Home Sweet Home

We had our first big snowstorm since moving into our house in early December. It was gorgeous and magical - but we don't have a super to shovel it for us!

Jack watching Nicole brush off her car Friday, before the big storm

Saturday morning

Nicole said she wouldn't mind shoveling if I came outside to be with her. So we bundled up and headed out early Saturday morning.

 Nicole is thrilled

me offering moral support

While outside, we met all three neighbors that we border - but not one of them said hello first! I've been in NYC for 8.5 years and still sometimes struggle with the fact that neighbors don't wave and say hello when you walk or drive by. I saw the man next to us out shoveling and he kept sort of glancing over at us, so I smiled and said, "Good morning!" He returned the greeting and then asked us how we like the neighborhood, etc. Then we saw the neighbor to our left, an older man who was huffing and puffing red-cheeked over his snowblower and sort of stuttering out an apology as snow arced over us. 

Then we went to the back to shovel that piece of sidewalk. (Our driveway goes out into the side street, behind the corner house next to us.) To our delight, we noticed our small section of the sidewalk and our driveway up to Nicole's car had been snowblown! So we just had to shovel the small amount that gets left behind. I noticed the neighbor wife behind us out on her lawn sort of looking at us, so after a continued silence, I again initiated contact by saying, "Good morning!" She struck up conversation with us, introducing herself and welcoming us to the neighborhood. It turns out she was outside as a moral-supporter too, while her husband was down the block helping the elderly neighbor. Nicole asked if he was the one who had done our driveway, and she said yes. How considerate!! We thanked her profusely and chatted while we brushed snow off the car.

It's amazing how friendly, warm, and welcoming people can be when you push past their initial suspicious nature. They're curious but don't want to be the first ones to reach out. Are they afraid of rejection, that they'll be ignored or that someone will be rude to them? I'm not sure. It's a headscratcher to me. But this southern girl will get to these hardened New Yorkers, just you wait. I'm planning to bake cookies for the neighbor behind us to show our appreciation for the snow help. Resist me. Go ahead, I dare you.

I still remember the shock and slight suspicion on my neighbors' faces in our last apartment when I brought each family on our hall a bag of from-scratch Christmas cookies. And I brought my rabbi half of the sticky toffee pudding I'd made the afternoon of one of our meetings so that she could take it home to her husband and daughter. It warmed her through to her lap because it had just come out of the oven. And my second year here, as my internship was coming to an end, I bought a cake for the nice guys at Subway who made my day with their kindness when I went there for lunch every day. I only didn't bake them cookies because my cubicle-neighbor said, "awww, sweet girl - they're not going to trust that. They'll think they're poisoned and throw them away. You don't just give store employees baked treats. It's not normal, and you'll waste your energy because they won't eat them." Whaaaa? Devastated.

My mama taught me manners, my culture taught me civility, and I firmly believe that baking from scratch with real butter is an expression of love. No amount of time here will turn me into a snubber, much to Nicole's embarrassed chagrin. I need community around me. This neighborhood will be MY neighborhood - I will conquer it yet!