I am convinced there is no such thing as neighbors in Orange County. There are just people who live next door to me — people who share the same space in the apartment community in which I live. Still, out of habit I call them neighbors. I don’t know why.
There are lots of interesting people here, but none of them want to get to know each other. There is the family of five living in a one bedroom two doors down. They all work at Disneyland, nice enough folks but tight-lipped to say the least. There is a nearly eight foot tall Asian dude who never smiles and never holds the door for women. There are the nice Middle Eastern fellows who have three, count them three, satellite-dishes on their patio. They really like TV.
There are also a couple of cute, well-groomed gay men that are my neighbors, or rather my gaybors (as Sara Silverman’s grandmother used to say). We see each other often, in fact one of them works at Whole Foods and my wife and I are usually in his checkout line - he acts like he has never met us before. We see him in the courtyard, in the parking garage and at the mailboxes. Funny thing, each time we see each other, he acts like he has never laid eyes on my wife or I. Each time I smile and nod and say “hello” and he just looks at me blankly (or not at all).
I have changed my mind; I don’t live in apartment community. I live in a complex. The idea of a community is lost on most of my “neighbors”. So, until a different wind starts to blow, we’ll all just live in solitude oblivious of one another.
Do you know your neighbors? If so, do you like them or loathe them? Or are you like me, with perpetual strangers living all around you?