Three Is a Magic Number – The Nature of Neighbors
Three Is a Magic Number by Steven Uhles
It takes more than mere proximity to be neighbors. I live in a subdivision. I have houses both to the left and to the right of me. When I see the people that live in those houses, I greet them with a small wave. That does not, perhaps to my detriment, make me a neighbor. I’m someone who lives near these people. Could I be a neighbor, share my life, opinions, and perhaps the occasional cocktail with those that live in my relatively quiet cul-de-sac? Certainly, but a busy life and significant shyness preclude that.
I’m not a good neighbor. I’m not a bad neighbor. In fact, I’m not a neighbor at all – for better or worse.
That said, I do recognize what it means to be a good neighbor. I understand the worth of compliments over complaints, of powering up the Golden Rule in times of conflict and, most significantly, doing those small things that ensure living together feels more significant than living apart.
Neighbors, neighborhoods, and being neighborly have been on my mind a lot lately. Perhaps it is psychic residue from Hurricane Helene, perhaps it’s my participation in communities outside my immediate environs, or perhaps it’s just a desire, in these fractured times, to see people treat one another with kindness – like neighbors do.
At any rate, this week’s Magic Three is devoted to the idea of what it means to be a neighbor. Check it out.
What can you see from your window (or tree)
Recently, Burke County resident Jeremy Huffman found himself up a tree without a paddle. The Burke County Sheriff’s Office arrested Huffman on the charge of eavesdropping – a felony. The details of the case, and law, are admittedly a little confusing. Huffman, it seems, had climbed a tree on his property and filmed an encampment of the Heart of the Fathers Ministry, purported to be a part of the Black Hebrew Israelites movement. The movement claims African Americans are the descendants of ancient Israelites, directly related to the storied 12 Tribes. The first groups were founded in the late 19th Century and over the years established footholds across the country – including, according to Huffman, the group he filmed camping, firing guns, and causing a significant nuisance next door.
Here’s the thing. The two parties involved are clearly existing in close proximity to one another – but they aren’t neighbors.
Would I be upset if my quiet country living was disturbed by regular gunfire, loud music and a pretty substantive and probably unregistered campsite next door? Absolutely, and the number of reports, complaints, and writs I would have filed would have astonished. It doesn’t sound like Heart of the Fathers were being good neighbors.
But…
If I caught my neighbor up in a tree with a camera pointed at my yard, I would be both uncomfortable and suspicious of his motives.
But clearly good neighbor time is over. What the case against Huffman will come down to is whether it meets the standard of eavesdropping. According to the state statute, it sounds like the prosecution will have to prove that Huffman’s amateur movie making constituted:
By using a device to observe, photograph, or record the activities of another that occur in a private place out of public view without the consent of the persons being observed.
The hitch seems to be – reminding that my legal credentials are based in reruns of “Law & Order” – the line ‘a private place out of public view.’ If the prosecution cannot prove, beyond a reasonable doubt, that the Heart of the Fathers functions were being held in a private location completely outside public view, the Huffman case may be dismissed before a trial date is ever assigned.
Taking it to the streets
A few days ago, I took my son to Hephzibah to see about a carburetor for a car he is restoring. I was surprised by how clear Peach Orchard seemed. Traffic flowed and the living was easy. An hour later, we retraced our steps only to discover – and forgive me if this is too soon – that the road now looked like it had been hit by a hurricane. Poles were down, lines were snapped, and traffic lights lay shattered in the middle of the intersection. Fortunately, I didn’t see any serious traffic accidents. But I’ll tell you what I did see. I saw neighbors. People got out of their cars to clear debris. They helped guide traffic until emergency services arrived. They did the things required to help their fellow man.
In the end, it was not a natural disaster that befell that particular stretch of Peach Orchard, but rather a debris truck with a boom that was snagging and snapping lines for what feels like far too long. I’m still not sure why the first crashing pole or exploding signal didn’t slow the truck down immediately. A mystery. Still, it was great, during that very slow roll back to Bobby Jones, to see people helping people – like a good neighbor.
Neighbors light up my life
As I mentioned before, I’m not much of a neighbor. I do not pay attention to what other people in my subdivision are doing and, if asked, would request the same in return.
Except during the holidays.
Then I’m all about living in a neighborhood. I get buzzed when the first wreath goes up and, quite frankly, live to regard and review every well-lit house within a ten mile radius. In fact, I saw a guy this weekend carefully untangling some illuminated icicles and got very excited. Halloween isn’t even over, but I’m ready for Griswold Acres.
And while I’m more of a minimalist when it comes to holiday decorations – ladders kind of scare me – I appreciate the people that make an effort to not only deck their halls for themselves, but for those that live near them. It feels… neighborly.