Let’s talk about neighbors. Not the friendly kind who borrow a cup of sugar. I’m talking about the other kind. The one who keeps flicking lit matches over the fence into your dry backyard.
You try talking to them. You point out the danger. You remind them of the basic rules of living next to other human beings. Maybe you even call the authorities, but they find some loophole, some excuse. Nothing changes. The matches keep coming.
The piece I wrote before, “The Carpenter’s House,” was about the guy tearing down his own fire escape because he didn’t think he’d ever need it. That’s one kind of problem – a profound lack of foresight.
But what do you do about the neighbor who isn’t just neglecting his own safety, but is actively trying to set your house on fire?
This is where the quiet observation has to end. This is where the polite warnings become useless. When someone is deliberately trying to burn down the neighborhood, hoping the fire department won’t show up in time, you can’t just keep fixing your fence. You have to confront the arsonist.
Now, I’m not talking about violence. Blood doesn’t make good mortar. But I am talking about making them profoundly uncomfortable. I’m talking about making them feel the consequences of their actions in a way they cannot ignore.
It means showing up. Persistently. It means knocking on their door, day after day, not to argue, but simply to remind them: “I see you. I know what you’re doing. And I am not going away.” It means making their quiet little act of destruction a very public and very inconvenient affair. Maybe you start documenting every match they throw. Maybe you make sure all the other neighbors see it too. You make their attempt to burn your house down cost them something – their peace, their anonymity, their comfortable denial.
Our old military unit’s mantra was, ‘It is better to sweat in peace than it is to bleed in war.’ This kind of persistent, non-violent confrontation? This is the sweat. It’s uncomfortable. It feels messy. It feels like it shouldn’t be necessary. But it is necessary when you’re dealing with someone who only respects force, or the inescapable pressure of being held accountable.
It’s the hard work you do now, the difficult conversations, the uncomfortable standoffs, that prevents the need for a much uglier fight later when the whole damn block is on fire. You don’t chase them into a corner; you chase them out into the light where everyone can see what they are. I am just saying, sometimes you can get people’s attention by marching up and down the avenue, sometimes you just have to go to their home and wake them up; make them help you either put out the fire, or be held accountable by the community they endanger.
In the words of the great President “Teddy” Theodore Roosevelt, “Speak softly, and carry a big stick”.
In the words of Jim, “Your right to swing your fist ends where my nose begins”.
Thank you, Jim. Your friendship has been and remains invaluable.