Being Neighborly

I LIVE IN A MIDDLE CLASS neighborhood in a small, very small, southern Midwestern town. I work the normal nine to five thing. I have lived here for ten years, with the same job, same neighbors, same house. My neighbors seem to all be nice people, but its hard to tell, because I rarely speak to them. A time or two I have knocked on their doors, but there hasn't been any answer, even though they were obviously inside. No problem, their choice. People are busy, and a sudden knock on one's door does not obligate one to answer the door. Anyhow, they would have been disappointed; all I wanted was to say hello, and have a short neighborly visit. Well, at least I tried. My back up strategy became; say howdy to the neighbors if and when I happen to be outside in my yard, and they happen to be coming or going. That works a little better, but not much. The guy on my right is very personable, but a bit taciturn. And every danged time I start a conversation with him in our yards, his wife starts yelling at him to come hither, as if his speaking to a neighbor is not acceptable. this happens about once a year, because I dare not try communication any more often; I might risk being perceived as a busy body bad neighbor. Over on the left, is a nice lady about my age, with a grown daughter, a dog, and a cat. I am careful to only try her about once a year also; wouldn't want to intrude. Yesterday was my day. She got out of her car, and went to her mailbox. I dropped my hedge trimmers, and waled in her direction, determined to just say hello. I did this, then remarked that although we are indeed neighbors, we rarely speak to each other. Her reply is that"we are all so very busy". Now, I'm willing to ignore the truth as much as the next guy, but I have limits. I responded: "No, Judy, we are not too busy to speak. We are simply unfriendly". She didn't respond to this (people seldom respond to truth, because they don't like the truth), but instead, got her mail out of her mailbox, and proceeded to open and read it, even as we spoke. Too busy, indeed. Here she was, making herself too busy to speak, even as we spoke. I realized my cause was hopeless, except perhaps for the man across the street; he is from Guatemala, and, not being American, is much friendlier. I bade Judy a good day, and returned to my house, to the air conditioning, to the computer, and to thousands of people who are my true friends, because they have me on their friend list, I have them on mine, and I think I will have to wait a long time before my physical neighbors click on the "like" button.