My neighborhood is changing

[rburg]

Not to infringe on Charlie's excellent post, I figured I should make a new one.

I live in kind of an oddball place. I really don't have any neighbors across the road except fish (and raccoons.) Thats because its riverbank, and the river is deep and wide. But on my side of the water, we have houses. I'm lucky because behind me there's also nothing for a good, long way. Well, except a catch basin. It filled up once long ago. But its an overgrown thicket that also breeds mosquito's and raccoons. So I've only got a few moron neighbors, and one good one.

The house next to me has been vacant for just over 4 full years. Its been in the same family since 1937 when the big Ohio River flood washed the inner city clean (the most recent time.) The family bought it, the old woman died in 1968 and it went to her son, who lived there for a while before moving to Florida. So it sitting vacant isn't unusual. Normally its just a family flop house, where the son or relative who'd been tossed out or down on his luck can hang out drunk. That all changed 10 years ago.

I was off Jeeping in the desert and when I got home, I had a welcoming committee. My sons were there, waiting for me, and smiling. Obviously up to no good. What they wanted to see was my reaction when told I had a black next door neighbor. Sorry to disappoint them. One of my best neighbors was a black guy down the side street. He was the hardest working fool I'd ever seen. He was fireman, a bus driver on his day's off, and also did a wonderful job of keeping his yard nice. The only thing he didn't do well was keep his wife from having boyfriends. It was easy for the neighbors to figure out. Another black guy parking a block away and trying to sneek down the road. We all knew.

So my reaction to the news was just a blank look. Of course that didn't take long to change, since the new neighbor and his lily white wife had better things to do than go to work, or work in their yard. I grew to hate the guy, if only because he was living the good life while I was slaving away for 60 or 80 hours a week. He had some irritating tendencies. He liked to sit out on his front porch and drink beer, hooting and hollaring (not much different from our home grown hillbillies.) But his habit was to throw the beer bottles on the lawn, his own lawn. I could always tell when his father-in-law sent them some support money. He switched to Michelob bottles. And I learned some new constructive vandalism techniques.

We are helping to support Scotts turfbuilder. But I never use the entire bag of 25,000 sq ft of stuff. There's always some left over. So I just figured I'd help his yard along and distribute some across my fence.

But just over 4 years ago, it all came crashing down. 2 houses down I had a lawyer/idiot. He was nosy and a pain. But he did keep watch on the neighborhood. Through his curtains, sneaking peeks at everything. What he saw was the neighbors oldest girl out behind the next guy down's house. He had a wooded area with a picnic table. That guy and the lawyer got together and discussed it. Turns out the 13 year old girl was meeting someone, and they were stupid and sloppy enough to leave their condoms lying about. More than one, so there were multiple rendevous. The guy who owned the picnic table got all self righteous and said if it were his daughter, he'd want to know. So he marches up the street and tell the black neighbor. OK.

Then the news breaks that "Roy", the black guy will be away for a while. Didn't take a rocket surgeon to figure out it was at state hospitality. Then I discovered our wonderful "KOOL" website, Kentucky Online Offender Lookup". Yep, there was my neighbors smiling face, his indictment, and his guilty plea to 4 sex offenses. With the indictment number, I managed to go to the courthouse and request the case file. They needed a nudge to show it to me, like my insisting I get to see it, or I file an open records request. He was boinking the girl, but she was his step daughter. He admitted to 4 liasons, so he got convicted of 4.

House has been empty ever since. But its supposed to be closing this afternoon to a new buyer. I wanted to buy it and tear it down. Just to control the trash that might move in. But on the plus side, I've been cutting the grass for the last 4 years because it just looks better when cut. Now the new owner can cut it, or I'll distribute double Scotts on the lawn.

When the old guy that owns the place and is selling called me to tell me what's going on, he did mention that the daughter/molestee now has a kid of her own. Not married of course, because the benefits are much better for a single mother. Its a way of life.

[Andy Griffith]

Things will get better Dick.

*Crossing fingers*

If not, you can always sell the place to the fire department.

Hey, why don't you just live in the top of a fire station?!
Kinda like a high rise on the waterfront?

[K.38]

Hey Dick, there are lots of places for sale up Chalk Creek way. Or if you decide to move a little lower and move near us down in the cactus flats at least you will have one good neighbor.

[35Rem]

Ever wonder if Dick's and Charlie's neighbors write up stories on the 'net about them?
Might be some funny stuff, too.

[rburg]

Dick and Charlie's neighbors are lucky to have the electric bill paid each month. Hard to post stories about neighbors when you don't work, can't sign your name, or the only contact you've had with a computer is the one you've stolen from another neighbor.

[35Rem]

they don't get Internet Access "on the inside". How terrible...

[charlie sherrill]

My neighbors don't really bother me...so far they're scared of me. Most of my guns make more noise than theirs and some of them can actually read the "Beware Of Claymore Mines And Shotguns With Tripwires" signs. I also have one at the back door that reads "If You Made It This Far I Know Who You Are." Dick and I have compared notes on some of these genetic throwback missing link types before. I took his very good suggestion on the lawn fertilizer and enhanced it by using 13-13-13. It makes everything grow... even the trees. Occasionally one of them will stop by for some type of advice. I usually tell them if it's an emergency I will teach them how to spell 911. If not, call their lawyer or legal services. The patrol car in the driveway is sometimes unfortunatly a "skank magnet." The S.O. is 22 miles away and some people think I'm their own personal precinct. I had a couple awhile back pull into my yard in their ground slide in the middle of a fight. The "spandex queen" yelled out "I need some help!" as she beat her significant other with a beer bottle. I had just finished mowing my grass and was drinking my own beer and told her "You look like you're doing pretty good on your own, now get the Hell out of my yard." I'm convinced that the only place you can get away from this kind of stuff is in a gated community. Then you have to deal with spoiled kids who aren't much better.

[Spotteddog]

The "Chicago method" is when you turn off the NatGas or LP valve to douse any pilot lights, light a candle and leave it in the corner of the home furthest from the range. Light candle, open range's oven valve, open house shut off valve, go home.
Oh yeah, wear ear protection!

[rburg]

As Charlie pointed out, the hillbillies are a form of constant entertainment. Its free, and you just wouldn't believe their antics.

The house next door, again. Grandson of the owner was less than worthless. For whatever reason, he got out of the military. I suspect on less than honorable circumstances, but only because of his inability to do things very well.

He moved in back in the late 1990s, before the criminal appeared. I give everyone a chance, but this clown was a loser from the word go. He was driving an old Dodge Dart, or was until he decided it needed expert repair work. Its the only house around without a driveway. So he took the obvious method and drove it across his front yard and up to the front porch. Actually blocked the way in (well, except for squeezing around either side. To his credit, he did buy some ramps, put them against the first step so they wouldn't move, and up he went.

I guess he figured a master mechanic like himself could complete the overhaul in a day or two. Had he somehow managed that feat, this wouldn't have been a story or incident. Of course its illegal to park on the grass, but everyone was more interested in seeing what he was doing. It took him about a week to get the head off the engine, and the oil pan sat in plain sight for a long time. Finally, the neighbors (thank God) got mad and started complaining to the building department. They were (and are) clueless on how to stop that kind of thing. A couple of months along, a guy from up the road and around the bend stopped for a chat. He'd been calling the building department daily.

He'd moved across the river from Ohio, and said all his friends laughed about him moving to hillbilly heaven. He spent some time each week trying to get the mayor, the city commission (like a city council) or anyone else to do anything. A non-starter. They show up 8 hours a day, you expect them to work, too? So I figured I'd call just to see if anything could be done. The building inspectress was pretty upset. She said she'd been leaving notices on the car, in the mailbox, and taped to the door. No response. So like the jerk I am, I suggested maybe she should send the notices to Florida, where the tax bills go for payment.

When the grandfather got wind the kid was even living there, he was upset. More so because of the notices of violation that in theory anyway might lead to a fine against him. In less than another month, a wrecker appeared and away went the dead Dart. Never to be seen or heard from again. The kid vanished for a while, too. But then he was back. He'd been living there, coming and going thru the back door. Even is dad didn't know because he'd taped the front door and the tape wasn't broken.

The building checks the dad performed can best be described as a little better than a drive by. He'd park, walk to the front door, check his tape to see no one had entered, pick up a few weeks of mail, then leave.

But living on a bus line wasn't dignified enough for the grandson. He needed a proper ride. So in the boom days of the late 1990s, he went out and bought (contracted to buy is a better term) a brand new red Cavalier. For a while it looked like he was doing OK. He was going to work each day. Because his dad didn't know he'd bought a car, he didn't relate the red car to the house being occupied. He was never stopping after dark, so he didn't see the lights on each evening.

Then a funny thing happened. The red car started parking down the side street. I still didn't understand much of it. Then the red car began parking in the back yard. Because of the terrain (downhill), you couldn't see it from the road. He gained access by driving over the lawyers drive and then backyard into "his" own. When the lawyer came up for a chat one day, he asked me if I knew why he was driving over his yard and parking out back. Like the old Ford commercials, the light came on.

But I didn't like the lawyer, or the kid, so I just enjoyed it.

Then one evening as I started to pull out of my driveway, a wrecker pulled up to block my exit. I just called him a few choice names and pulled forward to back around the wrecker (I've got a 3 car wide driveway.) The jerk backed up to block me again. So my mood went to instant mad. I got out for a little church session with the wrecker driver.

Being the nice guy I am, I pointed out his conduct was a real good way to get himself shot. He then began backpedaling. So never being one to waste an advantage, I just said stand here for a minute while I go back inside and call the cops. Then he became all apology. He said he was looking for, what else, a red Cavalier, and they gave the house next to mine as the residence. I pointed to my jeep and suggested it wasn't a chevy, nor was it red, or a Cavalier. Then he mentioned he'd seen a red Cavalier in my drive and the driver entered my house. True, it was my son's car. Paid for, different license, VIN, etc. Ugly coincidence. But it was OK, if he wanted to tow the wrong car, we'd charge him with auto larceny.

It seems our repo artists here in KY are pretty stupid and sloppy. But during our little confrontation, the lawyer came waddling up the street. I guess he smelled a fee or something. He was very open about the kids car parking in the backyard. He even gave the wrecker driver permission to drive down his driveway, across the yard, and hook it up!

Caused some hard feelings. I didn't care. I've been convinced for the last 14+ years this would all end with me shooting someone. Be it the kid, the child molester, or someone else that caused me grief.

And why did the lawyer dislike the kid? Who knows. I understand why he hated the black guy. (he probably would have hated me if I'd told him how I helped out the 2nd oldest black kid.)

It was the kids job, after they got the water shut off, to go to the lawyers side water spigot and draw off a few mud buckets of water a few times a day. Because I detested the fool lawyer, too, I just told the kid one day he could get his dad to buy a double female coupler and open both valves. Presto, he'd have running water again! It worked for a few months until the lawyer tried to take a shower... Might have been his first one in months, but I suspect it was just chance the family was using water at the same time.

Couldn't have been them getting up before noon. To the lawyers credit, he did arise and go to his office each day. But the half black family (maybe its and unfair description, but it fits) also got their electricity the same way! I guess they figured if it worked for water, why not electricity? I had to look real close to even see the hose and extension cord running thru the high grass. I felt proud.

[tops]

That kind of people are not indigenous to Kentucky and Mississippi, they are everywhere. There is one family like that in North Carolina. Larry

[Aussie44]

rburg,I enjoyed your story...Keep writing,I want to hear more.


Ken

[sar4937]

Trust me, these guy even exist in paradise. They have just evolved a bit more.

[rburg]

More?

OK, Roy the step-child molester was a treat. Not too long after he moved in, summer came on us with a passion. It was hot. About 2:00 in the morning I heard glass breaking outside. I checked my house and everything looked good. But the next day I figured out what it was. He got hot and tried to open the window. I guess it wouldn't budge, so he broke it out! Just the storm windows. Glass all over the ground outside. He lived there between 1999 and 2005 when he got incarcerated. He did his glass stunt in 1999. When he went to the big house 6 years later, the glass was still where he left it. His father-in-law cleaned it up when he came up to work on the house so the city wouldn't demo it. Darn, missed a chance then.

They were pretty good at budgeting their money for the things they liked in life. Beer. Not utilities. One day about 2003 or 2004 the building inspectress called me. She wanted to know why there was a generator running in the back yard next door. So in my child like simplicity, I said "because their electricity is turned off." She said he can't do that. I said he's been doing it for a few weeks now, and no one can stop him.

So she came out to see. I showed her the wires from the pole, and how the middle one was still attached (its a ground wire.) But the top and bottom wires were disconnected and bent away from the pole. She wrote them up for it, and as I always suggested, send it to Florida. Poppa came thru again, sending $$$ to reconnect and pay the back bills. He had no idea they weren't working.

But my revenge was sweet. I was tired of their offspring throwing their fast food wrappers on the ground. Usually against my fence. One winter it snowed. Really good, like maybe 5 or 6 inches of the wet stuff. So I got out my snowblower and went to work. I keep telling everyone I'm a good guy. I do my own driveway, and then my sidewalk on the side street. Then I go down toward town, maybe 7 houses. I don't do the church down there, but I do clean off Mrs. Slay's sidewalk and drive. She's a nice old widow lady.

But this time I was sore about something. Either a real or imagined wrong. So I just moved all the snow from my walk and drive to the street. Specifically, under his stationary van. Well, under it, beside it, in front of it, and in back of it. Snow from a blower is much like an avalanche. Its a semi-liquid until it stops moving. Then it solidifies into an ice pack, not soft fluffy stuff. I've pulled **** with snow before, but this time I did a really good job of it. Despite their efforts, it didn't move until the big melt. And the beauty of getting up at 5:00 AM is the bed ridden and lazy have no idea what transpired while they slept. It kept on snowing a little, so the ground looked undisturbed except for the efforts of the nice guy next door who did their walk for them! Pretty white snow, smooth as a baby's behind! They weren't smart enough to wonder where the snow all went.

[perrazi]

mr burg, you write funny stories. sort of surprised with a snowy winter, that usually gets rid of the riff raff. they go to the shelter until spring.

[rburg]

Originally Posted by perrazi

sort of surprised with a snowy winter, that usually gets rid of the riff raff. they go to the shelter until spring.

Rule of life: Never leave free rent. In this case, the state sent him on a multi year vacation, against his wishes.

[doublesharp]

You got em by the short hairs. Almost retired and a fat imminent domain check on the horizon. I see a gentleman's farm in Paris, Danville, Harrodsburg......

[rburg]

You're not cheap enough to move to Harrodsburg. Joe and McClellan live there. Those guys reuse envelopes. The money they give up, if you can get them to, has been wrung out so many times it almost falls apart.

Had they offered me a fat check, they'd be building a fire house here.