Boy, am I ticked
First off, my children like school.
My daughter’s teachers do not include any drill sergeants, bored tenured bodies waiting for retirement, or anti-socials who barely put up with kids. My daughter’s classmates have not shown themselves to be bullies, rich snobs, convicts under the age of 18, or drugged-out weirdos. The lunches are fine, the classes are relevant, and the homework is not just busy-work to be thrown away.
Second, I know my neighbors.
I actually know their names and have talked with them. A tuna casserole, home-made cookies, and garden vegetables have all been offered as welcoming gifts. I actually trust my neighbors to not have to inspect the food for “bad things”. I believe that if something happened that concerned my kids, they would tell me before the police had to; and they would do it with concern rather than viciousness. I was asked to help run the chain at the football jamboree. I said that I had never done that before. No one said, “How old are you and you don’t know how to do that?” No one said, “Gee, forget it then.” No one said, “Weird, don’t you know anything about football?” Instead they taught me. It was actually easy, fun, and I felt I just might fit in. By the way, I like football. I just have never moved the chain before.
The phone is for me … by name rather than my duties. The caller is just filling me in on a change of plan that has nothing to do with my job. Neat.
Policemen actually shake my hand, and they are off duty. Police officers are real people, too?
Someone offers me a “drink” and I feel that they would not be offended if I said I was a tea-totaler, a member of AA, or if I offered to buy the next round.
Kids are safely playing kickball in the street. I did that when I was ... well, a long time ago. I am not scared of them getting hurt or disappearing.
Boy, am I ticked.
Why didn’t I move here twenty years ago?