March 25, 2010
Dear Everyone:
Our brother, “Richard”, was “in the neighborhood”
earlier this week. He was on
a business trip, with a meeting in
Sacramento on Monday.
He had a similar meeting scheduled in
San Jose for Tuesday
morning. So he decided to
let the commute traffic die down a bit and invited “Jeannie” and me to
join him for dinner at “a Chinese restaurant” of our choosing.
We decided to have “Richard” come to my place (he
had been there before, last May when we painted the
townhouse, getting
it ready to sell.) I sent
him an email, which went to his phone, with directions.
“Jeannie” drove down from her place and we met around 5:30 Monday
evening. We went to the same
Chinese restaurant where we had had
Christmas Eve dinner with
“Marshall”. It’s only a few
“blocks” from my place.
We had a decidedly delicious dinner, then went back
to my place to watch some of the many amusing videos that “Richard” has
collected on his laptop.
Then “Jeannie” went home and “Richard” went to his hotel in San Jose.
He sent me an email, presumably from his phone, that he had found
his hotel later the same evening.
In other news…
I now live in what’s called a “Gated Community”,
meaning you have to get through a gate with your car.
If you’re a visitor, like “Richard”, you check in with the
“Welcome Center.” (It’s not
a “gatehouse”, it’s a “Welcome Center.”)
You give the “Privacy Officer” the address you’re going to visit
and your last name. (They’re
not “security guards”, they’re “Privacy Officers”.)
The Privacy Officer looks the address up on the computer.
If your name is on the list, they let you through.
If not, they will make an effort to call the person you’re trying
to visit to get clearance.
If you are a resident, you have a remote that opens
the residents’ gate. There
is a prominent sign posted, stating that only one car may enter at a
time. This is to prevent
someone from piggybacking in after your car.
I have discovered that there is a form of “gateway etiquette” in
place.
You use your remote to open the gate.
You drive through, then pause where you can see the gate in your
left side view mirror. As
soon as the gate begins to descend, you can proceed.
Even if there is another car behind yours, you know that the
driver must have a remote to follow you.
The gate doesn’t have to come all the way down, just enough to
assure you that the next driver is a legitimate resident.
Every now and then, you encounter someone who
doesn’t care about the etiquette.
This person hits their remote right after you press yours.
The gate stays up and they honk at you if you pause.
They are impatient people and are usually driving an AHM.
“AHM” is short for “A—hole Mobile”.
This is a variety of vehicle comprised of, but not exclusive to,
large pickup trucks and high-end (usually leased) luxury cars.
The drivers of these expensive toys frequently consider
themselves entitled to bad behavior because they spend so much money on
transportation.
I want to point out that they are in the minority
in my neighborhood. They’re
just annoying. Most of the
people who live and work around my home are absolutely lovely.
One Saturday afternoon, as I was returning from somewhere, I
noticed a woman sitting on the curb outside, talking to someone on her
cell phone. She was waiting
for a taxicab to pick her up and wondering why it hadn’t arrived yet.
(I thought, “Did you remember to call the ‘Welcome
Center’ and tell them you were expecting a cab?”)
By the time I had opened my mailbox, a man on his balcony was
engaged in conversation with the woman.
She had taken her car in for some kind of service and now needed
a ride back to the car shop.
Hence the need for a taxi.
He promptly volunteered to drive her there.
Another time, I had lifted the hood of my car to
fill the windshield washer reservoir.
As soon as he saw the hood up, one of the workman loped over to
ask if I needed any help.
Assured that it was only the reservoir, he expressed his confidence that
I could handle that much on my own and went back to his job.
All these lovely people more than make up for the
occasional rudeness.
Love, as always,
Pete
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