Meeting Our Neighbors

I am, for the first time in a while, new in town.

This isn't an unfamiliar or uncomfortable position. Moving, becoming part of the community, and falling into the rhythms of a new place (even if it's only a few neighborhoods away from your old place) are joyful activities, at least for me and ones I've actively sought in my adult life.

But, after being dug in like a tick at our old place in Denver for the past few years and, we’re now moved out of the city and immediate vicinity of our friends and find ourselves now in a new house, in a new small town, on a block of homes filled with people who are currently strangers to us.

This cannot stand.

We live here now - if the many boxes I've unpacked wasn't a clue, maybe the 30-year mortgage was - so it's important we establish a relationship with the people we'll be begging sugar off when we start baking a cake and realize we don't have any. (Has anyone actually ever borrowed sugar from a neighbor? Why is this the stereotypical neighbor borrowing item?)

We have no excuses either. The previous owner did the classy thing and left us a letter on the counter that ran through all of our immediate neighbors with a quick overview - the summary is that they're all a delight.

So something must be done. A simple door knock could work, but I want to make a bit more of a splash and impart some key information about Macy and I at the same time.

To do that, I'm writing them an introduction letter and hand delivering it.

Side rant: One of the ironies of small town life - having grown up in one and then spent most of my adult life in large cities - is that the infrastructure is built in many ways to isolate. In cities, density does the work for you: step outside and you're already part of the block. It's not always part of the conversation when people talk about moving to a small town or suburb, but it's real - the infrastructure can isolate you just as effectively as moving to the middle of nowhere. I feel it with this move. I could go years simply getting into my car in my garage, driving to my destination, and coming back without ever having interacted with a neighbor. Treating the house like a castle, never welcoming in the other lords and ladies. It shouldn't be this way - but if you live in a small town in the US or Canada, too often it is, reinforced by deeper societal trends towards isolation and loneliness. We don't hang out anymore. The barriers are there, just unseen.

We've been fortunate to be able to pick a small town where those barriers are broken by good pedestrian and biking infrastructure, city parks, and a main strip - restaurants, bars, shops - that's genuinely community-friendly. We walk and bike many places, and the neighbors are out doing the same.

So to break the seal on getting chummy with my neighbors, I drafted our letter - a packed, two-sided introduction covering what brought us to town, who we are, and what we'd love from them (say hi when you see us, and a recommendation for a good mechanic if they have one) - and attached a "One Free Neighbor Favor" business card to each. Macy and I will then go door to door to canvass the immediate neighbors and introduce ourselves. If they're not home they'll get the letter as a standing introduction, and when they are we'll be able to quickly exchange numbers, give them a bit of information about what we're about - and introduce Nora.

I'll be running this little experiment over the next few weeks and reporting back on whether we're any friendlier with the neighbors by then.

In the comments I'd love to hear how you've endeared yourself to new neighbors - and what you'd drop off for them. Cookies? But so many people have dietary restrictions. Flowers? Kinda lame, right? Signed sports memorabilia - who has that many John Elway posters?