...To our suspectedly gay retired neighboor-
While in the course of this el nino driven winter we have both enjoyed and despised the snow that now lies on all of our lawns, we certainly do appreciate your attempts to keep our neighborhood clean and clear of most weather related hazards. This includes, but is not limited to, the widening of our sidewalk, the removal of road debris from around our parked cars, the removal of snow-plowed banks of heavy snow, and the maintenance of our street corners. The dual-track, 4-stroke, cub-cadet snow-thrower you wield is a metaphor for the strength and tenacity that each and every American should aspire to.
I am truly sorry I don't remember your name. Do you recall that fateful late-spring day when you mumbled your name over the street noise (...was it adam? henry? robert?), we were just moving in, two more young sheep amongst your flock that includes all people on West 29th Avenue, from Julien to King streets?
I thought at first you reminded me of Willie Tanner (the dad from Alf). Later I came to respect your neighborhood omnipotence, thinking you closer to Patrick Stewart in Dune.
Of course, I'm writing to you today to let you know that your Patrick Sewart care has been turned into a creepy Col. Frank Fitts, USMC.. While I do appreciate your vigilance; your constant presence in your front window, scanning the world doesn't strike me as Rear Window curiosity, but rather more as the ex-marine Dad in American Beauty.
You must admit, the similarities are there...sweat-stained V-neck t-shirts worn as late as November, the insistance on smoking cigarettes on my front porch while telling me that you can file down my week-old garden shovel until it has a head-removing sharpness and balance, telling me on repeated occasions how you want to show me your classic car collection in your back garage, and your passive-aggressive comments about certain people on our street.
In the morning when I leave for the bus stop, you are always there, back-light by your dinner room light, staring out your front window, watching me while you eat what appears to be a thick piece of meatloaf and gravy. Whats up with that?
Please, for the sake of our street, remember that inasmuch as we appreciate your patriarchal care of all 19 people living on the 3300 block of West 29th avenue, we also appreciate our privacy. Not just our own, but yours too.