I have a neighbor. Admittedly, I do not know him well, and he is living with the truth of the adage, "first impressions are the most lasting." He does not know that he is living with the consequences of my first impression of him, and, frankly, I am fairly certain that it would be impossible for him to care any less if he did know. But, my first impression of him is why I devilishly am enjoying watching his futile efforts. Perhaps, if I knew him better, my impressions would change. My efforts, however, in being sociable have been met with absolutely no congeniality.
This man has a beautifully groomed yard. We learned of his devotion to his yard when a neighbor experienced sewerage backing up into his house caused by roots in the pipes on this gentleman's property. He was far less concerned by the neighbor's predicament than by the thought that a utility company may dig a hole in his yard. He was living under the misconception that by screaming at the utility company worker, dropping the "F-bomb," and all round acting the ass that he could somehow prevent them from coming on his property. Impressing all who learned the story, the utility worker did not lose his cool, and patiently explained that he did have the right to come on the property and dig where necessary. He also, kindly, explained that while excrement was not bubbling up in the gentleman's tubs, showers, and sinks now, it would eventually. That little tidbit can convince the most contrary soul that capitulation may be the wiser move.
Did I mention this man loves his yard? Did I mention that I, very unkindly, am enjoying watching his futile efforts? There are thirty-seven trees in this man's front yard. I counted them. Two of them are evergreens. Let me stress, this man LOVES his yard, and he works to keep it pristine, but he has thirty-five deciduous trees in his yard. Thirty-five big trees....with leaves....with leaves dropping every second...with leaves dropping every second for the past several days.
Now, the only question this man asked when he was approached about the pipe and roots and digging in his yard issue was, "do you know who I am?" That question is always loaded. Turns out, he is a director of music videos; like he's the only one of those living in Music City, USA. He is quite taken with his position, while his sewerage infected neighbors found the fact somewhat less than
impressive. They just wanted the poop (oh, how I would love to use a better descriptor here, but I will refrain) out of their pipes.
So, as I pass him on my walks (the FitBit is a tyrant, but that's for another blog) I watch him desperately trying to keep his yard in pristine condition, I whisper to myself, " yes, I know who you are. You are the man fighting a losing battle. You are the man who is going to require surgery to remove that leaf blower from your hand. You are the man who some day will learn (or not) that you have no control. Oh, man, you may be the man who after zillions of man-hours blowing and raking will learn that decaying leaves feed your lawn and are better left where they fall. You are the man who is living in fear; of what, I don't know. You are the man to whom I will continue to speak and try to know a bit better......"
I will end my enjoyment of his futility, and analyze my own wasted strivings. I will give 2nd and 3rd and 70 times 7 impressions a chance to change my lasting first impression.
Blessings
