We had a wonderful time, cupcake
The houses in our neighborhood are turning over again.
The family next door moved after living there for twenty years. Their son received a scholarship to pitch for one of the nationally ranked college baseball teams, and his parents couldn’t resist seizing a 300 percent profit on the sale of their house and moving to Florida to watch him play. Neither husband nor wife had a job waiting, but they were able to pay cash for a larger home and have a cushion to boot. Not having a mortgage allows one to face the future with equanimity.
Two other households were riven by divorce, thankfully long after the children had left home.
Gil moved to the Sierra foothills and still prepares tax returns for clients in the Bay Area; we send him a Christmas card every year while he sends us a box of fruit preserves, an unequal exchange that makes me feel guilty during the holidays. We really must remember to pick up some size 13 flip-flops on our next trip to Hawaii; Gil insists that the ones found in California stores just won’t do.
Ginny relocated to Redwood Shores. She was just starting to learn contract bridge when she moved away and now plays all the time. I suffered from bridge addiction when I was in college, and I fear that it has claimed another victim. Earlier this year I played in a bridge tournament for the first time in a decade, and I wasn’t too surprised to see her there.
When the elderly couple at the end of our block divorced, it took us all by surprise. It’s not that they appeared particularly happy, it’s just that, given the vicissitudes of age, it requires motivation, fortitude, and energy to undertake a major, voluntary life change. The wife continued to live in the house, and she succumbed to age-related illnesses last year.
When Wally, who bought the house from Gil and Ginny, proposed an impromptu block party on July 4th, we readily agreed, as did all the neighbors in our cul-de-sac. It was finally time for all of us to learn each other’s names. Wally supplied the grill, the hamburgers, hot dogs, and corn; Diana marinated some chicken breasts and brought the dessert; we brought the salad, watermelon, and utensils.
Wally starts the barbecue while I get the fire extinguisher ready
We invited Eliane, who lost her husband in May, and were pleased that she overcame her initial hesitation to join us for lunch. Eliane eventually spent almost the entire afternoon with us.
The kids began throwing water balloons at each other. When the balloons ran out, the conflict escalated to buckets, finally hoses, revealing an essential truth about human nature: in the heat of battle it is nearly impossible to exercise restraint.
The kids also shot off party “poppers”, which created an incredible mess on Wally’s lawn and driveway. Thank goodness the party was held on his property and not on ours.
Later that evening many of our neighbors joined us on the Beach Park overpass to watch Foster City’s annual fireworks display. © 2004 Stephen Yuen
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