rendezvous with the neighbors

It was just the female neighbors, actually. We were to meet last night for a candle exchange Christmas party. I own one of 20 houses on the park. My house, on one end of the row of 20, is the smallest; the party was held on the other end, at the largest. Its living room had the square footage of my entire house, and easily seated 20 women.

I tried to act nonchalant, but the idea of socializing amongst neighbors is unnerving to me. The question is, do I fit in? A counselor I was seeing a few years ago suggested that I was seeking somewhere to belong, and heaven knows I have put a tremendous amount of time into assessing which neighborhood I really wanted to live (belong) in.

This neighborhood comprises retirees to a large extent. There's a simple reason for that: the houses were built in the late 1950's/early 1960's, and these people bought the houses to raise their families in. They've stayed, enjoying the park location, and now they're in their 70's, 80's and 90's. My particular house has experienced more turnover- I'm its 4th owner, I think.

This neighborhood differs from the upstate NY neighborhood I grew up in. This one is more affluent and conservative. Everybody here understands the rules and abides by them, thank you very much. It's a rather uptight-looking place, with well-manicured lawns and not a wayward leaf in sight (heaven forbid).

Where I grew up it was more relaxed, more diverse. There were varied ethnic backgrounds, and the cooking smells emanating from each house reflected that. People sat outside on their front porches, unafraid to be seen idle, blatantly watching their neighbors. My best friend and I would run to the seedy bar a few blocks away to beseech her Polish father to come home. There was a bachelor, pipe-smoking Floyd, who didn't drive or speak to anyone, and a widow, Mrs. Sweet, who, true to her name, passed out candy to neighborhood children. The older couple in the house across the street never came out of the house for any reason, and we never knew how they obtained food. The Wilsons stood out because they grew tulips- few in this working class neighborhood could afford to bother with flowers. The Jaworskis were unkempt, their house neglected, abandoned cars cluttering their yard. There were real characters living on my street.

No wonder I crave the diverse, high energy downtown neighborhood which I'm always talking about moving to. It reminds me of my roots. I'm homesick.

The neighborhood I now live in is milktoast, devoid of color or personality. The party was somewhat dull, as expected given the neighjborhood we live in. I did connect with 5 or 6 women, and enjoyed that. To that extent, I did fit in. I did not find it necessary to be uptight or judgemental during the party; therefore, I was not self-conscious. For me, this is progress.

Although I live near these women, we live in a suburban type area, much to my dismay, so we rarely, if ever, interact. We all go directly into our houses from our cars via attached garages. There are no sidewalks here- walking is discouraged and dangerous. Odd as it seems, I did not even recognize most of these neighbors at the party, and I've lived here 7 years! Although the question of fitting in is always in the back of my mind, if only subconsciuosly, I was not really sure that this was the group I wanted to fit with. I see myself as being more free spirited and colorful.

One older woman who'd had one glass too many of the red wine was treating me like a daughter, beckoning me over to sit next to her (she orchestrated a complete overhaul of the seating arrangement to pull this off) and then she rested her hand on my leg as she held court. She was the most lively of the bunch, I'd say, as I recall the way she kept bursting into gales of laughter for no known reason.

Before the candle exchange began, one woman suddenly popped out of her chair with shocking enthusiasm, waving a clipboard above her head, shouting, "LADIES!!! LADIES!!!!! May I have your attention PLEASE!!!!"

It turned out that she'd had a brainstorm and wanted to start a neighborhood euchre group. All my life I have hated cards, probably because my parents belonged to a card club and I dreaded their raucous parties at our house. Anyway, she passed around the clipboard for people to sign up. I passed. Hmmmm...maybe I don't belong.....

Finally we got down to the point of the evening: the candle exchange. We were supposed to be able to "steal" a candle someone else had chosen if we liked it, but we were all too wimpy to steal, being representatives of this righteous neighborhood. It turned out that I happened to choose the candle brought by the overly friendly wine drinker who had demanded that I sit with her. (She was thrilled that I was her candle's recipient.)As you can see, it is a cinnamon colored/sented candle inside a silver and gold box wrapped with a red bow. At first glance, I determined that it was not my cup of tea, and I'd re-gift it. (I am a product of the above-described upstate NY neighborhood.) After I got home, however, I thought maybe I'd keep it as a souvenir of my "fitting-in fest."

Did I fit in? Well, I didn't stand out. That's a start.