Help Me, Mr. Rogers

We have lived in this house, in this neighbourhood, in this city,  nearly 31 years. We were so young, our children so young, when we arrived.  Our city was younger too, and our neighbourhood was new.  The road stopped at our house.  Three days after we moved in, the city works dept came to extend it.  As neighbours joined us they brought young families too.   Our neighbourhood, our city in fact, has burgeoned over 30 years. We were once the south end; now we're practically midtown.

Our children have grown up and moved away.  Unfortunately, our original neighbours have all moved away as well.  They saw the writing, the writing we ignored.

 We are walking distance to a university. We now live in the heart of  the new "academia".  Our neighbourhood is overrun with student housing.  Opportunists have bought up all the properties and are making a profit at our expense.  Our property value has been diminished.  Our realtor has informed us that our house would go for a much better price on a different street.  Now that we're at that downsizing twilight, we would hope only to downsize physical space, not equity. 

A couple of Septembers ago, we found a flyer in our mailbox.  A flyer that entreated us to welcome our new young neighbours, as the flood of  students poured into town, to make kids who might be away from home for the first time feel welcome, less intimidated by the experience of being on their own; we were invited to explain the garbage pickup system to them etc.  The flyer came from an office on campus that was charged with student relations.  Nowhere in the flyer was there an acknowledgement of the concerns of the property owner whose whole life has been invested in a home, a home that is now  neighbouring houses that are often illkempt, with flags hanging in windows, beer cups strewn over yards.  Property owners who are often wakened at 3 or 4 a.m. by noisy parties. Who observe that the highest academic calling requires more kegs than textbooks, that the modern scholarly lexicon is peppered with  4-letter words.   Property owners who don't like playing the role of  nasty neighbours who summon the police, and who often wait a long time before there is police action, if there is any at all, as the beleaguered gendarmes prioritize the worst scenarios.

 We have often had friendly overtures from new young neighbours who will come to our door with a phone number because they are planning a party and we are invited to phone if there is a problem.  Then when the problem inevitably arises the phone is not answered because they cannot hear it over the music.  One has to knock at the door and engage in an argument with a drunken host or guest. One such once told us loudly that we were lucky to live in a  university  town because it was supporting the economy.   Sometimes hundreds of "guests" find their way to an advertised "kegger".  I have never seen so many taxies in my life as I have seen on my street on homecoming weekend or after exams.  Students seem to have been advised to make a friendly overture to neighbours, to visit and leave their phone number, and that's the end of it - they seem to think they have no further responsibility after that gesture.   Many seem very naive about what will happen once word gets out that a kegger is planned. 

We do not dislike young people or begrudge them a good time in life.  We have  4 offspring who are now in  adulthood.  They are all university graduates who have experienced that away-from-home lifestyle. ( In  fact, my eldest grandchild is now in university.)  We are both retired teachers who have seen many fine young people go through our doors. I was a secondary school teacher who had many pleasant times with penultimate university students.   It is not pleasant to be thought of as the crabby neighbours who call the police.  We like our house and its convenient location to many amenities.  But it has become very inconvenient to be so well situated to the university.

One sunny spring day, my daughter and I pulled into our driveway.  Next door, there was a festive gathering.  The front lawn had been furnished with kitchen chairs and accessorized by beer cases and guitars.  My daughter quietly observed, and muttered, "Sell in the winter". 

Recently a citizen's letter showed up in the editorials of a local paper - a letter I could've written word for word about the woes of being consumed by a student neighbourhood coup.  Apparently the municipality is somewhat hogtied by provincial initiatives that offer loopholes to landlords. 

Mr Rogers, come and carry me off on your trolley.  It's not a beautiful day in my neighbourhood.