Resettlement Chronicles II: Between Crickets and AC

Author’s note: Comments are still set to moderation, but I can spit them through easier than I believed with the WordPress app.

One of the new joys here is a front porch with a swing. Last house didn’t have a porch. Can’t have a porch swing without one of those.

The neighbor came out to meet us last night. I was surprised because his house looks like hell. In fact I thought he didn’t actually live there; a forgotten fixer-upper. Crappy houses usually hold crappy neighbors, or none. But he’s a tradesman; young, fit, bearded, and tattoo’d. His clean-cut but tousled hair and smirking eyes are exactly the worrisome sort to hire as a poolboy. I liked him.

He came out with his son and introduced himself. We shook hands and then he went to go get the rest of his family; a wife and two more girls. I did likewise. He said, “You want to see the inside? I’ve been working on it.”

Beautiful. The floors and ceilings were wood. Walls had been knocked down and more rooms added. The kitchen is monstrous, and the stove is in an island over which a stainless steel hood hovers. He had $50,000 in granite counters, island, trim, and windowsills that he’d got in trade for some work he’d done. He said he’d been working on it for three years. Along the way he’d sold his truck and his band equipment to help pay for it all. He’s the rock’n’roll hunky handyman proto- millionaire, and a pleasant neighbor.

Last night Mrs. Caldo and I were watching a movie on that ancient tech: DVD. We had paused it, and I was in the kitchen. Suddenly I heard a loud, strange noise, and I thought she had started Lethal Weapon back up.

“Hey!” I yelled. She walked in. She replied in staccato.

“No. Way.”

I went outside, lit a cigarette and sat on the swing. I could hear the rumbling of the cars in between the blasts of train’s warning.

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11 thoughts on “Resettlement Chronicles II: Between Crickets and AC

  1. I wasn’t referring to anything in particular. Just noting that a train is such a foreign sound that I associate it with TV.

    Dalrock quoted Blues Brothers.

  2. Every new home has its own quirks and drawbacks, but on the upside, you get to spend days exploring new surroundings, which is a favorite thing for me to do whenever I move. Where there are trains, there are hiking trails…

    Good luck to you and your family in the new place.

  3. Thanks.

    I like the trains. In three days I’ve only heard them twice, and they add to the small town feel. We’ve had our fill of cities. I like people, so even though I entertain fantasies of living in the sticks, small towns are the best fit, and I think most conducive to neighborly living in America. I understand that in Europe big cities have neighborhoods that function like villages, but that’s not so true in the US.

  4. I live, oddly given the regional populations, in a small town. Went over to a friends house to watch the fireworks. He lives at the edge of a nearby smaller town. A five hundredish foot hill separates him from the town proper. He had dinner at my house with his kids then we hiked up the quarterish mile up the hill that the rancher who owns the hill allows him access to. All of the neighbors and their guests joined in. We had 20ish people on the hill watching the fireworks down below. I love that.

  5. Speaking as a railroader, please, railroad tracks are NOT hiking trails. They are private property with the potential of ending your life in a red mist.

  6. I have ridden the train frequently over the last year. So far my train has hit two folks, both lived. One bicyclist who tried to beat the train (rear tire got smacked) and one drunk lady. Being drunk saves lives.

  7. Pingback: On a lighter note…. | A Man, His Wife, and the Bible

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