We Don't Even Know Our Neighbors

Written by Summer Intern Rosie Atkinson-- A few days ago, my dad and I were asked to attend a very special get together at a friend’s house. Moses, a Hispanic man who does remodeling work at our house and the few rental properties that my dad owns, invited us to come over for authentic Mexican enchiladas. So we drove down to south Oklahoma City, a predominately Hispanic part of town, where Moses lives with his wife, Viviana and their three children. Their house is a quaint two bedroom residence that my dad loaned Moses the money to buy, a priceless investment that has provided us with endless gratitude and an unlimited amount of delicious homemade tamales.

Upon arriving at Moses’ house, he led us to the backyard where about twenty of his friends and neighbors were sitting around a long blue picnic table. Everyone watched while Viviana cooked chicken and enchiladas on what looked like a giant paella dish that had been hooked up to a propane tank. The kids swam in a giant inflatable pool while the adults laughed and talked amongst themselves. Between conversations, I sat and thought to myself that within being there for an hour, I knew these people better than I knew my own neighbors. Of course we smile and wave when we pass each other pulling out of the driveway, but we hardly ever get past a courteous “How are you?” This made me wonder, why are these neighbors like family, yet my own are like strangers to me?

Many options crossed my mind, but the one that stood out to me was the idea that money crushes community. The neighborhood I live in is a predominately white, upper-middle class community, while Moses and his family live in a Hispanic, lower-class part of town. Some of my wealthier friends have so much land that they don’t even have neighbors. I’ve heard stories of my parents growing up, ruling the streets with the rest of the neighborhood kids, nobody locked their doors and everyone was welcome to walk in a grab a coke from the fridge. Nowadays, in order to walk into a friend’s house it is often necessary to know their gate code, their alarm code, and many times an invitation is needed to get past the gate guard of the neighborhood. This seems odd to me, especially because the neighborhoods that would be considered safer are the ones lacking the roaming children, and vice versa. It seems like the more money we have, the more closed off we become to our communities.

It seems a bit ironic to me that many people pay for isolation, but I suppose on the flipside this would be considered paying for privacy. I guess it is a matter of opinion and personal preference whether or not one wants to be an active member of a community, but I’ve always pictured my children as the ones riding around the neighborhood on their bikes with a herd of friends behind them.