Dear Editor,
Our neighbours to the south have
changed. They’ve turned into that house on the street that has a lot of junk on the lawn with broken Christmas ornaments left up all year round. A source of dark rumours and wildly absurd gossip. Everyone on the street knows for a fact that someone has died in that creepy house under diabolical circumstances. The house wreaks of neglect and of a lost spirit. It’s a hostile place that kids stay away from and scoot by nervously. The house has been surrendered to time and circumstance. The owner is a mystery. Sadder than menacing but still a source of fear and mystery. It could use a coat of paint.
There are never any lights on inside. The mailbox is stuffed and overflowing. The lawn is overgrown. The garden is overrun with weeds with one flower peeking out through the mess as if to offer a shred of hope that someday somehow a renewed vitality might return to this once happy home - fingers crossed.
Rumour has it that for a time, way back when, a family lived there. Just run- of -the -mill folks that blended invisibly into the community. Kids, parents and pets and lemon aid stands and bicycles just left on the front lawn as a sign of trust that they would remain safe like the community at large. But something, somewhere, changed. Someone died and gutted that once happy home. People came and went and in doing so the community spirit drifted out of the windows and just a shell of its former self remains.
There’s a fear that simmers around this strange house. Is my house the odd house on the street? I hope not because I feel safe being a part of a thriving community. I do my best to live together with my neighbours. I put my Christmas lights up and take them down later than I should. In the fall, I put a pumpkin on my front stoop. I cut my grass and shovel the snow off my walk. I do these things because I want to but also out of basic respect for my community. These things give me a sense of belonging and a measure of safety. If, over time, I become insular and cut-off from my community I become a tad more vulnerable and alone. Our American neighbours have become that house strange unrecognizable house.
Paul Tedesco
Strathroy resident
