Why I (sometimes) hate my neighborhood.

I don't care for air conditioning. It's fine when I'm at work, or dressed up, but I only use it in my house when the heat and humidity get unbearable. Fortunately, the weather has been such that I've not used it yet this year. Instead, open windows and doors and a fan have kept me quite comfortable. It also makes me feel like I have more space. My house is quite small, so having the the breeze and the sounds coming through the screens makes me feel less cramped. It's one of the things I enjoy most about warmer weather. The downside is that people see my front door open (I have a screen with 2 locks) and they seem to think it's an invitation. Sometimes it's just my neighbor who feels the need to shoot the breeze - something I'm not usually not interested in doing. Sometimes, like today, it's someone asking for money or food. That bothers me the most. I feel very conflicted about it. If they are seriously in need, I'd like to help them, but I'm concerned for my safety. They could be checking my place out with the idea of burglarizing it. They could think I'm a soft touch and come back again and again. I just don't know. I donate $ and items to local food banks/shelters and I've volunteered at a few (when my life was less hectic). I'm happy to help, but coming to my house and knocking on my door is not okay. It's just not. I'd never seen the guy that knocked today. He looked quite disheveled and said that he was looking for the man and woman, cops, who used to live up the street. Well, no such people ever lived up the street. He said that he was looking for some canned goods for his kids. I told him that I was unable to help him out but suggested that he go to Paul's Place. He said he'd been there, but they couldn't help him. WHAT?! Both statements raised red flags, so I hope I did the right thing. I feel bad. Really bad. I feel bad for turning him away and I feel bad for being annoyed that he knocked on my door.

Why I (sometimes) love my neighborhood.

I've lived here, in the same house, for 2o years now. It's the longest I've lived anywhere. I'm really a small town girl at heart, totally unprepared for some of the things I've seen and experienced here. Each time I visit my hometown, a place I left 30 years ago, I'm overcome with the urge to return to a place where most everybody knows (even after 30 years) who I am. While I also appreciate a certain amount of anonymity (like the mornings when I desperately run to the store, without make-up or a shower, in search of coffee!), from time to time the feeling of belonging hits me here in my urban neighborhood. Today is a prime example. I walked to the library (please patronize the library, I'm so afraid that it will be snatched from us due to under use/budget cuts). It was a quick trip to drop of one book and pick up one that was on hold for me. As I was checking out, the door opened and I heard someone come in and say, "Hello." I turned and returned the greeting, noting that it was my mailman. He placed some mail and a package on the desk next to me. He pushed the package toward me and said, "This is for you." I was stunned! Apparently he'd seen me out and was concerned that I wouldn't be home when he tried to deliver the package, causing me to have to take a trip to the post office tomorrow. Very nice! He's pleasant demeanor and helpfulness almost make up for the grumpy old white guys who work behind the counter at the PO!