Won't You Be My Neighbor?

Mark thinks that I'm too nosy. Just because I know a lot of things that go on up and down our block, he calls me Mrs. Kravitz. It is true that I know that the Vietnamese family that bought the house from the fireman at the end of the block, is buying the house next door from Pedro, who is from Peru and wants to move to Florida, but can't because his family is now scared since all the hurricanes hit, so he'll probably end up moving to Skokie instead. But I'm not nosy. All that was freely told to me by all involved. I only prodded a little bit. Okay, so I just might be a bit of a busy body. I like my neighborhood and I like my neighbors. I don't know if they like me. They might think I'm a bit odd. For instance, I planted flowers on my neighbor's front porch so that it wouldn't look so forlorn next to mine. It turned out that they liked the flowers. I sure do, it keeps the place from looking like a slumlord owns it. I also have been known to walk up and down the block with a big, orange Home Depot bucket, picking up trash. I cannot stand trash on the street. Then there's the neighbor on the other side of me. For the first month of summer last year, I watched as his grass grew longer and longer. I would mow my lawn and from the street it looked stupid, so I mowed his lawn. I've been mowing it ever since. Most people think I mow it because the guy is old and works like twelve hours a day, but that's not it. I'm older than him and I don't give a shit how many hours he works. I just could not stand seeing all the weeds and long grass anymore. Maybe next year I'll stick some flowers in front of his house too.