Nosy neighbor

That’s me. I am not writing about someone else. You see, the man who was about to move in across the street has died. I was told.

All the frantic buildout, renovating and refashioning.

If we were Amish, he and I and the whole village would have chipped in (barn-raise).

As it turns out, I have never (can’t now, at least not yet) met him. Mostly I saw contractors coming and going. One group after another; the roofing guys, the lawn guys seen through my window.

Now his porch lights are always on, 24/7. Like an eternal flame for his wake.

Was he privileged to the timing of his departure? Or his, a sudden death? From the prep work, I wouldn’t think he did. Perhaps it’s better that way.

I in fact feel for him. More than being curious. Fate of Fellow human: working and breathing, stressed out and burned out. To finally build a “fort”, surrounded with soil and shrubs to mark and protect One’s space. One’s privacy. One’s history.

Gone. In a puff.

We are our past (that bleeds to the present, claiming more and more territory and time each day).

Past as prologue. It’s as if sports fans had left the stadium, knowing with some certainty the final score and outcome of the game, despite last attempt at Hail-Mary pass by the losing team. Our past got momentum, critical mass and velocity. Train on its track.

It takes over. Can’t reverse it. It’s there in the Cloud. Facebook and Linkedin.

It begins with our birth certificate and ends with our death certificate.

Some folks travel and leave home with a prepared will. Others reside to the comfy chair, bitching at his son-in-law (Rob Reiner of the world). Meanwhile, Our “superhero” cashes out his brand equity with NFT cards.

I have never met my new neighbor. I am not nosy. Just regret we had never met. To exchange barbs, to rant about the weather, about inflation, interest rates.

It’s Christmas. And it looks awfully lonely to see the porch light on. With no one living in that house: newly minted, deck dusted , rail untouched and lamp ever -shone.

Meanwhile, in my household. kids chit-chat over TikTok, telling each other jokes e.g. “how do you fit an elephant into a fridge”….

In the vein of ever shining I would put on “Evergreen” by Streisand.

In the hope that, if the past is prologue, then the present is prologue to love, a love that transcends space and time. Hollywood makes money by hyping up violence and sex. If forced choice, I’d take Woodstock over War, And I do hope my neighbor had some of it (love) for the journey of his going. I sure can use extra serving just as I have basked in the light of his porch lamp.