LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth |
CAMP Out: Fay's Rehoboth Journal - Now this is a privacy issue... |
by Fay Jacobs |
I had no idea I was at the center of the universe. Now dont indict me as an egocentric dolt. Im talking about my house. By the number of times Ive heard, "Drove past your house, whats with those trees?" I think my house is the bulls eye on the dartboard thats Rehoboth. For the record, the bucketed trees will be planted just as soon as Mother Nature takes us off broil. And yes, were watering daily. But the point is, our house is on the shortcut to everywhere. And since it used to be a model home, not only do thousands of people know where it is, most of them have been inside. With gum on their shoes, to look at the carpet. Im surprised theres no Beach Evacuation Route sign on the lawn. Going to Lowes? Take a left after my house. Need groceries? Pass Fays and hang right. Sure, theres Route One and One-D, but people have embraced the FayJ Bypass. Fact is, everybody watches this house. When we moved in, we didnt have to tell a soul. Everybody said, "I see youre in the house." Heck, I didnt even have to re-route the mail. The carrier, on his way to K Mart, saw wed arrived and took care of it himself. Of course, being shortcut central has its advantages. I love that people stop by on their way to and from town. I should have a sign: "Last bathroom before bridge." Heck, I could serve food and advertise "last gas before bridge." Its unbelievable how many people ride by, then ask about the trees, the new garage door opener, whats with all the junk in the garage and whether were buying a riding mower so Bonnie can stop trudging the north forty. Ive heard of neighborhood watch but this is waaay more intense. Which is all pretty ironic when we think back to Memorial Day when we couldnt get an occupancy permit to move in. Finally, we declared squatters rights and moved in anyway. But being the goody-twoshoes I am, I was appalled at the illegality of it all. I agreed to sleep in the house, but refused to put sheets on the beds or shed my clothes on the off-chance somebody would find out and raid the place. Then, I could claim we were just arranging furniture when we accidentally fell asleep on the sofa. So we tip-toed around in the dark, hoping no one would notice we were there. Ha! Everyone knew we were there because my house is constantly under surveillance. Even new acquaintances, asking where we live, exclaim "I know that house!!!" And why is my house so infamous? Well, not only do thousands of people pass it every day to skirt Route One, but its also on the ugliest lot in America. Im sure that every single person who admits driving by the house has also asked themselves "who the hell would buy a house on a lot like that?" Our beautiful little house came with one scrawny tree and a back yard only a prison guard could love. Alcatraz had less barbed wire than my backyard. Its so ugly I begged my parents to visit us for the first time after dark. They could have filmed The Rock here. For the few of you who dont realize that you know which house I bought, its that former model home, on the corner where you always turn, overlooking a self-storage lot, rusty buildings and final resting place for RVs and boat trailers. "Aha! I know which model house that is!" youre saying. Let me assure you, as new owners of Leavenworth East, were bigtime into camouflage. In fact, owing to the constant stake-out, we got calls last week from friends complimenting us on our new fence even before wed been home to see it had been installed. (Though wed been expecting it for weeks. I now know that around here, when a service company tells you theyre coming Monday, you need to ask which Monday.) Besides the fence, people notice everything on this corner. "Saw that Eddie Bauer package on the stoop. Whatd ya order?" (Shorts.) "Can the hot tub work on a hill like that?" (We dragged it to even ground!) "When are you going to weed?" (Saturday, wanna help?) Yesterday I got a message from a customer service rep at the trash company. "I was driving by and saw that you didnt have your container out. Dont forget, its trash day." Jeeeesh! And while I really love all the drive-bys and visitors, the privacy ramifications are daunting. If I sneak home early from work I get, "Hey, what were you doing home at 4 p.m.????" or the corollary, "Slept in today, I see." Its a cinch that nobody in this household is going to try and conceal any clandestine behavior. That means you, Moxieno fooling around with the Sheltie across the street, or it will be all over the press. And speaking of our local media and loss of privacy, along with my self-inflicted revelations by way of this column, now, thanks to my new job, my every move makes copy. As part of the Cape Gazettes July 4th wrap-up, the world heard that I broke my toe that morningnews I had thought would only be of interest to my right foot. But thanks for all the inquiries, folks. Im feeling much better as my toe works its way through all the colors on Murrays courtyard fence. Of course, the good news, at least about being ground zero for neighborhood watch, is that we dont need a burglar alarm. Last week as Bonnie and I rushed to go downtown, we both walked out without keys. Desperate, we scoped out the side of the house, and discovered a skinny little open window. I was giving Bonnie a lift (I know you didnt expect me to shinny into the house) when friends passed by in time to see me give my mate a power-assist goose into the window. It says volumes about how weird people expect us to be, that they just honked, waved and continued on their way. Smile, burglars, youll be on candid camera. So the drive-bys continue. Now that everyones seen the fence, they wanna know about landscaping. Yes, we are plan-ting 6-foot Leyland Cypress trees along the scenic barbed wire. Since they grow like beanstalks, my backyard prison exercise pen should be totally obliterated some time in 2003. So if youre on your way anywhere, stop in, say, "Hi." Or just wave and be on your way. But just remember this epicenter thing works both ways. As I sit at the computer writing this column, I have a perfect view of the street in front of the house. In fact, Ive waved at several people I know within the last half hour. "Hey, what were you doing out last night at 11:30 heading toward.????" Heres watching you, Bunky. Fays Rehoboth Journal, an award winning column, is a regular feature of Letters from CAMP Rehoboth. |
LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth, Vol. 9, No. 9, July 16, 1999 |