Neighbors

Ten years ago, an Italian-Canadian called Eugene bought the house next door - the one to the left of the green one, which is mine. He started off hating me for the two 20' shipping containers in my back yard, even though they were there when he bought the place. He kept asking when I was getting rid of them; I said "never, especially because some asshole complained to City Hall and I had therefore gotten building permits for them and now paid property tax on them."

Eugene seemed to hate vegetation; he ripped out the cedar tree, the yew, and the boxwood hedge between us. He was afraid somebody would set the hedge on fire and burn him down, or it would provide cover for criminal activity. Meanwhile, I planted my entire backyard to timber bamboo, some of which is as tall as the roof peak in only its second year.

Eugene, who is about 40, wants to become a real RCMP officer instead of a wannabeacop auxiliary like he is now. He sucked up to me to say something nice to the RCMP investigator who asked me about him.

Starting in May, I put my squawking macaw in the yard for an hour a day. I bought the bird in 1965, but she lived with my Mother until recently. I gave Chico to Mom because they would not let me keep her in the student residence at UBC. Her husband of the time objected, but she divorced Al and kept the parrot.

In June, my tenant/workman, Terry, began painting (see above - used to be all grey) and, suddenly, a "For Sale" sign appeared next door.

Eugene, who lived with his wife in the basement suite, did not even cut the grass; he sold as if in a panic.

He got $520,000, but the hatred flowed over the fence like poison gas.

On June 29, his father, mother and sister were harvesting our cherry tree, which is 80% on public property, when I took a picture from my porch.

Eugene's father threatened to beat me up, I called the police, they left, the cops arrived.

I showed the RCMP my picture of the guy and his licence number. Also my ID and geezer card (senior citizen identification).

I said they should go talk to him and tell him that threatening senior citizens with a beating was just not on, and they said they would do that.

By July 3, Eugenio next door, the son of the belligerent cherry picker, had sold but still had not left. He was shouting something about "My neighbor is a prick" in his yard, as he moved his stuff.

Sitting on my porch, I asked when the buyers would take possession, to which he replied that I was a fuckin' idiot. I asked why he has hated me for the last 5 years, because I really would like to know. His reply was a frothing rant without any focus except that I was the reason he was moving. Also that I am a sick and twisted individual who takes pictures of people.

I laughed at the notion that he spent so much money to get away from me. I also said that I take photos of people and lots of other things, that I put pictures on the internet and that I would send him my blog.

I went inside and had just sent him the url of my blog , when a policeman arrived. I invited the cop inside and asked the nature of the complaint. He failed to put it into words, but apparently Eugene had had an attack of paranoia about my having a blog.

I doubt if it was a 911 call; Eugene likely just called his buddy on the force by cell phone to go bother Erickson.

I laughed and showed the policeman <http://ken-ericksons.blogspot.com/>, last entry on May 27th about the parrot. Also stuff in iphoto - the cherry picker and lots of birds.

Last I saw the cop, he was speaking to my raging neighbor and his wife out on the street.