National Night Out #3

Smiley & Tired

A few evenings back we participated in our 3rd National Night Out event on our local block. The usual cast of oddballs was there again, about a dozen people in all. Most of our block has never shown up for the event, and their shades are drawn noticeably tighter on this evening.

Years past, our National Night Out has been painfully awkward, filled with long pauses in conversation, ill timed grievances over lawn maintenance, deli food from Cub, and talk centering around the devaluation of the neighborhood. We wash it all down with sugary lemonade. This year was no great exception, but slightly improved due to babies.

It was hosted this year, as is traditional, by the couple that has lived the longest on our block. For an amazing 49 years, Sandy and Clem have raised a family of 5 misfits in a tight but well kept duplex. How they had 7 people in half a duplex I have no idea. The place is small. The old man suffers from Parkinson’s, and so cannot get his words out much anymore. But he tries to hold conversation nevertheless, although he may as well be speaking Farsi. He’s used to the blank stares however, and just pats you on the back and keeps on rattling. He seems happy to have company in his front yard, but eventually everyone avoids him and he sits alone on a plastic lawn chair.

Sandy, the party hostess, greets you firmly and regretfully, like the woman who used to give you a Time Out at Sunday School.  She likes her blue slacks pulled up to just beneath her lungs, and her light denim blouse tucked in tightly. She has worn this outfit for the past three years of NNOs. I am guessing that it’s her Tuesday outfit. She purchased new bifocals in 1982, and apparently they are holding up fine.

We walked down the block and joined this small crowd on the front lawn. Most folks are in their 60s. The old guy with the yippity white poodle and his wife working at making conversation with the widow. The widow, who lives in a brick house on the corner, has on a torpedo bra and her “mom jeans” are hiked up parallel with her elbows. She stares at everyone from a couple miles away. She tries to distance herself from her grandson, a slow kid who plays video games in her basement. It took us a couple years to link these two together. We see her grandson drive his remote control cars down the block from time to time.

As we arrive, a new couple, neighbors to yippity dog guy, walk over with creamy jello salad and the crowd attains a quorum. This new couple has lived on the block for 18 years and we have never seen them before. Incredible, as we are outside every single evening. With their arrival people start into the small buffet of food (all salads – chicken pasta, jello, tri colored pasta with vinagrette, green leaf with broccoli, some brown stuff, potato with egg). The new guy jovially asks the group how everyone is doing. Yippity poodle guy digs straight in and says, “well, we’d be better if you mowed your lawn a little more often.” New guy stares at him, and stammers something about liking it long. Yippity dog guy follows that up with “where do you go at 3am every morning, anyway?” Somebody mentions something about the salads. It’s National Night Out!

This year we had a crutch: little MW2 diffused all crotchety conversation. We set her down on a blanket in the front yard and let everyone look at her. It’s hard to complain about the length of your neighbor’s grass when there’s a baby in the crowd. It shows poor taste, and most folks abide by this unwritten rule.

There was also another child there this year. We keep in touch with the only other young couple on our block, Adam and Julie, and they too have recently had a child. They are friendly, normal people and we have met them once for a backyard BBQ. Typically at NNO we end up talking to them for most of the evening, and we’re very glad they’re there. Julie actually called us this year to make sure we were coming.

Eventually the cops show up, just as the party wanes.  Last year we had the volunteer firemen show up as well. This year it was a lone female officer in an angry looking Dodge. This gave the crowd something to talk about for awhile, other than the babies. Officer Darcy is one of only 4 women on the local force. She works the night shift. She was nice and tough, but even she felt awkward at our little get-together. She stands at the head of the table, unable to think of anything to say to our little group of goofballs.

The slow kid has cornered Adam by this point, and they are talking about video games. Julie has headed homeward to put her little boy to bed. We see our exit and we make it. It’s time to feed MW2. We bid them all good night. It’s amazing to think it will be another year before we see most of these people. It’s incredible that it takes a nationally organized event to get to know your neighbors. I guess we live in a keep-to-yourself neighborhood. Or perhaps these are keep-to-yourself times.  Or, it’s just that quiet in our neighborhood. I don’t know which. All things considered, it could be worse.

As with everyone else on our block, we are happy to return home after another National Night Out. We close the shades, turn on the yard light, and settle in for the evening.