Hillbilly America: Not Quite Mister Rogers Neighborhood

Hillbilly America: Not Quite Mister Rogers Neighborhood

In July, we were blessed with new neighbors across the street. I knew instantly that this was going to be an adventure...multiple generations living in the same house, a pregnant teenager, her boyfriend, and a guy that drives up in a PT Cruiser who is so big he can't get out of his car.  When he comes to visit, he lays on the horn until someone from the family comes out and talks to him from the porch. Just a few signs that alerted me that these people couldn't move out fast enough.

It was the week of the 4th of July. In an attempt to endear themselves to the neighborhood, they set off fireworks every night for five straight nights - at 11:00 PM. As if the fireworks weren't loud enough, they talked to each other like they were on opposite coasts. I don't have a problem celebrating the holiday and enjoying fireworks, but five nights in a row?? When everyone else on the block is getting ready for bed because they have to work the next day??  

On the third night of the marathon fireworks extravaganza, I was absolutely livid. I really wanted to go across the street, insert a Roman Candle in their backsides, and light it with a blowtorch. I convinced myself that if it happened again the next night, I would nicely explain that my children were sleeping and my husband had to get up at 4:00 AM for work. Somehow, I had a sneaking suspicion that these were not reasonable people and they didn't care who they were bothering.

The next day, I witnessed something that changed my mind about approaching them altogether. They were all sitting on the front porch when I heard the mother and her young son arguing. Mama lovingly said, "Come on, Bubba. Take your medicine. I have sausage cooking, goshdarnit." (Only she used a similar, slightly more offensive word). Bubba laughed in Mama's face at her kind request. Mama shook her head and walked back into the house. When she returned to the porch, the rest of the family jumped on Bubba like a pack of angry wolves, and held him down while Mama gave him a shot. I have no idea what was in that syringe, but I do know that Bubba was very still and quiet for hours.  

Since then, I have kept my head down when I am outside, and I won't even glance in their general direction. I have absolutely no desire to interact with these folks in any way. There is plenty I would like to say to them as they are the epitome of a nuisance, but I don't want to end up like Bubba, sitting in a semi-vegetative state for hours, drooling on myself, and drinking pureed sausage through a straw.

So, until that glorious day when they move out of our neighborhood, I am sure that every day will bring new drama and entertainment. It's like having the Jerry Springer show right in our very own front yard, except there isn't a stripper pole and a chanting audience...yet.

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Written By Marci

Marci

Marci is a Licensed Behavior Specialist Consultant, along with a wife, mother of 2, problem solver extraordinaire, and (of course) part-time superhero.

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