Suburban Revolution

    So, Mel and I live in a great neighborhood in Macon. Our house is in the historic Vineville district. It is full of old houses that people fill with great, little families and loud dogs. We are happiest about the latter.  Everyone is fixing up their old houses and living as peaceably with one another as is possible. Nothing really happens...Well almost nothing. Sometimes, the places reminds me a little of the Tom Hank's movie from the 80's, The Burbs. If you haven't seen it, you should.

     The people that live directly in front of us have turned the heads of those who abide on our street before. But this time, it was too much for one particular neighbor to take. They, the neighbors in question, were always in trouble with my wife Mel, but that is a post for her blog. She held many things against them, but you would too if you knew them. Some of the things they did that earned them some looks were: they had a maid service, but no kids and the woman didn't have a job, they had a lawn service, but their yard was very small, they had several very loud parties, etc, etc, etc. And this is where the straw landed on the camel and broke its back.

  The yard service that they have comes at times that are only convenient for the yard service; like early Saturday mornings, or around eight when everyone is trying to go to work. They usually park in front of our driveway and Mel can't get out for work. Or sometimes they park in the middle of the street and people have to drive around them, but that is not the worst of it. Our neighborhood has a lot of trees and this is something Mel and I love. However, from November til January, there are a lot of leaves to rake and clean up. The yard service blows the leaves into yards that surround the house or into the street. This is where the story gets good...

  The family who lives right next to the house in question represents Middle GA well. They drive American cars, root for Georgia, the guy coaches baseball, their daughter has a double name, the wife wears jangly earrings and a visor, the boys play football in the yard, the dad's name is Tripp, etc. However, the other day something snapped and I am so glad I got to watch it all unfold from my front porch.

  The yard service came. They cleaned up the house nicely. They mowed. They planted new flowers. They trimmed. They edged. Then they blew all the red oak leaves into Tripp's yard and not into the street. Tripp had just cleaned up his yard the day prior. Tripp drove up. Looked at his yard. Saw the leaves. Yelled some angry words to our neighbor. Went inside. Had his wife examine the leaves in the yard. Shook his head. Went inside. Came back out wearing jeans, Nike's, a Panama hat, and a Che Guevara shirt. He then told our neighbor and his wife the plan. He swept all of the red oak leaves back into the other house's lawn in several very big piles. Shook his head. Had his wife see his work. Dusted his hands off. Smiled and went back inside. So...what is the lesson we can learn from all of this?

  Do not overestimate the quiet baseball coach who secretly has a Che t-shirt lying in his closet and isn't afraid to wear it and take action. Don't you forget it or it will cost you.

  David