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There Goes The Neighborhood
August 17, 2008

I grew up in the same house that my parents bought when they were first married.  Mom held onto that house through two marriages, three children, and a grandchild.  When we were little, my sisters and I would ride our bikes down the street to the cul-de-sac and play all day with our friends.  There was no problem with any of us or our neighbors hopping the fences into one another's yards and staying out until the sun went down.  

As we grew into our pre-teen and early teen years, we experienced our first glimpse into the future of our neighborhood.  I had two different bikes stolen from under our carport on two separate occasions.  I later spotted a man riding one of the bikes, a woman's bike none-the-less, down the street outside of our neighborhood.

Shortly thereafter, Krystal and I were home during the first attempted home-invasion at mom's house.  We heard a rattling at the rarely-used front door.  We eased closer to listen.  There came a loud bang as the would-be-intruder tried to get the door opened.  Krystal and I screamed a piercing cry of sheer terror.  The intruder ran off, said the police a while later, but dropped the razor blade that he'd used to try and open the door.

After my I moved out of Mom's house with my daughter, the break-in attempts averaged one per week.  Neither of my sisters would even sit alone in a room.  The straw that broke the camel's back, though, happened one night while everyone was home.  Earlier in the evening, the window of Krystal's car had been broken out in the driveway.  As Mom, Krystal, and Lindsay sat watching television in the living room, someone tried to break into the carport door... right next to the living room!  There was a large picture window which would not show detail but would show that the lights were on.  You could also hear the television blaring from outside the carport door.  That was it.  I had drawn the line with Mom about my daughter, Kailey, coming over to visit.  Mom had had enough, too.  She sold the house and moved to a lovely, quiet neighborhood.  

All of us had held onto our home with everything we had.  That house was a part of each of us and held every precious memory of childhood, life, and love.  To say that losing that house was a nostalgic catastrophe would be an understatement.  That house represented everything we had come to love and remember.  I still have dreams about the house itself but will never miss the neighborhood.

Mom's new house is much nicer than the old house.  It has more space, tile floors, a granite bar, an in-ground pool complete with slide, three ponds, a bath house, a porch, a patio, and exquisite gardens.  It will never be the old house but sometimes change is for the better.  

And just because YOUR house is good, wholesome, and ethical does not mean that your neighbors' houses are.  The value of your home will depend on those who are affiliated with it... your neighborhood.  There will always be those neighbors that you'll miss but who says you can't still be friends?  Maybe they'll follow you to a better, less corrupt neighborhood.  

My philosophy is this. No matter how long you've been in the neighborhood, once it's headed downhill and you realize that it is not going to turn around and head in a positive direction, get out.  I definitely think it's what is best for the family.  Now I just have to use this illustration to convince Mom that this philosophy is applicable in business.

Posted by Kelly Nelson on August 17, 2008 | Comments (2)