Good-Bye to the Old Neighborhood

When I was growing up, in the fabled ‘50s, our neighborhood was full of big families—five or more children—including ours. There must have been at least 50 children in a one-block area, so anytime I stepped outside, I was sure to see kids on the streets riding bikes or in the fields behind our houses playing catch or hide-and-seek. Not only did all the children play with each other, the parents partied together on Saturday nights in basement bars.

Although that world is long gone, I still find myself surprised at the fast pace of change. Or maybe it’s that I choose to remain oblivious until something smacks me in the head, like overhearing a comment from the realtor showing the house next door—a comment that reveals I’m older than I want to think.  

When a friend and I moved into our subdivision, some 25 years ago, we were among the younger people. On either side of us were older couples, maybe in their 60s, while we were in our late 40s. Gradually younger families started moving in, but there was still a balance between the older residents—who raised their children here and formed a community—and the new ones with young children.

From my first neighbors, Violet and Ted, I learned how the subdivision was constructed (in five different stages) and about past battles with the county over roads and taxes. Enthusiastic and tireless gardeners, they also shared their love of gardening with me.  On this arid hill, over a more than 40-year time period, they had created a lush, terraced garden, with a huge assortment of trees, bushes and flowers that they tended to almost daily in the growing season. From conversations over the back fence, I learned what grew well here, when to plant fall bulbs, how to prevent crabapple blight and when to safely plant in the spring.

But then Ted died, and Violet, as she grew older, was less able to manage the whole yard herself. Weeds started poking up among the bushes and flower beds. I wasn’t surprised when she finally decided she couldn’t handle such a big house and yard by herself and moved in with her daughter. But I still miss our backyard conversations, especially since the new and younger residents weren’t much interested in neighbor-to-neighbor chats and less interested in the state of gardening.

Before they moved in, they modernized the house—replacing Violet and Ted’s colonial style furniture and dark wood paneling with minimalist furniture, white walls and bigger windows to let in more light. In contrast, our house is crammed with books, records, art objects and other things—the accumulations of more than 50 years of living. When I saw the interior of their house, I started feeling the weight of my years and envied them their lightness, unburdened by their possessions.

Just last week, Violet and Ted’s house went up for sale again, and a steady stream of young couples have come by to check it out. Several days ago, sitting on my back porch, I overheard a realtor standing in the back yard next door telling her clients that the bad thing about not having an HOA in the neighborhood was that people could do whatever they wanted with their property. Facing our backyard, she said didn’t know if the “neighbor,” presumably us, either liked their privacy or maybe they were elderly and had stopped taking care of their property.

I was a bit stunned—first, at someone’s judgment of our yard as messy and out of control. While the central parts of the yard conform to the rest of the neighborhood’s Kentucky bluegrass format, I’ve deliberately left the outer edges of the yard unmanaged to create a small wildlife sanctuary, so insects and other small creatures, like birds and squirrels, can thrive among the tall grasses and bushes.

But what hurt was the blanket assertion about the elderly, as if I were becoming too feeble, like Violet, to keep up the yard—and the house. Neither my house nor my yard is minimalist; they are both full of life—nature thriving outside and a rich interior life inside. Neither inside or outside would pass muster with younger people or those who think life should be clean and orderly.

Hopefully, that doesn’t mean I’m becoming the old person who isn’t keeping up with the rest of the neighborhood. It’s hard to know, because I’ve been living here all these years, while the world has changed around me. And there doesn’t seem to be any way to prevent that.

I try to be hopeful. Maybe the new people who buy the house will want to know the type of tree that forms a border between our property or what kind of bushes will attract butterflies. But I’m not holding my breath.

–Kathy Kaiser

4 thoughts on “Good-Bye to the Old Neighborhood

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  1. Dear Kathy, I feel as if we grew up in the same neighborhood, then moved into the same neighborhood at 40 years of age.
    I have always loved yards that were established years before I thought of owning a home. Give me a few shade trees, flowers that volunteer back every year and a spot to test my gardening skills.
    The young ones can have the houses in the development where every fourth house looks the same. Let them pay that crazy HOA and fight with the board when they want to change the color of their front door or build a storage shed outback. Oh and good luck with them having privacy. When their neighbor sneezes they will here it.
    I would address that the yards are hardly large enough for the kids to throw a ball. Sadly I rarely see a child outside in those $500,000+ houses. You could not give me one.
    I would not take a million dollars for playing in the alley, riding my bike blocks away from home and never once worried about someone attacking me. The only worry I had was being late coming in the house. Lordy knows the penalty was awful. I could not play outside the next day!
    Now here I sit in my old home surrounded with beautiful trees, flowers and a weed or two. There are a few of us oldies left on the block. The rest are younger with children. I say this because I have seen them get in and out of the car. I would love to introduce myself, but no one comes out except to cut the grass. It is really alright because I love my old simple life!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. This post really hit home to me. I grew up on a little farm. We were isolated but we kids found each other and had adventures. Now I live far away from there. We are the oldest couple in our neighborhood. Many of my neighbors are middle aged with kids gone and now leaving. The huge area behind me is finally full of new houses. I met my closest neighbor in the new area yesterday. They understand how I feel because they had just left their old neighborhood as it was being developed. The little barn I built in my back yard, for which I was so proud, now looks ugly as it stands next to the new houses. I rarely see kids out anymore. I never see them throwing a fresbie or playing baseball. Sometimes I see them riding a skateboard. But no matter at all. At 72, it won’t be long before I’ll be leaving. I’m ready to meet the Saints.


      1. Frank, I hear you. Most kids seem to stay inside all day on their computers. They don’t know what it’s like to play on their own outside, like making up your own games or exploring the neighborhood.

        Liked by 1 person

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