A distant memory, now… but it sure does explain why I have always favored living on busy roads, with wide spread-out properties, allowing for Privacy and the opportunity to say, “I saw NOTHING!
My street may as well be named, “Drama” Drive, … maybe, “Wrong” Road, … how ’bout, “Tell ‘er off ” Tnpk, …hmmm – “Beeyotch” Blvd?…wait! “REAL TREAT” Street? Maybe…”Lighten Up” Lane! Or finally, “Hit The” Hwy!
We had the Cartwrights on one side and the McCoys on the other. I’d become the official Marshal of the neighborhood, … thus, our house was referred to as “The Marshall’s Office.”
What’s scary is, fire arms are legal here as are the fireworks, but these three houses that surrounded us created enough sparks without a purchase! Oh! I think I forgot one! “WTF?” FREEWAY!
I had never seen so much unnecessary drama in my lifetime, as I had, since moving in. What made it difficult, was that they were all very nice people, with very good points! It just seemed there were 3 or more sides to each story, and no one was allowing each other to Talk! It seemed that this has been an on going dilema for the past 12 years, and my moving in, had sort of stirred the cul-de-sac pot! Why? Because they all felt they could talk to me, share their stories of war casualties, and expected me to remain a bipartisan supporter!
So let me get this straight-… I was the NEW girl- and figuratively, I was given the KEYS to the “Old Jalopy,” that held all the gossip and war stories in the trunk.
First of all, even if this old Jalopy had a New GPS- there’d be no getting around this. There is a ‘Pink Elephant’ in each and every living room in this Old West neighborhood! So I did what I knew everyone secretly hoped I’d do: I told each of them the other’s Shit! I just know how to do it, diplomatically!
I made each one of them want to know more. I also turned and twisted and rearranged the furniture a bit, in each one’s living room, so that pink elephant would have a bit more breathing space. I made each one look at the other’s point of view, without letting them know that I’d even talked with the enemy!
After all was said and done, and all 13 kids and 8 adults had had enough of walking on egg shells- I did the final lap of the neighborhood. Visited all homes, spoke my piece, prayed to God that none had seen me walk in and out of the other’s house- and then I went home. What did my husband do? He shook his head. You HAVE to know, how much I hate that. I threw my hands up in the air at that point, and said, “WHAT!!” With that, I went upstairs, got ready for bed and proceeded to lose my voice.
Yes, … looking back I can blame it on the Smoke from the Distant Fire of this, Gunsmoke –like neighborhood, with all the negotiating I’d done, I wound up sounding like a sick frog on the air that Friday. That was the bad news; nothing’s worse than listening to a jock struggling while on the air. …but the GOOD news was, the neighborhood had holstered their weapons! They’d met, they’d all agreed to disagree, but it became amicable! “Forgiveness Fairground!’ It was the closest they’d come to amnesty, in 12 years. I remember thinking, “My work is done here. I need to go polish my badge. Spit-shine, spit-shine. The Marshall’s Office is now Closed.”
That was the first week we moved in. You can only imagine…