Diary of a Middle-aged Woman

03/15/07 - Graduates of Hillbilly U

Have I told you about our neighbors? If not, then there is no better time to do it than now. By the time you finish reading this, you may appreciate your own neighbors more.

First I should say that we had wonderful neighbors for over ten years. They were an elderly couple who took great care of their home and yard. They had pride of ownership for their property. Unfortunately the wife died and the husband decided not to live there on his own. He sold the home and is now living in a retirement community with his brother. We miss the both of them.

The home was sold at a bargain price to a younger couple with a first grade boy and big black dog. We should have known they were going to be a problem when we first met them and the boy immediately started climbing our Japanese Red Maple tree and the mother yelled at him and slapped him. He slapped back, and kicked too. However the couple seemed friendly enough. It wasn't until they moved in that we realized what we had on our hands - a batch of 'hillbillies'.

Whenever we would step-out our back door, the husband, Mr. Hillbilly, would appear out of nowhere and start talking. All we were trying to do is something simple like taking out the trash. But it ended-up being a two hour trip to the garbage can thanks to Mr. Hillbilly's never-ending yakking. It got so bad that we would peek-out our back door to see if the coast was clear before stepping foot on the back porch. We would even leave through the garage, just to avoid him. It's not that we are anti-social, or un-neighborly, it's just who has two hours to take out the trash?

Our next hint came when lawn mowers in different state of repair, or ruin, we aren't sure which, were placed by the curb with a hand painted sign that read "For Sale". Our street doesn't see a lot of through traffic, so, we found this to be puzzling. Why would you put them outside of your house when not a lot of traffic goes by?

Next, the heat of the summer came and with that, the unsold lawn mowers were put in the backyard and a table was set-up by the curb. The next "items" for sale were cantaloupes - two for a dollar, and corn on the cob. A big mound of cantaloupes and corn was stacked by the table and Mrs. Hillbilly sat there all day, hoping the few cars that went by would stop and buy her cantaloupes and corn.

Well, summer soon turned to autumn, and with that, the unsold cantaloupes and ears of corn were piled into the yard and the table was removed. Kerosene heaters were now placed by the "For Sale" sign. They were lined up neatly. As you can imagine, these too went unsold. They now reside in, you guessed it - the backyard.

Before we knew it the holiday season came and went. However, Christmas is still in our hearts, and apparently still on the Hillbilly Calendar since the lights are still-up and the used tree is thrown in the backyard. During the Valentine's Day snowstorm, they graciously turned on their Christmas lights for the neighborhood to enjoy. Not that our hillbillies had a great display of lights. No, they just had a few strung around their front door with the trail of lights leading to the hand rail of their porch. I think Martha Stewart would have a problem with their execution of lights.

Spring is almost upon us and somehow a pile of tires is now among the lawn mowers, dead grass (from the rotting corn and cantaloupes), and kerosene heaters. Heck, a pile of tires is exactly what their yard was missing. Every yard needs a pile of tires. The once carefully manicured lawn is now a mud-pit since the hillbillies decided to rip-up the shrubberies and allow their dog to run loose. The dog is doing its part by fertilizing the mud, hoping for grass to grow, I guess. There are neat piles of 'manure' peppered throughout the yard. In fact, I have already witnessed the dog at work while looking out my window as I did dishes. I used to see birds, or butterflies flutter past, now I see a dog in the act of 'fertilizing'.

Mr. Hillbilly is a man of many talents - a true Renaissance Man. Why he even makes his own wine. I was the recipient of one of his concoctions - homemade apple wine. (Did I mention that apples were for sale during autumn too?) I tried to drink a glass, but I guess I'm just not used to Homemade Hillbilly Wine. I couldn't get the mental image of him stomping the apples with his bare feet out of my mind. I imagined the wine had a stinky feet bouquet. It wasn't palatable, not even with a big chunk of cheese. Instead of 'down the hatch', it went 'down the drain'.

This spring there is a new addition to the hillbilly family. "Tater", as we call the first grader, now has a little brother whom we call "Tater Tot". (I'm not sure why we started using these names.) We can't wait until Tater Tot is old enough to start climbing our tree with Tater.

I could go on and on. I haven't told you how the 'stink bugs' and horse flies are at swarm-level since our hillbillies moved next door. Or how the dog has rushed at us as if to attack whenever we return to our home. Or how cooking on our grill, a once enjoyable experience, is now marred because Mr. Hillbilly stands there with his motor-mouth talking our ears off. Since they've moved next door we have seen such sights as nine months pregnant Mrs. Hillbilly mowing what's left of their lawn, while Mr. Hillbilly tinkered with, yet another, lawn mower, kerosene heater, or other such gadget.

It is time to buy a tall, privacy fence. Granted, I will miss such sights as Tater scooping poop and throwing it at the dog. Or Mr. Hillbilly, all 130 lbs of him, taking a dip in the half-inflated pool. Yes, it is an educational experience, having hillbillies as our neighbors. However, I believe we have learned enough. We are now graduates of Hillbilly U.