arabic....what..will..stop your hunger." "Is it a quiz show?" "Yes!", Reena gave me a sweet smile.
We walked on. "Aren't you hot with your long hair let loose?", Reena said to my sister-in-law. "I'm used to it." I had to translate between them since one has an Indian accent and the other a Chaldean one. Mine is the most neutral (if you buy in to the notion that American English is "normal"). "People are saying random things, one person said coffee, another one said ice cream." Those must be the callers to the radio program, I thought. They appeared to be as confused as I was by such an open ended quiz question - there had to be some qualifier to the unknown thing that stopped hunger. Maybe there was some wordplay in the Arabic phrasing that many immigrant callers were not getting.
We walked past Reena's house in the other direction, towards ours. She pointed to her neighbor's porch and her expression clouded and she lowered her voice, "Did you hear?" "Yes, at the party.... his wife passed away two weeks ago." "I didn't even know! Next door neighbor." I agreed. It was sad and shocking. At 4 a.m. Reena's neighbor's wife, diagnosed with cancer a few months ago, had collapsed on the toilet and he had been so stunned that it had taken him a few minutes to decide what to do and call 911. One thing, in that immensely lonely moment, had never entered his head....calling his neighbors.
My sister-in-law's thick, long hair, cascading down her neck and back was really bothering Reena. "You must be so hot! Put it up!" she gestured. SIL twisted her hair round skillfully into a high knot. "Good job", Reena approved. We were heading towards our driveway. "Do you have a vegetable garden?" It was only polite to invite her to see it. Should I ask her into the house? I decided not to, we were technically still on our walk. I suggested we circle around our block. But Reena was already tired out, so we headed back to her house. "Did they give the answer to the quiz question?" I ask. "Not yet but the hour is almost over, she will say it soon." "It's apple! One girl got it. They will give her a prize. They told her to go to a grocery store in Rochester Hills to pick it up." I guess I will never know the exact question to which "apple" was the unique answer.
We reached Reena's house and she led us into her backyard to show us her garden, much larger than ours, filled with rows of tomatoes, eggplants and beans. There is also a grape vine with tiny green grapes on a wooden trellis. "Do you stuff these leaves?" I ask. "Not these. They are not good - too thick." she says. She invites us to sit on a swing chair on her deck. "You should come inside, have some coffee..". I can see that, coming from an old culture, she is uncomfortable that she's left us outside and not offered us any sustenance. We politely decline and promise to have coffee another day.
We say goodbye to Reena outside her gate. SIL and Reena, both warm-hearted women, tell each other "I like you very much" and hug each other. I, the cold calculator, make a mental note to call her in a week. It's two more days to Tuesday. I plan to call Reena at 4.
Another neighbor D, who always smiles and stops to chat while walking his dog and whose colorful "kindness always" yard sign cheers with its message, had done something very peculiar just a week before. He and his wife P had invited about 25-30 neighbors to a backyard party and grilled burgers and hotdogs for everyone. (It was peculiar because, although we and our neighbors are social and have parties all the time, those are for our outside friends ...not locals!). As a result of D & P's unusual initiative, now when I walk down the tree-shaded street across from my house, I know a lot more about the people who live there and carry on an internal monologue about them - "there's Ross sitting on his porch, Reena must be busy cooking for her husband, I like the tall grasses Sherri and Karl have lining their yard". Even when I didn't get their names, I recognize them.."ah, the lady who just drove past..she's the one who brought lemon cupcakes decorated with her granddaughter to the party last week."
It was at D & P's backyard party that I met Reena. She was wearing a bright red silk shirt and a heavy chain with a locket that had her name picked out in gold. She's probably close to my age but because of her bad back and slow walking, seems older. She wrote down my name and phone number and said she was going to call me. "I saw you here last week," she said, "I was with my daughter and her baby in a stroller but I don't like walking alone. Where do you shop? Maybe we can go shopping together!" "We can walk together sometimes," I said. That was Saturday. Monday there was a call, "How are you? Do you want to go for a walk?" "How about tomorrow? We could walk on Tuesdays." I said, doing some cold-blooded calculation as to how much time I was willing or able to spend with my newly-friendly neighbor and hitting on a walk once a week as doable. My visiting sister-in-law was enthusiastic about it. That's how we happened to go on a walk together on Tuesday.
We met Reena at her door and set off at the slowest walker's pace towards the circle at the end of the road. A lady was collecting her mail. "You were at the party the other day!" Reena said cheerfully. The lady wished us a pleasant walk and went back inside. Reena was holding a small device connected by wires to both ears. She must be listening to music, I thought. But once we rounded the circle and headed the other way, she stopped and wrinkled her brow in concentration, "She's asking a question!" "Who?" "The lady who runs the Arabic radio program. She's asking....how can I say it, it's in Arabic....what..will..stop your hunger." "Is it a quiz show?" "Yes!", Reena gave me a sweet smile.
We walked on. "Aren't you hot with your long hair let loose?", Reena said to my sister-in-law. "I'm used to it." I had to translate between them since one has an Indian accent and the other a Chaldean one. Mine is the most neutral (if you buy in to the notion that American English is "normal"). "People are saying random things, one person said coffee, another one said ice cream." Those must be the callers to the radio program, I thought. They appeared to be as confused as I was by such an open ended quiz question - there had to be some qualifier to the unknown thing that stopped hunger. Maybe there was some wordplay in the Arabic phrasing that many immigrant callers were not getting.
We walked past Reena's house in the other direction, towards ours. She pointed to her neighbor's porch and her expression clouded and she lowered her voice, "Did you hear?" "Yes, at the party.... his wife passed away two weeks ago." "I didn't even know! Next door neighbor." I agreed. It was sad and shocking. At 4 a.m. Reena's neighbor's wife, diagnosed with cancer a few months ago, had collapsed on the toilet and he had been so stunned that it had taken him a few minutes to decide what to do and call 911. One thing, in that immensely lonely moment, had never entered his head....calling his neighbors.
My sister-in-law's thick, long hair, cascading down her neck and back was really bothering Reena. "You must be so hot! Put it up!" she gestured. SIL twisted her hair round skillfully into a high knot. "Good job", Reena approved. We were heading towards our driveway. "Do you have a vegetable garden?" It was only polite to invite her to see it. Should I ask her into the house? I decided not to, we were technically still on our walk. I suggested we circle around our block. But Reena was already tired out, so we headed back to her house. "Did they give the answer to the quiz question?" I ask. "Not yet but the hour is almost over, she will say it soon." "It's apple! One girl got it. They will give her a prize. They told her to go to a grocery store in Rochester Hills to pick it up." I guess I will never know the exact question to which "apple" was the unique answer.
We reached Reena's house and she led us into her backyard to show us her garden, much larger than ours, filled with rows of tomatoes, eggplants and beans. There is also a grape vine with tiny green grapes on a wooden trellis. "Do you stuff these leaves?" I ask. "Not these. They are not good - too thick." she says. She invites us to sit on a swing chair on her deck. "You should come inside, have some coffee..". I can see that, coming from an old culture, she is uncomfortable that she's left us outside and not offered us any sustenance. We politely decline and promise to have coffee another day.
We say goodbye to Reena outside her gate. SIL and Reena, both warm-hearted women, tell each other "I like you very much" and hug each other. I, the cold calculator, make a mental note to call her in a week. It's two more days to Tuesday. I plan to call Reena at 4.
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