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There was my buddy Alner, on his front porch, studying the stuff he’d pulled from his mailbox like it was the Dead Sea scrolls and not even noticing my friendly wave at him.
What really irked me, though, was the way he just blew off the couple getting out of their car across the street when they offered him a thumbs-up.
“Alner, old pal,” I said, striding up to him. “We have to talk.”
“Talk?” he said, shoving a paper at me. “Talk? Look at this – my cost of heating has gone up again. When will all this end?”
My grin must have been a dead giveaway. Clutching his torn envelope and crying “no, no,”, he lunged for his front door, but I was too quick for him. Within seconds, thanks to my power of metaphysical travel, we were standing on the sidewalk in a Wyoming Valley neighborhood of times past.”
“I guess I’ll never learn,” he said resignedly. “What’s up today?”
“Actually,” I said, “it’s what’s going to be up. Do you have any idea what next Saturday is?”
“Why, is there a good game on?” he said.
I sighed, but kept my composure. “Old buddy, next Saturday is National Good Neighbor Day.”
“Darn, I was thinking it was National Shaving Cream Day.”
“The contestants on ‘America’s Got Talent’ have nothing to fear from you,” I said. “Pay attention. It’s a day established in 1978 to promote neighborliness.”
“I’m not neighborly?”
“Without naming names, let me say that we could all stand some improvement. Take a look at those young kids going from door to door down the street. They’re rounding up their buddies to play baseball. And notice that they’re talking to each other, not carrying some personal gizmo and staring at it.”
“I remember playing,” he said. “Yeah, that was fun.”
“In a couple of hours their parents will be getting together at one of the houses to have a nice evening of cards or listening to the radio or maybe just conversing over coffee.”
“So, everything was better back here?”
“Not necessarily,” I said. “But there might be a few things we can learn. It used to be standard to make friends with the folks who lived around you. You’d go over and introduce yourself. Today, the family next door to you could be space aliens and you wouldn’t know it.”
“Yeah, I kind of see what you mean,” he said. “But we’re all so busy rushing around, and…”
I cut him off. “Excuses!” I said. “People years ago worked longer hours than we do, and they found time to chat. In fact, they made time. If you spotted someone you knew in a store, you’d go over and ask about their day. Look at those teenagers heading down to the soda fountain or dance hall to hang out with their buddies. They’re not sitting at home.”
“So, what’s the solution for us?” Alner asked.
“Nothing radical,” I said. “When you read that National Good Neighbor Day is coming up, use that as a spur to be a little friendlier.”
At that, I brought us back to our own time.
“Oh, no,” he cried. “I dropped my utility bill back there.”
“You’ll get another one – don’t worry.”
“Well, I guess I made one contribution to neighborliness already.”
“How so?”
“Those folks way back will probably laugh like hyenas over a bill bigger than their weekly pay.”
“Alner, let’s have a neighborly talk about energy-efficient windows.”