I just googled Becca Lilly to see if it has one “L” or two for the son’s post. The top hit was this Washington Post mini-series about the last year or so of her life. I didn’t read through the whole thing, but a good chunk of it. Having to go through something like that, as a parent or a child, is outside the realm of what I can imagine. But as I read the article, I was trying to imagine the Lillys I’ve interacted with. It gave me a new-found not respect, but something like that, for them. (The Lilly’s live kiddy-corner across the street from us. For those of you who didn’t click on the above link, one of their daughters died several years ago after a nasty battle with brain cancer. The nearest children’s park to where we live is named after her.)

Granted, my interactions have been limited: Today, Alexei and I saw Sarah, the youngest child (a high school senior), walking their dog Lady on our way to the park. Occasionally I see Joe in front of his house or visiting with our landlady Joan downstairs. Lady spends the afternoon with Penny, the landlady’s dog regularly. During the summer I stopped by their house and helped Maureen to get all their computers online wirelessly. Come to think of it, I was supposed to go back and help them again, but got real busy and still haven’t found the time.

You know what? Through all of those interactions, I treated them just like normal people. Now that I know a bit more of the inside scoop and what they’ve been through, they are still people, but elevated. For Pete’s sake, they just held the 12th annual Becca’s Run at the beginning of the month. There are many unknowns if I ever found myself in their shoes, but I can tell you one thing for sure, I wouldn’t be having a 5k run every year. That takes some real chutzpa.

In the words of Randy Travis:

Your heroes will help you find good in yourself
Your friends won’t forsake you for somebody else.
They’ll both stand beside you thru thick and thru thin
And that’s how it goes with heroes and friends.

So, that’s on one side of our apartment….now onto the more racier side. Close your eyes and imagine with me for a moment. A red sheer curtain. Low lighting. A first floor bedroom. Non-ugly high school girl. It’s dark outside. Et cetera.

I don’t consider myself a peeping tom, but sometimes things do cross one’s vision….and sometimes one’s wife’s vision notices things crossing your vision and suddenly your vision doesn’t work so well any more.

Like us, the “racier neighbors” rent. It is a mother with her daughter. It seems like they moved in at the beginning of the summer. It just so happened that Anastasia, Alexei, and I went to the National Zoo on Father’s Day and bumped into them there. From all I can tell, they’re perfectly normal people. A single mom with a teenaged daughter can appear rough around the edges and yet be totally grounded.

In summary, I have two neighbors. One is a hero, the other a harlot. The thing I find quite interesting about this post is that if my neighborly vantage point were different, if I knew them more than transiently, I may have been able to paint totally opposite pictures. Is that bad? Good? Does it matter?

For now my feeling is that everybody has things they wish others didn’t know. If suddenly the curtain were opened and everybody knew these sequestered secrets or if industrial strength cardboard permanently covered all window openings to keep the punks out, the person I know would remain the same. My opinion of them may likely change, but they will most likely not.

Read one way, it seems like I’m saying that other people only exist as the reflection I see of them — a very nice and ego-centric view of the universe. Yet when I get up in the morning and ready myself for the day, I’m not really looking at myself, just a reflection in the mirror. Maybe it works the same way in life. That is, as I go about my business others see reflections of the real me. The cumulative image produced by all these reflections is what actually defines me. In other words, I am not who I think I am, but who others see.

This is obviously much more convoluted than I set out to be. My neighbors are cool people. You should come and visit them sometime. Don’t forget your binoculars!

A rather interesting take on how the market works and why it isn’t right now. Although I’m not sure the Alabamian would appreciate his role in the whole thing.

Blow out the candle on your flan, big boy!

The family (plus Tara, minus Dad) took me out to eat at Chappala’s. It seemed like everybody there was having a birthday; I seriously must have heard them come out and sing to three others before me. The clincher was how they spelled happy birthday with the drizzled syrup - Happy Birtday!

I’m still pretty jet-lagged, so as soon as I got home, I headed straight for bed. It appears I’m 28 years old now. Doesn’t feel that much different. Oh well, didn’t expect it to.