Myself, at Ira Glass. The audience "all" wore these glasses.
*all=everyone but Steve.
From the time this neighbor moved onto our street, she was giving people headaches. From asking them to stop working on their house because it was too noisy, to leaving horrible phone messages about barking dogs, yelling and screaming at her children that could be heard from a couple houses away, all while she is inside the house, mind you. On a daily basis my backyard was used as her personal park, where she would chill for hours. A little awkward when you get out of the shower, walk around in a towel, and BOOM, you have visitors! And another vivid memory, is her taking all the street children, into another neighbors yard, that was very overgrown with weeds and honeysuckle. She taught them to eat that flower. As a side note, we have a lot of street cats whom, I am sure urinate all over that same flower she is encouraging everyone to stick in their mouth.
I ignored all this bizarre behavior for some time. It was annoying, yes. But I was not really affected by it, until one summer day she came into my back yard screaming at me, pointing fingers at my family, and blaming my kids for anything she could.
Since then, I had forgiven her, and forgiven her, and forgiven her. Because you see this was happening on a quarterly basis.
Then, it all came back. And it came back like a tornado ripping through my yard.
The scene:
I ignored all this bizarre behavior for some time. It was annoying, yes. But I was not really affected by it, until one summer day she came into my back yard screaming at me, pointing fingers at my family, and blaming my kids for anything she could.
Since then, I had forgiven her, and forgiven her, and forgiven her. Because you see this was happening on a quarterly basis.
Then, it all came back. And it came back like a tornado ripping through my yard.
The scene:
It was a Thursday afternoon. I was going out to dinner with friends later that night, so I hopped in the shower. There were a ton of kids in my backyard, including my previously mentioned neighbors. As I am throwing on a dress, I hear crying. I quickly walk back and ask who is crying, It was Peter.
"Peter, why are you crying, buddy?" I ask.
All the children, in a unified voice, explain that "J" has hit Peter with a stick.
* "J" is what I shall call the son of crazy lady.
J runs home, and I comfort Peter.
I am taking out the garbage, with Luke by my side, when I see neighbor come storming across the yard toward me. She is visibly upset, her eyes are wide with anger. "What just happened over here!"
I keep my head down, and Luke tells her that J has hit Peter with a stick.
"Luke, I do not want to hear lies, I want to hear the truth!"
Luke is stunned, and does not know what to say.
She continues, "your family is so mean to my children...."
Now I have to step in, and explain that it was my child that got hit with a stick, if any one should be upset, it is me.
"Your children, had to have provoked this. What were they doing to my son to make him hit Peter with a stick?"
I tell her, "Oh, (insert her name) let it go."
Her arms fly into the air, and her head should have popped off, and she screams "Oh, (insert name) let it go yourself, you B*@#*!!!"
I take a deep breath. She continues to scream and yell, about how my kids are so mean and every time they are with my kids something happens. I can't help but think, why she even lets them come over, if that is how she felt. But she never watches her kids anyhow. They are seen riding down the street helmetless for hours.
At this point, all the children are standing in shock, listening to words that I did not hear until high school. Then she slaps the classic insult, that she uses every time. "You call yourself a Christian. You are the furthest thing from that. You go to church every week on your high horse, and think you are so wonderful. You're not!"
"That is great. Make sure you play the Christian card in this. You got to get that jab in," I gently tell, her and try to get inside my house. At this point I am sick of being called a bitch. So I turn to her as I am about to close the door, and say, "No wonder you have no friends. You cannot even carry on a civil conversation." Yes, I know it was below the belt. Probably, even "unchristian," but it felt good to say it!
"Peter, why are you crying, buddy?" I ask.
All the children, in a unified voice, explain that "J" has hit Peter with a stick.
* "J" is what I shall call the son of crazy lady.
J runs home, and I comfort Peter.
I am taking out the garbage, with Luke by my side, when I see neighbor come storming across the yard toward me. She is visibly upset, her eyes are wide with anger. "What just happened over here!"
I keep my head down, and Luke tells her that J has hit Peter with a stick.
"Luke, I do not want to hear lies, I want to hear the truth!"
Luke is stunned, and does not know what to say.
She continues, "your family is so mean to my children...."
Now I have to step in, and explain that it was my child that got hit with a stick, if any one should be upset, it is me.
"Your children, had to have provoked this. What were they doing to my son to make him hit Peter with a stick?"
I tell her, "Oh, (insert her name) let it go."
Her arms fly into the air, and her head should have popped off, and she screams "Oh, (insert name) let it go yourself, you B*@#*!!!"
I take a deep breath. She continues to scream and yell, about how my kids are so mean and every time they are with my kids something happens. I can't help but think, why she even lets them come over, if that is how she felt. But she never watches her kids anyhow. They are seen riding down the street helmetless for hours.
At this point, all the children are standing in shock, listening to words that I did not hear until high school. Then she slaps the classic insult, that she uses every time. "You call yourself a Christian. You are the furthest thing from that. You go to church every week on your high horse, and think you are so wonderful. You're not!"
"That is great. Make sure you play the Christian card in this. You got to get that jab in," I gently tell, her and try to get inside my house. At this point I am sick of being called a bitch. So I turn to her as I am about to close the door, and say, "No wonder you have no friends. You cannot even carry on a civil conversation." Yes, I know it was below the belt. Probably, even "unchristian," but it felt good to say it!
"I have friends. Just not your stupid friends!"
As I am trying to shut the door, she puts her hand out to hold the door from shutting, "You B*&%$!!!!! You FAT,GOTHIC, WHORE OF A BITCH!" I shut the door.
Luke is laughing uncontrollably. Asking if he can record her.
Now I am hurt. Fat? She hit a sore spot. Funny that being called a witch does not even bother me, but fat? Yeah, that hurts.
This lady then goes out and screams profanities at my house, for minutes on end, pacing back and forth like a rabid badger.
This lady then goes out and screams profanities at my house, for minutes on end, pacing back and forth like a rabid badger.
My new neighbor saw yelling at these closed doors, and later told me. "Wow! That was a great show."
Yes, maybe for him. Not to me.
Outcome:
I have forgiven her so many times, this time might be the hardest of all. My aunt told me that on my last day here, before moving, I should take a plant over to her and say that I forgive her.
That will not be happening!
I have to hold my head high every time I walk outside. But it is hard, and I am afraid. I am afraid to go into my own front yard. I am afraid to take my kids on a walk past her house. But I keep doing it, because I did not do anything wrong. I keep doing it because I know it makes me stronger. And I keep doing it because it makes Steve proud of me.
I smuggled glasses out, so my kids could have some.
To be fair, it was not my idea.
Peter wore his during church today.
