Last week the weather in Sacramento was in the low 100’s. So, of course, I chose last week to take down a lengthy fence, overgrown with various trees and thorny shrubs on both sides, along two sides of my property. My father and I labored mightily – digging out concreted posts, sawing down tree limbs as thick as pythons, moving literally tons of wood, and in the end building a structure that vaguely resembled the wall that kept King Kong on his side of Skull Island in the old black and white movie.
I didn’t build the fence because I hate my neighbor. Admittedly, he is a ‘progressive’, as is virtually everyone else in my Curtis Park neighborhood, and I am conservative. We disagree on a number of political and cultural issues that we rarely discuss. I have a Bush sticker on my car. He has a sign in his window opposing the war (strangely, he also has an old poster of Darth Vader displayed in his garage. When I pointed out that Darth Vader was hardly representative of progressive values he gave me a look that could melt butter and said that James Earl Jones – the voice of Mr. Vader – got shafted financially. I let it go.).
All that being said, the fence was not built as some sort of rampart from which I could hurl insults or cabbages at him. It was built because I firmly believe that good fences make good neighbors. For instance, the fence makes sure my Staffordshire Terrier, Felony, doesn’t fertilize my neighbor’s flowers. The fence makes it very clear whose problem day to day issues are to deal with – like yesterday when a dead squirrel fell from one of our trees, hit the fence (hmmmm… I assume he was dead before he fell), and landed on my side. The rule: mine to deal with as I see fit, with no comment from the neighbor unless I invite him to the burial. I water the plants on my side, he does or does not water the plants on his side, and so on. And while the fence simply defines these responsibilities and rights, it doesn’t stop us from talking, from getting together when we see fit, or from making collective decisions on matters of mutual interest – like what to do about all the tree limbs I hacked off and left in the street in front of his house.
I live in a very old neighborhood for California. It was built 100 years ago or so. Thus, the back of my fence runs up against an alley. Like any alley, my alley appears to attract the people one would least like to run into in an alley. I always feel like opening the door into my alley, I am instantly transported into Five Points a hundred and fifty years ago. So my fence in that part of the property is intended as a barrier to protect my property and family from unsavory characters who might not be inclined to respect the sanctity of my property were the fence not there. Now, of course, the fence is not the Berlin Wall. Anyone not connected to an Iron Lung could get over or through it if I wasn’t standing right on the other side with a stick or a pot of hot coffee. But the fence makes forced entry more difficult, and makes a point that I will actively protect my land.
I’ve visited my neighbor on his side of the fence. When I’m on his property I respect his rules, even if they are unwritten or I disagree with them. And I try to be polite. For instance, when I visit him I don’t wear a giant cowboy hat that says "Bush Won, Liberals Zero" or ask him to change the radio station from NPR to Rush Limbaugh. I don’t take down his window sign against the war, nor do I bring a sign of my own supporting the war and while we are visiting place my sign in another of his windows. If another member of his family, many of whom live with or next to him, comes into the room with a family issue of some sort, I don’t make any comments, nor do I demand a seat at the table for any decision they might make. Obviously, parading around his house with an airhorn or silly string demanding I be allowed a voice in his family affairs would be way over the top, and would probably cost me a Christmas card. I can’t imagine opening his gate and walking into his backyard uninvited, even if he had a snowcone machine that I really, really wanted to use in his garage.
I was up late last night, so really couldn’t think of anything political to write this morning. So instead I thought I’d just write about my fence building adventure and some good old fashioned American beliefs and values. Good fences make good neighbors. Guests should be polite when they are visiting someone else’s home. It’s just common sense.
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