When I was little, the house next to my best friend's was occupied by a man we'd never seen. My dad called him "the professor" or something, because apparently he used to teach at the UW. All I knew was I'd never seen him, and the only evidence I had that he was actually in there was that occasionally "Opera" (or some equally unacceptable-to-a-ten-year-old) music would come blasting out of the house. (Apparently he was alive, but very deaf, and somewhat nocturnal.)
A few years ago he was carted away in an ambulance in the middle of the night, and while I never heard what had happened, I knew only that his doctor told him if he wanted to live much longer he'd have to start getting outside. And that his name was Frank.
In full spirit of the recommendation, Frank starting coming outside all the time. For having been cooped up for decades (far as I knew), he was remarkably friendly, and seemed to have a set of routines already in place (perhaps only put on pause from all those years ago). He came out every morning and spread birdseed all over the street in front of his house, so that even if I didn't catch him, I knew he'd been there. I hear he walked all the way around the block every day, even. He really was very deaf, and though I saw him nearly every day, I don't think I learned anything more about him except his kind smile and hunched wave.
In the last months before he died, Frank was inside again. One of our neighbors (who doesn't particularly like me) was taking care of him, and though she often scowled at me, I always smiled and waved when I saw her go over to Frank's. I think I only knew he was gone because she stopped crossing in front of my house so often.
Frank's house was sold at auction a few days ago. It sat vacant for some time, and hardly anyone even knew it was being sold until in walks some guy in a white van who informs my mom (on her way to the mailbox) that he just bought the house. She informed him that everyone in the neighborhood is concerned that the original architecture be preserved, and that the house needs a lot of work. Apparently he said "oh yes" and that he plans to do just that, adding only later that he bought it because he has two sons at the UW.
We've been reading a lot recently about
The Stereotype Threat and
potential ways of countering it, and it probably seems ironic that it would be Frank's house that causes a backslide, but, man, I really don't want a couple of frat boys moving in across the street from me...
