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| Mmm, raspberries. |
Growing up, there was a woman in our neighborhood whose self-appointed duty was to make life miserable for anyone younger than 18. She was a rumor-monger and loved to pass on gossipy bits to anyone who would listen regardless of how unlikely the rumors were. If she caught you doorbell-ditching her house, she would make you come pull weeds out of her garden. Apparently she didn't realize that by affixing a punishment she drew many more ditching attempts because now there was an actual thrill involved - to avoid the danger of being caught. Gordon and Seth and I came up with the world's greatest doorbell ditching method and we used it on her numerous times without repercussion. We each took a large crab-apple from a nearby tree and threw them one after another. The crab-apples arrived at her door within a fraction of a second of each other and gave the appearance of someone knocking on the door. But now we had the advantage of already being 50 feet away from the door, providing us additional valuable seconds in our escape. We did this at every opportunity.
One day I was at home alone and the phone rang. When I answered, it was this woman. She asked to speak to my mother. I told her she was not home. She called back very soon thereafter and asked to speak to my mother again. I told her she still wasn't home and I didn't know when she would be back. Within ten minutes, she called back again. I told her that no, my mother STILL wasn't home and she asked me to take a message. She asked me to tell my mother that she had seen Gordon behind Storehouse Market throwing dirt clods at the fence. I nodded to myself. Dirt clods. At an old wooden fence. Crisis. It's really no wonder she was desperate to get through to my mother. I hung up after assuring her that I would indeed pass along the vital information. Which I did not.
Aiding and abetting, it's what I do.
I had one of those across the street from my house. I would come home from dates at night and I could see her curtains parted watching... waiting for me to do something inappropriate to report to my mother... but kind of creepy.
ReplyDeleteYes, I remember her telling Marriner and I we would have to work in her yard. We refused. She came over to my house to talk with my mom and got her to agree to make me work in her garden.
ReplyDeleteWe did a good job weeding, making sure to weed and not just pull various plants up and talk. And afterwards, we would doorbell ditch her with renewed zeal.
One part of the story you're missing is that this fence was in a vacant lot behind Storehouse and was far from molesting any human being existing.
Sister Howe was a bitch.
What mother on earth has so much time on her hands that she is worried about this sort of stuff? A bad mother. One that doesn't pay the least bit of attention to the people who actually need it. I mean, who's going to protect those defenseless fences from being lambasted by dirt clod from boys who are obviously on the verge of ruin and the path of unrighteousness?
ReplyDeleteShe needs to have a super hero name for her all her good deeds in saving these helpless barricades.
I think there is one of these women in every neighborhood. Ours was Evelynn Mower. My mom would roll her eyes every time she came over to tell us some "important" things she had seen us do. Like picking the crabapple flowers and making a trail down the street with them. Really bad stuff. Who were my parents, anyway?!
ReplyDeleteIt's so funny that they don't realize how much more they will be a target when they're not dumb like that. They deserve so much bugging.
I had no neighbors. (sad face)
ReplyDelete