I’m now the Ruth Farber of the neighborhood

When I moved in this house some 40 years ago, it was an established neighborhood with sidewalks, streetlights and neighbors.

On one side was “White Shoes” Bob and Edina. They watched me move in but we didn’t introduce ourselves until later.

On the other side was Ruth Farber.

Ms. Farber (I have no idea of her status) was this old lady with kyphosis or curvature of the spine. She lived alone. She’d go out into the backyard everyday with a little rake and a cane, wearing a big hat and a raincoat. She’d move a few leaves around then slowly walk back inside. Around noon, she would walk to the gray car parked out front and drive off for an hour or so. She’d then come back and park in the same spot and walk back inside.

The only time I’d speak to her was when I would cut the grass. She had a chain length fence we would say a few words to each other, then I would go on and she would go back inside.

Now and then I’d see her standing at the side window. She would just stand there staring out.

She never made any noise and never complained about my loud music or that sweet smoke drifting out the window.

Most of the neighborhood residents were retirees. Most of the houses were built in the late 40’s and most were brick cape cods. Everyone parked in front of the house, had the grass cut every week, and mostly stayed inside.

Ms. Farber’s yard appeared to have had a beautiful flower garden in the backyard that had fallen into disrepair. Otherwise, it looked like all the other houses.

Have no history of who she was. Was she married? Was she a schoolteacher or librarian who was living off her pension?

When my wife moved in, she wanted to change things up. One of her goals was landscaping. All the trees and bushes were removed. All the grass was dug up. Black landscape plastic was pinned down and giant holes dug for new plants.

This riled Edina (“White Shoes” Bob had passed) and there was a skirmish over property lines and she had a 10’ chain length fence installed. Ms. Farber would just walk down her property line and pick up whatever had blown into her yard and toss it over the fence.

I don’t know if Ms. Farber and my wife ever came to words, but her constant staring out the window bothered my wife to the point of making the windows opaque.  

Her house was sold in 1999 to a series of young folks who stay a few years and then move on.

Now I’m the neighborhood Ruth Farber.

I’ve replaced the opaque windows and now can time my day by who is parked until they go to work. In the evening I can watch people coming home, picking up their kids from school. I know when someone moves because there are different cars parked out front.

I would wait until people went to work to do my yard chores. 

In these strange days, none of the cars move. It is just a stationary parking lot.

I stand at the window and watch people walk their dogs or push their baby carriages. I watch the bicycles go by and see the occasional delivery truck stop. At night I stare out into the darkness. When I hear a car start, I walk to the window to see who is leaving isolation.

My window is about ten feet away from the sidewalk, so the passerby can also see me. Some wave when they see me, staring at them.

I’m the Ruth Farber of the neighborhood.