Another Vacancy, Book II
No, no one passed away this time (for those who remember the original entry). Just another case of South Florida transiency. I mentioned that our previous upstairs neighbors had moved out last August. They had recently had a baby and bought a house. About a month later, we had new neighbors. A young couple: him, of Russian descent (but darned if he didn't look Scandanavian to me), her, a full Italian. Her father, in fact, owns a swanky Italian restaurant on the pensinsula of Palm Beach. He's quite personable; I chanced to meet him on Christmas Day. The young lady left us a nice note shortly after her arrival, stating that she was happy to be there.
Our couple, however, was rather combustible. From almost the first week, anxious voices (mostly hers) were audible through our ceiling. The words were not always intelligible, but it was apparent all was not well. Like many troubled couples, they were able to put on a happy face when we saw them in the courtyard, or in the driveway.
There was also this business of their schedules. She was on wait staff at her dad's place at night. This usually meant that she would return home at about 2 A.M., often with friends in tow. Lots of laughter, a few "Oh my God"s, raggae music. The music was so loud a few weeks back that I had to knock on their door after sitting in disbelief for a few minutes. The young lady was ultra-apologetic and the music wasn't just lowered, but turned off.
But, oh, those fights. Over the months they got worse. The words were becoming clearer. I had also heard their intimacy (one of the debits of apartment living, lemme tell ya) a few times, but the arguments were more frequent. The fiery Italian side was in full force (I'm part Italian) on her part and we knew it was only a matter of time before something would break.
My wife and I voiced our concern to each other, but intervention is often unwise. We were concerned but knew not to interfere. I saw a lot of myself in this couple. At least, my early twenty-something self: the rootlessness, the casual morality, the attitude, the lack of funds. A part of me wanted to sit them down, but who am I to impart wisdom? I've matured quite a bit in 20 years but it's still in progress (ask my wife).
Additionally, we hardly saw these people. We never got a chance to hang out with them, never even going inside their apartment. That's regrettable. We were very friendly with them, save the night I came home and found that I had nowhere to park as there were several vehicles parked everywhere in the driveway and about. Seems there was a little soiree happenin'. I had several bags of groceries and I wasn't happy to see this. The young man came out and even offered to help but I was scowling by this point, and continued to do so when I saw a group of their friends partying in our front courtyard. I felt badly about my (uncharacteristic) sour disposition afterward, as they all looked embrarrassed and apologetic, and I was the archetype of the grouchy old coot who warns the kids to stay offa his lawn. Thankfully, it was a one-time incident on all sides.
We also gave the young lady a Christmas gift, which she adored (a ceramic dolphin, a re-gift). It turns out she loves dolphins and even had some sort of dolphin motif in her apartment.
But mainly it was just a series of comings and goings, smiles, "hey how ya doing" and little more. Not much different than with our previous neighbors, honestly. I blame myself, as I tend to be a very private person. I'm not always enthusiastic about socializing, even with those who share our street. When I think of all the lost opportunities, it's humbling. It's not uncommon, though. When visiting a friend in Burbank some years ago I asked about why I didn't see a soul milling about the hood. "People don't do that here. If a neighbor said hi to me I would probably call the police." Ergh.
A few weeks ago, the young man moved out. The couple had split. There was a loud party that evening. May have been coincidental, maybe not. On Monday this week, there was a FOR RENT sign on our lawn. I came home also to see the lady and her friends hauling furniture. She explained that she is going to live with her cousin, then up to North Carolina when "the season" ends here in FL. Her father also has a restuarant up there. She thanked my wife and me for our friendliness, but I felt we had failed her just the same. As we had all along, we prayed for her (and her newly ex). We hoped that we had some positive impact. We also hope to get to know whoever the new tenants are a bit better.
I mainly wrote this to document a period, something to look back on years from now. To recall, to hopefully see how I've grown. That's what journals should do best, I believe.
Our couple, however, was rather combustible. From almost the first week, anxious voices (mostly hers) were audible through our ceiling. The words were not always intelligible, but it was apparent all was not well. Like many troubled couples, they were able to put on a happy face when we saw them in the courtyard, or in the driveway.
There was also this business of their schedules. She was on wait staff at her dad's place at night. This usually meant that she would return home at about 2 A.M., often with friends in tow. Lots of laughter, a few "Oh my God"s, raggae music. The music was so loud a few weeks back that I had to knock on their door after sitting in disbelief for a few minutes. The young lady was ultra-apologetic and the music wasn't just lowered, but turned off.
But, oh, those fights. Over the months they got worse. The words were becoming clearer. I had also heard their intimacy (one of the debits of apartment living, lemme tell ya) a few times, but the arguments were more frequent. The fiery Italian side was in full force (I'm part Italian) on her part and we knew it was only a matter of time before something would break.
My wife and I voiced our concern to each other, but intervention is often unwise. We were concerned but knew not to interfere. I saw a lot of myself in this couple. At least, my early twenty-something self: the rootlessness, the casual morality, the attitude, the lack of funds. A part of me wanted to sit them down, but who am I to impart wisdom? I've matured quite a bit in 20 years but it's still in progress (ask my wife).
Additionally, we hardly saw these people. We never got a chance to hang out with them, never even going inside their apartment. That's regrettable. We were very friendly with them, save the night I came home and found that I had nowhere to park as there were several vehicles parked everywhere in the driveway and about. Seems there was a little soiree happenin'. I had several bags of groceries and I wasn't happy to see this. The young man came out and even offered to help but I was scowling by this point, and continued to do so when I saw a group of their friends partying in our front courtyard. I felt badly about my (uncharacteristic) sour disposition afterward, as they all looked embrarrassed and apologetic, and I was the archetype of the grouchy old coot who warns the kids to stay offa his lawn. Thankfully, it was a one-time incident on all sides.
We also gave the young lady a Christmas gift, which she adored (a ceramic dolphin, a re-gift). It turns out she loves dolphins and even had some sort of dolphin motif in her apartment.
But mainly it was just a series of comings and goings, smiles, "hey how ya doing" and little more. Not much different than with our previous neighbors, honestly. I blame myself, as I tend to be a very private person. I'm not always enthusiastic about socializing, even with those who share our street. When I think of all the lost opportunities, it's humbling. It's not uncommon, though. When visiting a friend in Burbank some years ago I asked about why I didn't see a soul milling about the hood. "People don't do that here. If a neighbor said hi to me I would probably call the police." Ergh.
A few weeks ago, the young man moved out. The couple had split. There was a loud party that evening. May have been coincidental, maybe not. On Monday this week, there was a FOR RENT sign on our lawn. I came home also to see the lady and her friends hauling furniture. She explained that she is going to live with her cousin, then up to North Carolina when "the season" ends here in FL. Her father also has a restuarant up there. She thanked my wife and me for our friendliness, but I felt we had failed her just the same. As we had all along, we prayed for her (and her newly ex). We hoped that we had some positive impact. We also hope to get to know whoever the new tenants are a bit better.
I mainly wrote this to document a period, something to look back on years from now. To recall, to hopefully see how I've grown. That's what journals should do best, I believe.
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