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Maplewood, New Jersey

We moved.

At times I feel like the novelist Shirley Jackson in Bennington, Vermont--surrounded by hostile lunatics.

We share a private back road with ten or twelve other families, and the families operate an email list--and so passive-aggressive mass e-mails are exchanged.

"Does anyone know who this trash bag belongs to? It's just....we pay for only one can....so we really prefer not to give our can-space to this foreign bag....Picture attached....."

"Is this your cat? He spends so much time in my garden and on my lawn....I just want to be able to greet him properly! Photo attached...."

Within days of having moved, my husband and I received an ominous note on the windshield of our car. "Dear (New) Neighbor....We noticed you have been parking in this corner. Please refer to the attached survey, with explicit guidelines about right-of-way....We'd love to talk this over with you.....With neighborly regard...."

When I saw the words "right-of-way," my heart stopped. People have murdered one another over questions pertaining to right-of-way.

My husband and I have allies, in this community, and they are our neighbors, a gay couple with two children and nine pets. I fell in love with them immediately because (a) they have nine pets, (b) they felt compelled to list the species of each of the pets in their intro email, and (c) they also gave us the name of each pet, in writing. To me, all of this says, WE ARE DECENT PEOPLE. I'm particularly curious about the two--not one, but two--rabbits that this couple owns.

And had you wondered what was happening in my life? If you don't know, now you know. Maplewood, we'll be friends. Just give it some time.
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