Anybody who has lived near downtown Athens for some time knows that moving into a cool place in this town can be a gamble. Your neighbors can be old, drunks, townies, musicians, hookers, a family of 4, or worst of all Republican, and all of that packaged in a random assortment of ethnic backgrounds that would rival the UN. That is why I love this town! Statistically, you should never be bored when living in Athens since even with the most vanilla of neighborhoods will have some drama, outside of an upperclass subdivision. This is what I hoped at least moving from downtown to the house Bruno and I now live in.
My original place was on Cleveland Ave., off of Pulaski St. for 5 years. I saw crack-heads and trannie hookers from day one, and became friends with many a strange character while checking my mail. Do any of you know the deaf homeless lady who supposedly had a baby a few years ago and is caring for it under the North Avenue bridge? She used to stop by my old house and "chat" giving me a hug and never asked for money-which is why I liked her. When I saw her downtown, there was a $3 association fee for that hug, but it's worth it to put a smile on my face. Bruno had been getting a hug or 2 from association with me, but we haven't seen her in a year. Hope she's OK, no matter if she was pulling our leg.
Anyway, I'm used to crazy neighbor stuff and moving away to Whitehead off Jefferson Rd., I was going to miss it. Owning your own home makes up for the pain of losing a low rent in-town home, but you can only handle so much drama, like the pregnant hooker walking up the driveway and asking your friends for a beer during a Superbowl Party (which we nicely said no to) or having "Cornbread" one of the old school local homeless guys serenade you with "Billie Jean" after giving him a sandwich (rest in peace man, I heard you passed away). The old neighborhood changed over the course of 5 years but leaving the gentrifying New Town a year ago, it seemed I was destined for what I thought would be ordinary. I realize now that certain parts of the West side are anything but.
I first spotted my new home on Whitehead Road one day while surveying the Upper Oconee Watershed Network's Turkey Creek water quality sampling site for River Rendezvous. I had decided it was time to go from renter to owner since the upcoming Chico/Bruno housing merger would mean a combination of 3 dogs, a cat, a broke down VW, and a ton of fish that no sane landlord would allow without a hefty security deposit. This house was built in the 30s and stood out from the surrounding ranch style homes typical of the West-side. It was a1500 sq. ft 3 bdrm Georgian style cottage with a new metal roof and four fireplaces on a totally fenced 3/4 of an acre plot. I instantly fell in love with it (and the yard was perfect for 3 dogs) and realized this place was too good to let go, especially for the price. After the whole mortgage dance, I became the new owner of a house on the West-side. Years ago, I delivered pizzas in the area for the Prince Ave Pizza Hut so I knew the neighborhood and loved the fact that I could be downtown in 10 minutes or hit I-85 the other way in 20.
The great move-in had my new yard looking like a thrift store with non-matching furniture splayed across the lawn and my poor 3 wheeled lawnmower sitting prominantly in front. My friends who helped me move giggled as people stopped by and asked me how much I was asking for my stuff (folks thought it was a yard sale). After Bruno scurried into the new place to drag me back out and get rid of this lady wanting to buy that lawnmower, I knew this place was colorful enough to feel like home in no time (I should have sold it to her). This was confirmed when I met one of the new neighbors.
Now, on one side of my new place lives this nice quiet retired couple who are so cute with visiting grandkids and a workshop in the backyard that would make Bob Villa envious. On the other side however is Rick, the ultimate scary neighbor who terrifies every single friend that spots him outside his place. He is a greasy, lanky guy with old burns on one side of his body and a bad leg he drags behind him, and I assumed he was absolutly insane. The first day we moved in, he came over and Bruno sent him straight to me under the guise that he couldn't understand what Rick was saying. To give Bruno credit, I grew up in Dublin, GA and Rick had an accent that would rival Boomhauer from "King of the Hill." Needless to say, I understood him effortlessly. He introduced himself and offered his service as a shadetree mechanic and gardner (specifically grass-cutter). While slightly terrified, I said no thanks, but even today he offers to cut it at monthly intervals. He's hit us up for beer on Sundays, and a cell phone from time to time, but he's actually a good neighbor. Anytime we have a party, he offers his yard for people to park, and I never says anything about the noise. He seems OK, it's just hard to get over that first impression when you see him.
One really strange thing about Rick is that he also sells stuff on the side of the road in front of his house. There has been baby strollers, rims, engine cranes, various lawn cutting devices, and just the other day he was walking towards home with an indoor security system complete with a monitor and several security cameras wrapped around his neck (Bruno and I had to laugh at the irony). A lot of stuff he gets comes from people trying to pay him for car repairs (I think), which he seems to be very good at, but I wonder about most of it. Anyway, I try not to be judgemental with folks (whatever-we all do it) but we had our suspicions about him, and honestly after my various conversations with him, I think he's not too bad a person but he might have a serious monkey or two on his back. He can be chatty and has some great stories if you stop to listen, but he has those glazed shifting eyes that make me hesitant to trust him too much. I envision him looking after the dogs while we were out of town, and having him forget about them or sell them on the side of the road. It actually makes me laugh thinking of my oldest, Maggie, being bought by some hapless family. She's an old crabby leaky arthritic bitch that terrorizes all the other beasts. Gotta love her.
Well, one day at work, my secretary was reading the ABH Police Blotter and said, "Hey, ain't this your neighbor!" I read this police blurb and it confirmed all my suspicions. Meth is nothing to joke around with kiddies. You think you are in control but it will eat you alive. I personally hadn't tried it but I have had relatives who are hooked and can't be trusted. They need their next fix and have nothing left to barter. Well, there's always one thing that can be sold repeatedly, but most decent folks try not to get mixed up in that. Now, that blurb really wasn't a surprise, we knew he had some issues but it's always jolting to have your suspicions confirmed in the city newspaper for all the world to see. Rick is definitely scary looking, probably with a drug habit, but what townie hasn't had association with at least one shady character. As I told Bruno, treat him with respect and civility like any normal person and we won't have anything to worry about, plus I really do think he is a good guy under that rough exterior. At least I can hope so.
A year after moving in, it seems the new neighborhood does feels a little like my previous home, which believe it or not, is nice. It has just a touch of drama, but not all the random crazies who would walk through on their way to downtown. I can also raise hell every once in a while and not worry about pissing off the neighbors since there's more yard to party in and buffer sounds. It's heaven. I guess what some would see as a scary neighbor, I see as a welcomed diversion from my own subjectively dysfunctional household. Sure our little sanctuary can be a bit weird at times, but I think it makes home a bit more fun. If life at home was the same day after day, the house wouldn't have developed a personality so quickly. In the end, I hope the neighbors don't label us as the wierdos and that Rick has sold his computer, if he had one, so he can't read this. I'd hate to be caught up in neighborhood gossip instead of becoming the trendy half vegan household with a compost pile and a pink flamingo. Is a pink flamingo retro-trendy now or just trashy? Who cares, I guess our new place now contributes to an already colorful neighborhood.
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