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The People Next Door (by Billy Coffey)

image courtesy of photobucket.com

I never knew their names, never even saw their faces, and so for a week they were referred to as The People Next Door.

That sort of thing tends to happen a lot when you’re on vacation. You share space with people who are on different schedules and live different lives. The one thing that ties us all together is the fact that we’re all sharing a building that overlooks an ocean.

There is an implied non-intervention pact between the temporary residents of the hotel. We nod and say good morning on the elevators and in the hallways, but that’s where our societal responsibilities end. Aside from that, we are ensconced in our own familial lives.

The only loophole as far as The People Next Door and me was the late nights, when we found ourselves on the balconies outside our respective rooms. I was on mine to get some writing done while the family slept inside. They were on theirs to watch the people on the boardwalk below and the dark blue water. All that separated us was a five-inch wooden partition that offered much privacy of sight but little privacy of sound.

So I typed and listened, and they stared and spoke.

Husband and wife. Older, by the sound of them. Empty nesters, perhaps. Enjoying life or trying to.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” the woman said on the first night.

“Very,” said the man.

“I think I could sit here and listen those waves all night.”

“Hmm.”

I divided my mind between the sentence I was writing and the analysis of the man’s answer— “Hmm.” Not necessarily agreement. That would have required a “-mm” at the end: “Hmm-mm.” But there was none. I supposed that last little part could have been drowned out by the series of waves that crashed just below us, but I doubted it. It was just “Hmm,” and nothing else. Not an agreement. A question.

The next night brought more and livelier conversation. Two towels had been draped over their railing, peeking at me as they flapped in the warm breeze.

“Did you enjoy your day?” the woman asked.

“I did,” the man answered. There was more conviction in his voice than the night before. A good thing. “The book I’m reading is getting good.”

“The book?” she said. “You can read a book at home. What about the weather or the beach? The dinner?”

“Oh they were fine,” he said. “Really just…fine.” And then, perhaps to steer the conversation another way—

“Did you enjoy your day?”

“Yes,” she said. “Those teenagers don’t have much in the way of modesty, do they?”

“No,” he said, “they surely don’t.”

“It was crowded today.”

“Yes.”

“And sandy.”

“Well,” he said, “it is the beach, dear.”

“Yes.”

“So did you enjoy yourself?”

“Yes.”

But I wondered.

I’ll be honest—the next night I went out onto the balcony more to listen than to write. I wasn’t disappointed. They weren’t simply speaking more, they were saying more.

“Three days left,” the man said. “Will you be sad to go?”

The woman left that question unanswered by saying, “I’ve had a nice time so far.”

“Do you think we made the right decision?”

Silence, and in that silence was her answer—not a no, but not a yes either. The in-between answer of a divided heart.

“Do you remember the night you proposed to me?” she asked him. “You gave me that ring and I cried like a baby.”

“I seem to remember I was doing my own share of crying,” he said.

“I don’t think we should have sold it.”

More silence. Then the man said, “We don’t need a ring to let people know we love each other. And you’ve always wanted to see the ocean. It’s a long drive from Missouri. Gold’s worth a lot nowadays.”

“Three days left,” she said.

There was no towels draped over the railing the next night. No teasing. No conversation. Just the silence. So much so that after a while I did the unthinkable and craned my head around the wooden partition. Darkness.

They had left a day early.

I supposed the man was right. They didn’t need a ring. Taking his bride to a place she’d always wanted to see was a wonderful gift. A loving gift.

But I wondered. Making new memories that comfort us is a good thing, I thought. But not by sacrificing old memories that sustain us.

To read more from Billy Coffey, visit him at his blog What I Learned Today and follow him on twitter at @BillyCoffey

Backyard Oasis Courtesy of the Sky Mall, Part 2

If you missed Part 1 of this series, you can find it here:Backyard Oasis Courtesy of the Sky Mall, Part 1

But here’s a brief recap: The acreage behind my house will soon be turned into a 170 home subdivision, and since our yard is not much to look at (unless you like wide open spaces), I thought I would treat our new neighbors with a visual delight with some help from our friends at the Sky Mall. Option 1 was African Safari Oasis.

If you’ve read this blog before, than I’m sure you’re aware that I am a Christian. But I thought to myself, do I have the right to publicly proclaim my faith to those who don’t share my belief system? I don’t recall reading anywhere in the Bible that I should be doing this. (Oh wait…maybe I did…But I digress…)

The Houston area is vastly diverse, with all cultures living in harmony. Why not have a backyard oasis to reflect this fact? Ladies and gentlemen, I submit for your approval Option 2,

The Garden Oasis of Tolerance and Diversity:

I thought I would start with a few Greek gods scattered about the property. Sadly, Zeus is not available, but this guy is:

Poseidon: God of the Sea $350.00

The muscular god of the sea holds his famed trident and stands astride his symbolic triple dolphin in our exclusive, grand-scale sculpt. This Italian-inspired, 18th-century replica exudes the power attributed to one of the fabled gods of mythology.

We don’t have a pool as pictured, but sometimes we get some puddles after a heavy rain.

Goddess Aurora Statue (Estate) $450.00

Balancing atop her grand plinth, our statue is based on a classic 19th-century sculpture of the goddess Aurora that once crowned an elegant garden fountain.

“Hebe, the Goddess of Youth” Statue $395.00

Artist Bertel Thorvaldsen truly captured the eternal beauty of youth with his sculptural likeness of Hebe, cupbearer of the Greek gods. (She’s probably fun at keggers, too.)

And speaking of ancient civilizations, I thought it would be a good idea to have my Asian ancestors represent:

The Enlightened Buddha Statue $135.00

Floating on a stylized lotus, this nearly 3 1/2-foot-tall Buddha sculpture arrives like a refreshing breeze with his calm countenance and endless serenity.

Who among you couldn’t use some endless serenity? I’d be all up in that. But some prefer a happier, jollier Buddha, so I thought I throw this guy in, too:

Jolly Hotei Buddha Statue $115.00

What better friend to have than one who changes all the sorrows of the world into happiness? It is tradition to rub the belly of over two-foot-tall Asian work of art for joy, his ear lobes for wisdom, and the gold in his hands for wealth.

Then I figured, if one jolly fat guy makes you smile, the more the merrier:

“Basho the Sumo Wrestler” Sculpture $95.00

Basho crouches in his mawashi (Sumo belt) in these intricate sculpts with wide stances.

I’m gonna be honest. My Japanese is a little rusty, but I’m pretty sure “Basho” loosely translates into “Tons of Fun”.

“Easter Island Moai Monolith” Statues $98.95

Inspired by the 380 A.D. originals
Assumed to be depictions of local chiefs, heroes or gods, the giant statues on Easter Island are some of the world’s most intriguing archaeological artifacts
.

I’m not exactly sure anyone still worships these giant heads, but I’ve always been a fan of the unibrow.

Rhiannon the Archer Fairy $295.00

In a classic sculptural pose, our traditional work of European garden art depicts a beautiful archer drawing back to let her arrow fly.

What’s that you say? People don’t worship fairies? You’ve obviously never been to the Renaissance Festival…

And just because I wanted to add a little mystery and whimsy to the vignette, you know him, you love him:

“Bigfoot, the Garden Yeti” Statue $98.95

With alleged Bigfoot sightings the world over, from the Himalayas to the Americas, this elusive, mythical legend has been captured for Toscano in a quality designer resin statue and hand-painted for startling realism.

Startling realism? Did Sasquatch pose for this statue? Hmmm….

This brings today’s Garden Oasis Option grand total of $2,032.90. But seriously, can you put a price on tolerance and diversity? Me thinks not…

Tomorrow I will conclude this series with one final option. I know…you’re welcome.

Backyard Oasis courtesy of the Sky Mall, Part One

I consider the neighborhood where I live to be ideal. Let me rephrase that. I used to consider the neighborhood where I live to be ideal. It’s close to everything, but once you drive back here, it’s like you’re living in the country. The lots are an acre or more, there are no sidewalks or streetlights and the neighbors are neighborly. Best of all, the back of our lot backed up to some woods and a field of cattle. I remember sitting on the back porch at night and hearing coyotes and all manner of wildlife. That may not sound appealing to some, but I liked it.

Since we built here several years ago, the woods have been replaced by a subdivision, but until recently we still had our cattle neighbors. Now it seems a developer has made the owner of the adjacent property a offer too good to refuse. Soon the field behind me will be replaced with 170 homes. I’m not thrilled about it, but since I want to be neighborly, I got the idea of fixing up our rather boring backyard into a bit of an oasis for the new neighbors for enjoy. I know…I’m a giver. Here’s what our back yard currently looks like:


Not exactly visually appealing. Oh, sure the blue pressure tank and the 55 gallon drum we use to burn trash are lovely, just not “fancy”. I want to give our new neighbors some fancy. And I need your help.

My good friends at the Sky Mall have a plethora of fantastical yard art just waiting to put me in unrecoverable debt. The problem is, there’s so much to choose from! This is where you come in. Please give my your opinion which theme you think best suits my back yard:

Option 1: African Safari

That’s a pretty sizable backyard, and the summers here are what I like to call “Africa hot”. This option makes sense in so many ways.

Zairen the Zebra Sculpture $235.00

This exceptional work of art lends a touch of exotic flair to even the most domestic setting!…Imagine your guests’ expressions at spying this meticulously hand-painted, bold black-and-white Toscano exclusive in a flowerbed or along a garden path!

“Kalahari” Meerkat Statues $19.95 to $34.95 (not sure whether the butt or the head is more expensive)

We’ve little doubt why meerkats recently became beloved screen stars–they’re adorable! Our spirited sculptures busily climb “in through the out door” in this imaginative Design Toscano exclusive, two-part sculpt cast in quality designer resin and hand-painted in realistic tones for your home and garden.

“Lioness of Namibia” Statue by artist Samuel Lightfoot $125.00

Transform your home or garden into an exotic paradise with our regal lioness…Lightfoot’s big cat sculpture will securely stretch languidly atop your mantel, garden wall or outdoor tree branch (I’m a big fan of languid security.)

“Mombasa, the Garden Giraffe” $995.00

At almost 8 feet tall, it’s the largest garden sculpture we’ve ever offered!
If you really want your garden to be noticed, Mombasa, our almost 8-foot-tall designer resin giraffe, is sized to impress! Since there’s no hiding this realistically hand-painted, exclusive sculpture, even amidst your tall trees and hedges, your neighbors are sure to be surprised when Mombasa moves in next door. For ornamental use only.
(As opposed to what?

There you have it. Option One for a grand total of $1,409.90 (plus shipping and handling). Tomorrow I will have a guest post, then on Thursday I will present at least 2 more options for you to choose from. Stay tuned.

In the meantime, why don’t you check out some of these wonderful items yourselves at skymall.com. And tell them katdish sent you.

Then again, maybe just leave my name out of it…

What’s that you say? You’ve never read a katdish Sky Mall Post before? Well, you don’t even know me! Here they are, in all their glory:

Blog Fodder First in a Series!

Katdish Holiday Gift Guide Part 2

Katdish Holiday Gift Guide Part 3

Katdish Holiday Gift Guide Part 4

Tuesdays with Sky Mall

One More Thing

The New Sky Mall’s Here! The New Sky Mall’s Here!

From Hair to Eternity: The Summer Sky Mall Post

Loving thy neighbor (by Billy Coffey)


(This is a repost from What I Learned Today, April, 7, 2009)

My friend Pete loves everybody. It’s a matter of pride to him, I think. He’ll tell you that he loves you the first time you meet him. Doesn’t matter who are or what you look like, either. “I’ve never met anybody I didn’t love,” he’ll say, “’Cause I love Jesus and Jesus loves me. So I gotta love you, too.” Then he’ll grab you in his gargantuan arms and lift you off the ground, shaking your bones like a pair of dice.

That’s Pete.

Pete is also as traditional as they come. Church every Sunday and Wednesday, and not a morning goes by without scripture and prayer. The combination of the two has infused in him and his family a bedrock of faith that for years refused to be shaken by anything life could throw at him.

Until the other day. Until my phone rang and he said in his breathless, forty-four-year-old voice, “You gotta get over here. Now.”

Pete was on his front porch when I got there, rocking back and forth in a lawn chair that was not made for rocking, looking thoroughly displeased. He offered me our usual snack—a Coke and a bag of peanuts. I proceeded to dump the latter into the former and take a sip of the salty sweetness.

“What’s up?” I asked him.

“Don’t believe it,” he said. “Don’t believe it, don’t believe it, dontbelieveit.”

“Don’t believe what?” I asked. Another sip.

“Johnson house sold there, across the street,” he said, pointing.

I turned around and followed his finger. Sure enough, the FOR SALE sign on the house across from his had been topped with another that said SOLD. The Johnsons had moved three weeks ago, and everyone figured that the house would be empty for a long while given the economy.

“Great,” I said, facing him again. “You have new neighbors. What’s the problem?”

“Dontbelieveit dontbelieveit dontbelieveit.”

“Pete, you swallow something you weren’t supposed to?” I asked. “You been in the moonshine?”

“Lookie!” he almost shouted, pointing again. “Lookie there and see what the cat done dragged in. Dontbelieveit!”

I turned again. Standing on the front porch of the Johnson house were Pete’s new neighbors. Older lady, slightly younger gal. They were attempting to arrange an assortment of rocking chairs and tables just so and not quite getting it. An aggravating situation for some, though they seemed in bright enough spirits.

“Pete, I don’t—”

“—LOOKIE!”

The older woman, now utterly confused by the configurations of her new porch, simply gave one of the rockers a hard shove into the younger lady. The act of frustration was met with laughter from both, who then proceeded to fall into one another’s arms and share a very long, very deep…kiss.

“Dontbelieveit,” I said.

Pete buried his head in his hands. “Lawd,” he said. I wasn’t sure if he was praying or merely dumbfounded. “Lawd Jesus God help me.”

Praying.

“Lawd, why’d You do this to me?” he moaned. “Thissa sort of thing that happens out in Hellywood, Lawd. Not ’cross the street.”

I shook my head in amazement, and the sheer irony of it all made me laugh. Pete, God-and-mama-and-apple-pie Pete, I-love-everybody Pete, had gotten a gay couple for neighbors.

“Huh,” I said. “Ain’t that something.”

“Somethin’?” he retorted, raising his head to look at me. “Don’t you know this ain’t good? Ain’t you read your Bible, boy?”

“Yep,” I said.

“Well, there then,” he answered, as if that explained things.

“You a little homophobic, Pete?” I asked, with a sip of my Coke and a smile.

“Homophobic?” he said. “Homophobic? Boy, I gotta eat a corndog with a knife and fork.”

I snorted out my drink and bent over, wiping it from my mouth and blue jeans.

Pete stared at me, unsure of what had just transpired that would cause me to make such a mess of myself. “What am I gonna do?” he asked. “What. Am. I. Gonna. Do?”

I thought about that. What was Pete going to do? Fume and pout, I supposed. For a little while, anyway. But then Jesus would come calling. The Jesus Pete loved and Who loved him more, Who said that hate was never really any good for anything other than eating up your own insides. He would come calling and tell Peter that it’s easy to love those who are like you, that everyone does that. But that love Jesus wanted from Peter was the hard love, the kind that’s not easy.

It’s okay to not like what they do, Jesus would say, because He didn’t like it either. But Jesus also loved those two women, and He wanted Pete to do the same. Because Pete had faith, and because that faith just might be the closest thing to Jesus those two women ever see.

“Just wait,” I told him. “It’ll come to you.”

We stared across the street. The two women resumed their rocking chair arranging, then stared at us.

They waved.

We waved back.

***

To read more from Billy Coffey, visit him at at his new website and follow him on the twitter at @billycoffey.

***

And be sure to stop by Nick the Geek’s blog and wish him a Very Geeky Birthday and check out my little tribute to him over at
The Fellowship of the Traveling Smartypants.

The Neighbor (Repost)

The girl sat at home alone; at least without human company, but the family cat was there.

At 10, she had become an expert at faking a sick day. The truth was she didn’t want to go to school. She had always been a bit of a square peg, and now with her family still reeling from a bitter divorce, facing her school friends with their in-tact families seemed a bit too daunting for a Monday. Money was tight for a single mother of four, especially when said mother happened to be employed as a waitress. A day off to care for a sick child was not really an option when you worked for tips.

Her mother reluctantly left her youngest child home alone, knowing there were neighbors next door and across the street the girl could call in case of an emergency.

The girl was enjoying her solitude. She was ordinarily a talkative, outgoing child, but lately wasn’t really feeling that way. She was perfectly content with the company of the television and the family cat, Nicky.

Nicky was another matter. After an expensive series of treatments for feline leukemia, he was finally in remission. He represented the life before her dad announced (on Christmas day, no less) that he was leaving. Nicky was a reminder of a family unbroken – Dad, Mom, sisters, brother, dog and cat. Perhaps that was too much to expect from a cat, but as the girl sat there with the cat purring in her lap, she felt comforted.

That is, until the cat fell from her lap and onto the floor. He began to pant and become limp. Terrified, she did the first thing that came to her mind. She called Mrs. Jones.

The Jones family lived two doors down. Their youngest daughter was friends with the girl’s older sister. They were a good, Christian family who always seemed to be doing something for someone else. Mrs. Jones was one of the kindest, most sincere people that the girl had ever met in her young life. Even though the neighbors obviously knew what was going on in that house, the girl never felt judged or pitied by Mrs. Jones – only loved.

The girl dialed the Jones house, said something incoherent into the phone through her tears and hung up. Mrs. Jones was there in a matter of minutes. She embraced the young girl and told her it was going to be okay. She then calmly wrapped the cat into a towel, and walked with the girl and the cat the short distance to her driveway.

The girl sobbed quietly on the way to the vet. She knew that Nicky would not be making the return ride home in the car. Alas he did not, but Mrs. Jones was there. And somehow that made the ride home much more bearable.

In case you haven’t figured it out yet, that little girl was me. As I sat at the funeral of Mrs. Jones over 30 years later, I reflected upon how on that day and on countless other days for countless other people, her kindess and love reflected the Love of Christ. She really understood about that kind of love. I am so grateful for people in my life like Mrs. Jones.

The Neighbor

The girl sat at home alone; at least without human company, but the family cat was there.

At 10, she had become an expert at faking a sick day. The truth was she didn’t want to go to school. She had always been a bit of a square peg, and now with her family still reeling from a bitter divorce, facing her school friends with their in-tact families seemed a bit too daunting for a Monday. Money was tight for a single mother of four, especially when said mother happened to be employed as a waitress. A day off to care for a sick child was not really an option when you worked for tips.

Her mother reluctantly left her youngest child home alone, knowing there were neighbors next door and across the street the girl could call in case of an emergency.

The girl was enjoying her solitude. She was ordinarily a talkative, outgoing child, but lately wasn’t really feeling that way. She was perfectly content with the company of the television and the family cat, Nicky.

Nicky was another matter. After an expensive series of treatments for feline leukemia, he was finally in remission. He represented the life before her dad announced (on Christmas day, no less) that he was leaving. Nicky was a reminder of a family unbroken – Dad, Mom, sisters, brother, dog and cat. Perhaps that was too much to expect from a cat, but as the girl sat there with the cat purring in her lap, she felt comforted.

That is, until the cat fell from her lap and onto the floor. He began to pant and become limp. Terrified, she did the first thing that came to her mind. She called Mrs. Jones.

The Jones family lived two doors down. Their youngest daughter was friends with the girl’s older sister. They were a good, Christian family who always seemed to be doing something for someone else. Mrs. Jones was one of the kindest, most sincere people that the girl had ever met in her young life. Even though the neighbors obviously knew what was going on in that house, the girl never felt judged or pitied by Mrs. Jones – only loved.

The girl dialed the Jones house, said something incoherent into the phone through her tears and hung up. Mrs. Jones was there in a matter of minutes. She embraced the young girl and told her it was going to be okay. She then calmly wrapped the cat into a towel, and walked with the girl and the cat the short distance to her driveway.

The girl sobbed quietly on the way to the vet. She knew that Nicky would not be making the return ride home in the car. Alas he did not, but Mrs. Jones was there. And somehow that made the ride home much more bearable.

In case you haven’t figured it out yet, that little girl was me. As I sat at the funeral of Mrs. Jones over 30 years later, I reflected upon how on that day and on countless other days for countless other people, her kindess and love reflected the Love of Christ. She really understood about that kind of love. I am so grateful for people in my life like Mrs. Jones.

Who’s your neighbor?

I have set out to write this post on several occasions, but I always get distracted. I don’t know why…

But my friend Stacy from Louisville (I mostly just call her Stacy, cuz we’re Facebook BFFs and all) wrote a really great post about community that reminded me about writing this particular post. When I started blogging, It was mostly just a way to write really long comments about what I thought about stuff, thereby saving space on other blogs in the comments section. (That’s worked out pretty well, don’t you think?) But it has become so much more than that. I have met so many great people through blogging that I can honestly say I consider my friends. I’ve even had the great pleasure of meeting some of them face to face, and am looking forward to meeting a few more. A few of my bloggity gal pals were discussing/wondering if we would have ever become friends if we had all met in the “real” world. I would really like to believe that we would, but I think the odds are against it. The blogs I follow are pretty diverse, as are the people who write them, but there is something that caught my attention, some kinship, about each and every one of them. My reading them was not random, it was intentional.

So….In the interest of being completely random, I’m challenging you to meet your blog neighbor! You can do this every day, and your neighbor will be different every time. If you have a blogger account, go to the top of your blog and click on “Next Blog”. There’s your neighbor! (You are allowed to skip the blog if it is in another language or just a little too freaky-deeky for your taste. That has been the case on several occasions for me.) But this time, my neighbor was Tanya at Trixi’s Stretching. No, she’s not a Pilate’s instructor. She’s a photographer and all around creative person. She also lives in Texas, like me. Considering all the blogs in locations all over the world, what are the odds of that? I left her a comment telling her that I was her neighbor and what I hope was an encouraging comment about the post I landed on. She’s a great photographer, btw. You should go check out her blog. I haven’t heard back from her, but her friend RRamone entered my Super Skanktacular Saturday Giveaway. He also made me laugh out loud. That dude’s a riot, and also an artist – Kewl.

So, there you have it. Are you going to stay inside your little circle of friends? Or are you going to go meet your neighbor? Inquiring minds want to know…

Worst…Treat…Ever

Tonight was our neighborhood’s annual Halloween Hayride. I live in a really unique neighborhood of approximately 40 homes on lots anywhere from 1 to 5 acres each. It’s a great place to live, especially if you have kids. It’s basically a giant cul-de-sac with 2 small cul-de-sacs branching off of the main one. There is only one way in and one way out of the neighborhood, so we don’t have any thru traffic. As I said, a great place to raise a family. One of the only drawbacks to living here is that there are no street lights and no sidewalks. About 15 years ago some neighbors got together and decided it would be great to have all the kids pile onto the back of a trailer lined with bales of hay, and drive around the neighborhood and all trick or treat together. It provides safety for the kids and is a great way to get to know your neighbors. As an added bonus, rather than answering your door several times a night, you only have the one onslaught of kids, then you can put the candy away, and call it a night. It’s awesome. My kids love it, and they get some really great candy and treats. Last year, one neighbor was giving out FULL SIZED SNICKERS BARS — Awesome. So, I just sat down to go through my daughter’s treat bag. As a good mom, it’s important that I check to see if any of the candy is tainted and to remove any of the strawberry twizzlers and keep them for myself. Motherhood has its privileges. So, I grab a handful of stuff, lay it down on the counter and spot this:
Now, don’t get me wrong. I understand that some health conscience people like to give out healthy alternatives such as pretzels, oranges and other crap that kids don’t like to get. Halloween themed pencils are also a good choice if you don’t want to give candy. But people, Halloween is not a re-gifting holiday. While it may be tempting to go through your junk drawer and spread the wealth to your neighbor’s kids, it’s just not in the spirit of the holiday. Not that I’m against re-gifting — I have done it myself. (Of course, I’ve never re-gifted to any of my wonderful friends that read this blog, but you know, some other people.) Anyway, who thinks to themselves, “What 3 to 10 year old child wouldn’t be delighted to receive a Ricky Martin Livin’ La Vida Loca mini keychain?”
I’m going to do a bit of undercover investigating around the neighborhood. Christmas will be here sooner than you think, and while I will give out wonderful homemade candy to many of neighbors, the giver of this little Halloween trinket will be re-gifted a small, beautifully wrapped box with a card that simply says: “Feliz Navidad”.