I was on the phone talking to a mortgage lender and about to head out the door when the doorbell rang. Peering out the sidebar of my front door, I saw 2 individuals. A well dressed lady was on the stoop and an elderly gentleman leaned against the brick wall that framed my entryway. When I opened the door, the lady said, "We brought you your mail, it was delivered to my parents' mailbox...and my father would like to meet you."
I looked at the elderly gentleman, my neighbor... whom I was meeting for the first time. He smiled and tried to extend his hand from the wall; but he clearly needed it for support. I could see that bracing himself with the cane required considerable effort. I patted him on the arm and smiled; thanking him for delivering our mail. Then he repeated his statement again..."I wanted to Welcome you to the Neighborhood. You see, I don't get out much any more, but I wanted to make sure you got this piece of mail. I live down the street on the same side as you do."
It was an odd moment...gratitude and surprise mixed with more questions and a little hesitation. I was aware that there was a party on the phone listening to this exchange and knew I didn't have the time to invite him in, but in an odd way I felt the exchange though brief was significant. He had decided to make a personal delivery rather than simply giving the properly addressed letter back to the mailman.
You see, our family is the first of its kind in this neighborhood. We are African Americans in a Lily white community. It's an elegant setting with nicely coutoured homes, many of which were parade homes a decade ago. Our home was built on one of the last remaining lots. Over the past three years, we have met several of the neighbors around us and were invited to an evening dessert with one couple. The gentleman admitted that he wanted to "see what kind of people we were." It was very interesting evening to say the least. At the end he indicated that he just knew..."we were different." I didn't ask him to elaborate!
But the people further down the street have remained a shrouded mystery. I have come to understand that most individuals in my neighborhood are retired business owners. Their names sometimes mentioned from time to time within the context of small chit chat. But in this neighborhood, neighbors don't frequently walk up the street to simply say hello. Most of these grand homes harbor their inhabitants in quiet solitude...broken occasionally by the visit of an adult child or grand children. I know these are good hard working people, but sometimes it seems that our homes have become a shield instead of a welcoming shelter.
I am at once humbled that this gentlemen took the time to deliver the letter himself with great personal effort. But I also wonder what prompted the welcome after I had lived in the neighborhood for over three years! Did it take three years to carefully access how we would maintain our home? Then again, I must ask myself...why have I not walked down my street and knocked on his door? What are we all waiting for?
As we prepare to cross the threshold of another remembrance of the day that changed America forever, September 11, 2001...the issues concerning what it means to be a good neighbor invariably become a focus on the screen of our national conscience. This 6 Year Remembrance is also framed within the context of the observation of the 2 year anniversary of the catastrophe of Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans. Two years later...abandoned homes, vacant lots and dashed hopes and dreams still litter the landscape of sections of the 9th Ward that was once a thriving community. Six years after September 11, 2001 Americans struggle with nagging fear and distrust; we're still wrestling with the implications of accepting individuals who subscribe to a different faith into our homes and communities.
In some ways, the veneer of prosperity has become a gilded cage which masks a disheartening deterioration in relations between human beings. We are slowly forgetting what it means to be good neighbors. Has the race to amass more and better obscured the value of ascribing proper value to what is real and enduring? Unfortunately, we seem determined to lurch from tragedy to tragedy without arriving at a clear consensus. This is not the most prudent way. Perhaps, on this anniversary of 911, we can each determine to take one small courageous step. Perhaps, actions like those of the elderly gentleman who simply came to my door and extended a sincere, albeit delayed "Welcome," will do more to heal the hearts and souls of our nation and mend deep wounds of suspicion than any laws or alerts from the department of Homeland Security can ever hope to.
Copyright 2007 Audu Real Estate All Rights Reserved
Lola Audu, is the Designated Broker & Owner of Audu Real Estate. Our company specializes in helping people buy and sell homes in the greater Grand Rapids, West Michigan area. We've had the privilege of helping hundreds of clients succeed in their goals of purchasing and selling property including demonstrated success in the negotiation of Short Sale Transactions. You can contact us via e-mail @ info@auduhomes.com or by phone at 616-791-0511.
Once again, Lola, such an eloquent post, both in words and meaning!
It does often take disasters or shared tragedy to bring people together.
When we lived in very rural Tennessee, life was different. Shortly after we moved in, some neighbors stopped one night to wish us a Happy Birthday, whichever of us had the birthday. We were confused, since none of us was having a birthday. It seems they had seen the candles of our candlelight dinner inside the house, and thought it was a birthday.
Lola- What a well written and eloquent post. Again, I must say that you are a fantastic writer. I have lived in most places or at least visited most places in the world. I have been a part of many different cultures. I love learning about people, their customs and their cultures. We are all different irregardless of the color of our skin, no one is supposed to be the same. That would make for a very boring world. My first year of high school I lived in Menlo Park and was bussed to Palo Alto. I, along with 30 other Caucasians were the only ones in a school of 800 kids. Not only were we freshmen, we were also different. I took Swahili as my foreign language. I don't remember a word of it now. That was in California in early 70's.
I will tell you that the most diversified place besides here in South Florida that I have lived was Hawaii. And also the most wonderful place I have lived. I am at home with diversity.
As far as neighbors go, we live in a very friendly neighborhood, we know each other, we help each other, we talk to each other. I love our neighborhood. IF I ever need anything I know I can count on my neighbors. Katerina
Hi Sally, Thanks for stopping by to visit and share some insights. Although it is changing, Grand Rapids has been the most homogeneous community that I have ever lived in. The area was originally settled by Dutch settlers. I remember coming into an auditorium when I first came to this country in the early 80's and gasping...I had NEVER seen so much blond hair in my entire life! :)
Diversity initiatives are underway in a number of different capacities. There is a palpable realisation amongst many that this is an area in which there is a vital need to improve our relationships and embrace others who are different in race, nationality, religion, national origin, handicapped status, sexual orientation, familial status...in fact, all the areas that Realtors ® strive to uphold professionally in serving consumers.
Lola, I can't imagine you not fitting in anywhere. You're right. You should have broken the ice long ago. Who knows what (or who) you missed. Very nice post.
Bill Roberts
Hi Katerina, I really enjoyed reading your comments and your experiences with diversity in your life. Sally Cheeseman also talked about Hawaii being a very diverse place. And we all love to go there...perhaps that is one of the reasons why Hawaii is beautiful in a number of different ways. It sounds like you have had a rich life experience and I know that this creates value for the people you serve. It's also a special gift to live in a community in which the spirit of sharing and cooperation is so alive and well amongst neighbors. You are blessed. :)
Lola - Once again you have shared a glimpse into the soul of a beautiful woman and a beautiful person.
The concept of true neighbors has long since passed with the necessity of working parents, latch key kids, material possessions and the trappings of success. We, by and large, have become a self absorbed society and fearful of familiarization with others.
The days of front porch visiting, back fence chatting and neighbor helping neighbor is pretty much one of those points in stories of "days gone by" and that is a sad, sad, sad commentary on life.
If we were all better neighbors there would be less need for governmental intervention into the practices of protection, defense and punishment. We would be more in tune with what goes on in our neighborhoods, who lives next door or down the street, we would know the names of the kids in the area and where they go to school. We would, in short, look out for each other - not avoid each other.
Thanks again for such a thought provoking post.
**That photo of you in the doorway is just wonderful! You should frame it!
Lola - If they don't come to you - you go to them.
Everyone is so hesitant and just do some kind of dance around each other - if someone doesn't appreciate me because I'm a blond white woman from MN then they don't. After they get to know me, they may just change their opinion or not.
Lola, when my band (all very white, despite having a lead singer named Tyrone!) was on tour, we would sometimes go to church on Sunday in the city we happened to be in. We would pick the church, of course, by whichever one started latest. That way we could try and recover from last night's concert.
Once we decided to attend a baptist church in downtown Louisville, KY. It became evident as we approached the place that we were likely to be the only white guys.
Add to that...it was Easter! In that community, the people dressed up for church and ESPECIALLY on Easter. All the women had their finest hats, the men in their finest suits, shoes shined.
Here we were, four poor white rock and rollers in jeans and tee shirts.
The service lasted about 3 hours.
And it was awesome.
Your story of being in a 'lily white' town reminded me of that story...it's a great memory.