When I grew up in Canada, we knew our neighbors. The ones next door. The ones down the street. And definitely the ones across the street, especially the mother who screamed, “Ian!” every evening around 6:00PM, a.k.a. dinner time, because Ian loved to play outdoors, no matter the weather or the season.
As I grew up and we moved the States, I noticed more and more, that society turned inward. Kids played outside less. Folks paid landscapers to mow their lawns, so you rarely caught a glimpse of your neighbors unless they were pulling in or out of their driveway.
Fast forward a decade and Hubs and I end up in New York. The very mention of New York suggests high rises, pricey goods, and crowded subways. Oh, and fear. Don’t trust anyone, especially your neighbors. Then, by a fun turn of events, we moved into the town of Oyster Bay, first to Glen Cove and then, Locust Valley, where we currently live.
I never imagined being on a street where you not only know your neighbors, they become like family to you. And they have… Continue reading