Throughout my entire 52 years of existence, I’ve resided in the Southeastern PA and South Jersey Region. Of all the (great) places I’ve been fortunate to live, precisely nothing has approached the high strangeness & extraordinary inhabitants of the Churning-Stomach-Of-Chaos place that I live.
“There Goes The Neighborhood” is based on series of events which took place. I will be concealing names and locations for obvious reasons. I will mention whether each story takes place at either our first or second residence.
Buckle up. Facts are often stranger than fiction.
Jason C. Arthur
“I’m using this to trap the fuckers.” Mrs. Have-A-Heart
This takes place at our second residence.
Always follow your gut instincts no matter what. We didn’t and became overwhelmed by the superficial niceties of a potential new house and, as we’ll learn, now have the source material for an entire book.
We were still living at our first house and were actively beginning the search for a new place. Our first house served us well for 15 years but it was time for an upgrade. The instant this new home hit the market, Redfin was still fairly new. That morning, Mrs. A mentioned the new App and texted me the link. She mentioned maybe I could perform a “drive by” to check it out since I was heading in that direction that day. I had my trusty Ford Taurus loaded up with my beloved Scott Scale 29’er on her back and set out for the nice warm weather ride in French Creek State Park.
When I followed the link and arrived at the house, I parked across the street and behind another vehicle which turned out to be a Realtor. There was also a family huddled with the realtor on the neighbor’s front yard across the street which faced the one for sale. I did find it strange that they were not standing on the property of the actual house for sale. However, the For Sale sign wasn’t physically present and I believe that played into this. I eventually came to learn that this particular family also lives nearby and plays an important role in this entire series…
I pulled in, parked behind them, and offered a friendly greeting. Immediately, the family and realtor appeared “collectively annoyed” and glared at me as soon as I exited the vehicle. This, as I’ve come to learn is the Neighborhood Standard Glare (NSG). I naively wondered why all the long faces? The family said nothing while the realtor blurted out:
“What are YOOOU doing here? How do YOOOU know about this?” Realtor
I replied: “REDFIN. My wife sent me a link. Would you like to see it?” JCA
No replies, just glares all around. They whispered amongst themselves. I knew that I wasn’t allowed to walk the property so I walked back and forth on the street for a couple of minutes admiring the property. It’s a Mid-20th Century Modern solid brick masterpiece on about an acre of land in a very Main-Line type of neighborhood. Me Likey…
While I was admiring the place from the road, the realtor proceeded to interrogate me with questions about who I was working with. I told her I would rather not discuss my private business with her. She became overtly rude, forceful, and even went so far as to raise her voice about how I had “better not” set foot on the property without my own realtor. I ignored her annoying quips, turned to leave and said:
“Ill be buying this place then. Have a nice day.” JCA
Truer words were never spoken. Little did I know what I bargained for. Be careful what you wish for, Grasshopper.
We scheduled a showing the next day since the Owners lived out of state and would be showing it that weekend and choosing the winning bid by early that following week. We arrived to find a stunning home and property. As soon as we entered the foyer, the hand cut stone and pristine oak hardwood floors throughout the entire house caused us to lose any sense of inhibition. The place is stunning to say the least. And in its present state in accordance with Mrs. Arthur’s efforts, it could win several Better Home & Garden Awards, IMO.
As we went to walk the property outside, there “appear” three elderly members of the neighborhood who were waiting in the back yard to greet us as we exited the rear of the house. We found this strange, obviously. They were cordial and began to immediately ask about ourselves. We are polite and casually brushed off their questions. They accosted us for several minutes and eventually left us to our business. Mrs. A and I quickly forgot all about them until the day we moved in…
Mrs. A and I had beaten out 4 other bidders. The financial and bidding process was a non-issue. I knew we were good to go there. However, our realtor was unprofessional so the process of selling our previous home was a challenge. I won’t say that we moved in here “without incident” but considering all the challenges presented, we did well enough and got through it.
Enter: Mrs. Have-A-Heart
A bit of time goes by and I’m happily enjoying my new backyard, minding my own business, and grilling a late lunch when Mrs. Have-A-Heart appears from the driveway side of the property. I am friendly and gregarious even in situations like this. I am also a good host. I proceed to offer her something to drink and ask her if she would like to sit. She declines both but begins to ask whether we are enjoying the new house, etc. I say something to the effect that everything seems fine so far. Then she begins to speak openly about whether we will be joining the (local) pool and what we think so far of the other neighbors, etc. I kept it superficial and friendly and mentioned that Mrs. A and I swim at our In-Laws most of the time. I thanked her and thought this was all pretty strange so far. I had no idea just how strange…
I was enjoying a short walk through my new neighborhood several days later when I noticed Mrs. Have-A-Heart at the top of her driveway, in her side yard closest to the rear corner of her house. She was busy and stooped over but still took immediate notice of me walking by. She beckoned me over with her greeting. As I walked up her short driveway to greet her, I noticed that she had her hands down in a 5 Gallon Bucket. She appeared to be “wringing” something out down inside the bucket. I assumed it was full of water and wringing a sponge or wash towel since her car appeared parked very close by. The vehicle actually served to shield her position from the road, in fact.
I couldn’t tell precisely what she had in her hands. My gaze stopped for longer that it should have while I attempted to deterine exactly what she was up to when she said something to the effect:
“These chipmunks have been eating my garden again and can’t get them to stop. I’ve tried shooting them before. Doesn’t work. I’m using this to trap the fuckers.”
I stared in horror at the trap placed out in the middle of her back yard.
She was drowning the chipmunks she caught in a bucket of water using her bare hands.
“And you may find yourself in a beautiful house
With a beautiful wife
And you may ask yourself
Well (how did I get here?), how did I get here?”
Brian Eno, David Byrne, Tina Weymouth, Jerry Harrison, Christopher Frantz
Jason C. Arthur
