The next door neighbor

I was outside doing things that should have probably been done during the day today, but due to pain it got put off. It was dark, thanks to it being winter, daylight savings, and all the other things that make us come inside earlier this time of year. I luckily have a nice solar light out in that part of the yard that does a very good job (possibly my favorite solar item I have). But there I was doing outdoor chores in the dark, and I was suddenly reminded of my grandparents neighbor.

These critters often get night chores because…rooster

As a child I remember there was this unspoken warning about the neighbor. For the sake of the story lets just call him Guy. It is possible that at some point in time someone told me to be careful around Guy. But it was not something said often, it was the look, or the feeling, you just were kind of careful around Guy. I do remember my Nana once asking me to return something to him, but not to go inside. It was a cautionary relationship so to speak.

What I knew about Guy was that he had been in the military. And in the quiet conversations had around the house I gathered that he was part of an experiment. Later in life I would come to find out that he was a part of a few experiments while in the military.

Guy lived with his mother. He had been married but I had never seen his wife. As I understood it, she left him, and their son, and was never seen from again. Guy’s son I don’t remember much about until he was suddenly there. It isn’t like he turned a certain age and came home. It wasn’t like he turned 18 and came to live with his dad. Or was 22 and back from college. It was more like he was 45 and suddenly standing on the sidewalk staring at the grass with his dad. Both with their hands half in their back pockets resting their backs on the heels and forearms.

I remember whispers about him at the kitchen table, or my Papa calling my Nana’s name in that tone that said “watch what you are saying” because she was gossiping or speaking to far out of turn. She often waited for him to leave the room and continue. Whispers were about what he would do all day. Or about the tale he had told about this or that. I remember learning he was on disability. I never knew him to work. I never knew him to leave for a job. But, Guy believed that the government was out to prove that he was able to work, and so he waited until dark to do things outside of his house.

As a kid I would see him trimming bushes when my dad and I would leave my grandparents’ house. He would nicely wave, say hi to my dad, maybe strike up a little conversation. My dad would get in the car, and I would ask what they talked about. Dad often said “Just Guy telling me his news.” I would later hear part of a tale, at the time they seemed like these intriguing stories. But I think that Guy may have worn tinfoil hats to keep the aliens from reading his mind.

I did not understand the extent to which Guy did his work at night until I was in grad school. For grad school I lived in my grandparents basement (which was really street level, but the two story house started a level up). I liked it down there for the most part because I essentially had everything I needed. Except if I wasn’t up when my grandparents went to church in the morning I probably would have died from exhaust fumes, as the garage was also down there…

Anyway. One night, I was lying in bed and I heard a noise outside. There had been a rash of car break ins, and an attempted house break in in the middle of the night. My Nana had just been telling me about it, and had come down to double check the locks and that I had locked the house up. (I always liked it when she also locked the basement door so that I was stuck down there with no way into the main floors of the house where the bathroom was. Luckily this only happened a few times and I always check the door after that before they actually fell asleep). I had all my lights off and was trying to fall asleep when I thought I heard footsteps outside my window.

My window sat about 12 inches off the actual ground outside on that side of the house. so the feet were right about where my window was. Then I thought I heard voices, whispered voices. I couldn’t figure out why anyone would be down the side of the house, and I started to listen for someone jumping the fence outside my room and into our backyard. I could hear these people walking back and forth in hard soled shoes. Who tries to break into a house in hard soled shoes. And then I heard other noises. I was sure that someone was going to break the window and get me.

Then I heard possibly the worst noise a child born int he 70s and raised on 80s scary movies could hear. It was the slow slashing sound….of a hand push mower. Guy and his son were out mowing their lawn at midnight. In hard soled shoes. Whispering about what outdoor chores needed to get done that night.

It wouldn’t be the last time I heard this. And I will say that startling awake to the sound of a hand push mower, shuuush…shuuush….shuush….is not fun! Other noises included the sound of the blades on big clippers. Or the use of a flashlight being walked back and forth past your window. The rake on the leaves and the concrete walkway.

For a while I was worried they would knock on my window or his son would try to peer in (an idea my Nana planted in my head). But over time I realized that they were just trying to keep up appearances and not get caught and have Guy’s disability check taken away.

Guy has since passed away. His son I am not sure. But I do know that their house has been sold, and flipped, and based upon the price of the sale, I would say that those people probably pay for a gardener to come during the day.