When we lived on the farm, our closest neighbour was about a half a mile away, and we co-existed in harmony. Now that we have moved into the small town of Wilkie, our neighbours are a lot closer. Fortunately for us, our house is on three lots occupying a quiet corner.
My earliest recollection of having neighbours goes back to the late 1940s. My twin brother Kjell and I ended up in a three-way relationship with a young female specimen of the same age as us. Her name was Grete and she lived next door. The three of us were very close, playing together in the yard. We would crawl around in the dirt on our bellies looking for morsels. Kjell couldn’t digest a newt, but Grete and I had no problem dispatching earth worms.
As our relationship flourished and having observed how Mom and Dad would show affection with a kiss, Kjell and I discussed this and decided that we had to do the same with Grete. Kjell being 10 minutes older than me, said that he had to kiss Grete first. One sunny afternoon, Kjell surprised Grete with a quick buzz on the lips, but I didn’t get the chance because Grete’s mom called her to come in. The next day, however, I puckered my lips, closed my eyes, and leaned towards Grete, who pulled back her head and said: “Yuck!” Love thy neighbour!
I think of the years that I lived in the city of Edmonton with close neighbours on either side, across the street and across the back lane as well. Everybody knew what everybody else was doing. My bachelor garden was not as well tended to as my neighbour’s green and lush gardens, and I kept getting hints as to what I should do about the weeds, but I was a busy insurance broker and didn’t have time to heed the various neighbourly advice. I remember one time when I came home very late and totally exhausted after a long hard day’s work, and fell asleep only to wake up the next morning to a beautiful, totally weeded garden! Love thy neighbour!
A clerk at our insurance office related to us her own version of ‘love thy neighbour.’ The family next door owned a toy poodle. The dog, however, was allowed to run loose, even though there was no fence in either the back or the front yard of their house. The poodle always came onto our clerk’s lawn to do his business. She got tired of stepping in dog doo-doo whenever she mowed her lawn, and she went next door to have a friendly chat with her neighbours, asking them to please pick up after their dog, or chain up the dog so that it would not mess up her lawn. Her request fell on deaf ears, so she took the matter into her own hands. Well, not quite her hands, as she used a shovel. On a very hot and sunny day, she took the plastic bag of dog poop that she had gathered, went down the street and emptied the bag on the driver’s seat of their nice Cadillac. The poodle never messed up her lawn again. Love thy neighbour!
Knut was in his front yard mowing grass when Lena, his attractive blonde female neighbour, came out of the house and went straight to the mailbox. She opened it, then closed it and went back inside the house. A little while later, Lena came out of her house again and went to the mail box. She opened and shut it again. Angrily, she stomped back into the house. As Knut was getting ready to edge his lawn, Lena came out again, marched to the mail box, opened it and then slammed it shut harder than ever. Puzzled by her actions, Knut got her attention and asked her: "Is something wrong Lena?" She crossed her arms in front of her, took a deep breath and said: "There certainly is!” With tears welling up in her eyes she continued: “My stupid computer keeps saying: 'You've got mail!'" Love thy neighbour!
Sven and Ole were neighbours, and one day, Sven was digging a hole in his front lawn. Ole watched him for a while, then he sauntered over and said, “Hey Sven, what are you doing?” Sven straightened up his back, leaned on his shovel and answered, “I’m digging a hole, what does it look like I’m doing?” “Hmm,” said Ole, “what’s wrong with the hole next to it?” “Well, said Sven, “That hole just wasn’t deep enough!” Love thy neighbour!
Ole was enjoying a nice cup of coffee with his wife Lena on a Saturday morning after a hard week’s work. His young son, Knut, and one of his friends burst through the front door and ran to the kitchen. “Dad! Dad!” said Knut urgently, “have you met our new neighbours yet?” “No, not yet,” said Ole. “You have to come outside and meet our new neighbours!” said Knut. “No, no!” answered Ole, “let me enjoy my morning coffee with Mom!” “Dad, you have to come!” urged Knut. “Nah! Some other time,” said Ole, “I’m busy talking with Mom!” “Come on, Dad! You have to meet them!” Knut’s voice was getting very urgent, so Ole assumed that they were waiting outside to meet him. Ole set down his coffee cup, and went outside to the front lawn. There was nobody there, so he turned to Knut and asked, “where are they?” “Well Dad,” said Knut, “we haven’t met them yet either, but our baseball is in their living room!” Love thy neighbour!
