Being Neighborly
One of my favorite activities is walking and seeing my neighbors. It’s a simple activity that is pleasurable and beneficial.
Sometimes I will pass a person who is looking down at their cellphone, MP3 player or other device and when I say, “Hello,” they are taken aback. They have become so used to being insular that the simple gesture throws them.
Sometimes I will pass a person who is looking down at their cellphone, MP3 player or other device and when I say, “Hello,” they are taken aback. They have become so used to being insular that the simple gesture throws them.
Other neighbors respond favorably and are happy to hold real conversations with real people, not just a computer screen.
I find that for everyone who is glued to their technological devices, there are an equal amount of people who would prefer to engage in conversation.
My neighbors are from all over the world, Spain, Hungary, Russia, India, Scotland, Cyprus, England, Australia, France - just to name a few. It’s like having the United Nations in my own backyard with representatives each with unique stories to tell.
I spoke to one neighbor from Kiev, Ukraine by the name of Vasyl. He’s about 75 years old, he was an industrial engineer before he retired and a long distance runner, but now wears a pacemaker.
One day he told me the story of when he was a refugee in Siberia during World War II. He was 3 years old and Germany had invaded Kiev. His father died shortly after he was born.
Everyday his mother would bake several loaves of bread. When the bombing started, she would grab the bread and took him, his brother and sister to the bomb shelter.
She read them stories from several books as bombs obliterated the city landscape. She didn’t stop until the bombs ceased.
She did this for three years before the war ended. Once she even risked her life and ventured to the train station to find her starving relatives.
Food was very scare in some parts of the country and her relatives looked like skeletons. She almost didn’t recognize them. She quickly took them and fed them fresh bread that she had stuffed in her coat pockets.
My neighbor is a bright raconteur who has lived all over the world in war and peace. He has a son who is a multimedia professor and a daughter-in-law who is a professor of neurology at top American universities.
They have given him a grandson and a granddaughter who he absolutely loves.
Every time I see him, he tells me about his grandchildren. Although his health is failing and he walks slowly, he always has a smile on his face and says, “Life is good.”
I find it intriguing that he reads BBC online, Russian and Ukrainian newspapers to find out what's going on in America. My neighbor is a treasure and we have only touched the surface.
We forget that people lead interesting lives. They are books in themselves with happy and tragic chapters.
We are all unique stories of God.
We would rather peer into our neighbor's window to see what they are doing instead of asking them how they are doing.
Talking to the neighbors is not only good exercise for your tongue, but a great way that you can spread love. Often times people want to know that someone else cares about them.
Talk to your neighbors and you will find hidden treasures. Try it. Read more...
