One of my favorite (and by favorite I mean “best alternative when I am feeling homicidal”) things to do at night is to drive up, down and around the streets of my neighborhood. It gives me a feel for what is going on if even just for that fleeting moment when I take my eyes off the road and assess what is happening around me. On these less-frequent-than-over-the-past-few-years-but-not-all-together-absent excursions I, with a nearly 100% success rate, feel better by the time I pull back into my own driveway.
Those of us who are of a certain age will recognize this as the true Knight Rider. Younger folks might not…which is why I was good enough to explain.
As I weave through the streets, I take a mental inventory (that sounds creepier than it is) of who (based solely upon the cars in the driveway) is home, who is having work done to the house and who should be having work done to the house I find myself thinking less about whatever event drove me to seek refuge in my car and more about what is happening for other folks. We all get so wrapped up in whatever mishegas* we are dealing with that we teeter dangerously close to being totally self-absorbed and, as a result, forgetting about the people we surround ourselves with – even if just by proximity.
Driving along one street, I think of my friend who, during the school year, I see most mornings at the gym but, given both of our altered summer schedules with the kids, haven’t seen since school got out. I wonder how things are going with his three kids, his wife and where they might be this summer. Aside from sporadic Facebook updates by his wife and seeing that his car in the driveway, I only know they are in town…but that is all I know. I remind myself to shoot him a text to check in.
I pass by another house, the lights in the master bedroom still burning, and think of how they are coping and planning for their daughter’s upcoming surgery. While I talk to the house’s owner nearly every day and have a fairly good grasp on where her head is, I do wonder if she and her husband are discussing it as I drive by, her none the wiser to my roaming the streets. (Until now, that is.)
How are things going with the lesbian neighbor whose wife recently left her for a man? And that damn dog that barks incessantly all night – did I just discover where it lives? Wow, that is a hell of an addition going on that house – are they adding a family room or a new kitchen or an in-law suite for their ailing parents? Do they even have ailing parents? I notice that ours is not the only overgrown lawn and ponder whether it is a sign of laziness or of being too overwhelmed to be bothered by something as benign as grass. That looks like a new car in the driveway – must have been a good year judging by the make and model. I think about how the kid in another house is doing since being busted having a huge house party when his folks were out-of-town. (I had forgotten all about that…I suspect his parents have not.)
But the real thrill happens when I drive by (again, as uncreepily as possible) and can actually see into the house and catch a snippet of what goes on behind closed doors. I’ve seen dinner parties in progress. I’ve noticed folks with their feet up watching television. There have been sightings of people getting up and taking themselves to another room in the house. Where are they headed? What are they doing? Where is their head?
I catch a glimpse into windows of homes I know as well as my own and others I have never been in.** I comment to myself (‘cause it would be weird to say it aloud, all alone in my car) about the décor, or the color of the walls or the cool chandelier. And, in the process, I notice that my anxiety has dissipated. My homicidal urges are quelled. While I have bolted from (er, I mean calmly left) my house, assured (falsely) that I am the only one who has a complicated life, I am given a virtual slap upside the head and reminded that everyone has a life (admittedly, some more complicated than others) that they are leading with hopes for little more than happiness and contentedness.
I suspect I am not the only night rider around.*** I am just the one who admits it and, in the process, have likely creeped a few people out. Let me assure you: I am not a voyeur, rather I am curious, compassionate and finding whatever way possible to stay connected…even if just in my heart.
*That’s Yiddish for craziness.
** If I have not been invited in as of yet, I suspect this entry just sealed that deal.
*** My old friend Betsy, who taught me the art of looking into other’s windows, is most certainly one, too.
Me. You. Us. 
For years Elana and I passed a house on Newton Street that never had a shade pulled down. Due to the position of the house and its windows we could see directly into the kitchen. Often we could see that whoever lived there had been food shopping or what they were eating for dinner. For years we fantasized about who lived there, what the rest of the house looked like and who put the groceries away. No, we never saw a person in that kitchen. Now fast forward to Elana’s high school years and imagine our surprise when Elana brought home Mike, who actually lived in that very same house we had watched for years! Mike and his sister became very close to Elana and to me. (Their mother died when they were in high school and their nickname for me still is “other mother”.) Mike was Elana’s prom date and his sister was Elana’s apartment mate. Elana of course did get to see all the other rooms in that house, and one day when I drove by she waved to me from that very same kitchen. I guess all houses have stories to tell and you never know when you’ll become a part of one!
I love that story!
What a cool story!
Reminds me of when on an all girls trip to Paris with my mom , myself and my two oldest girls who were only 11 and 12 at the time. We had a small room with a tiny balcony on the top floor(6h . We would sit out there’d and watch and narrate what was happening across the way… An elderly man, we surmised was writing letters to his grandsons about the sailing trip and boats he was on etc… All due to seeing him at a desk and being able to view what was on his walls!!! Did it for a few of the apartment windows… Am ready to go back to Paris with a view anytime!!
And of course love rear window by Hitchcock .. Classic!
Paris, even without a view would be nice, too!
Loved this and had such a crush on David Hasselhoff, “Knight Rider”, posters all over my room!
You are so New England! We have a different form of “nosy”!!! Called”just lookin” lol Move to Florida…no one cares to even know their neighbor…let alone “really” know their neighbor! Hope Jess is having a great Summer…Nice and honest post!
I, too always drive around to quell my homicidal tendencies. 😉
We were in your hood yesterday! At the froyo place you recommended the last time I commented (back in April, boy I need to comment more often!). You were right. It was awesome.