Reflectivesurfaces's Blog

Just the other night, there was something happening in my village in the middle of the night (or the middle of the morning, depending on your point of view) and it involved sirens and lights.  Neighbours roused from their beds and heading to their front windows to see what was the matter and if their help was needed.  All of the street was alert, ready to go, ready to help.  And I slept through it all.

I am a sound sleeper, or at least, I used to be.  That was in the days before kids and married life.  But I can’t blame my ability to dream deeply on this.  I blame my house.  It is an old house and made with a double thick brick.  That brick sucks up outside sound.  It doesn’t keep out the cold winds of winter but it does keep out the sound.

Allenford, once a sleepy little village, had a period of constant excitement in the last decade.  We have had the good fortune to welcome the swat team for a suicide.  We have had drug bust, car accidents, and other bad things.  We have had the firetrucks on several occasions which has left large gaps in the landscape.  Car chases, with three OPP in hot pursuit.  Things that you only see on cop shows on television.  Here.  In my village.  And for the most part, I have missed them all.

Now, don’t get the wrong idea.  I only rarely follow the local firefighters when they are on call.  And maybe an ambulance once or twice.  I am nosy.  I freely admit it.   But when something happens in Allenford, it is the opportunity for all the neighbours to have an impromptu social event.  I like to introduce everyone around and explain who lives where.  A useful community service offered free of charge.  But if I can’t hear the sirens, I won’t know my services are needed.  People will mill around the scene of whatever destruction or mayhem that initially required the emergency assistance and never meet a new friend.  That is a sad thing.

I have lived all my life in this small little village, not counting the university years.  Everyone knows me and I know almost everyone.  As a child, it was necessary for everyone to know my name to yell at me to get off their lawns, or to get off the ice, or get out of that tree.  As I got older, they needed to know my name to know where to send me home when I strayed too long or too late to a backyard social.  Now they need to know in order to talk to me about my kids, my husband or my many animals.  The point is….they can refer to me by name.  And I can share that knowledge by introducing them to others who call this village home and they too, have had to learn my name.  Winnng situation.

But my house is preventing that important life work.  I have no idea how to fix this situation and maybe that is for the best.  After a while someone is going to figure out what is the common denominator at all this destruction…me!