05.06.2006
And Let Us Not Forget: The Ugly
After a torturous and labyrinthine process that left me the gasping victim of passive aggression on one side and passivity on the other, our neighbors ended up cutting down the offending section of our tree last week. While I had never disputed their right to do so, I had frequently questioned the wisdom of slicing a tree in half merely to avoid the indignity of birds pooping in a certain location: if nothing else, the tree and the birds were there first. There is also the matter that the tree shaded our house in the summer, allowing us to keep our electrical bills amazingly low during those steamy months in Baltimore.
I suppose, if nothing else, bird poop is good for hardening hearts and deafening ears, because our neighbors started soliciting bids for the operation. Only when their plans hit a snag did I hear from them again, as the tree trimmers reported that the work could not be done from their yard, only from mine. Would I be so kind as to grant permission?
I was not.
Yes, they had the right to do what they were doing, but I didn’t feel any obligation to help them do it when they knew it was against my wishes. After my refusal, which was kindly worded but firm, they tried to find a contractor who could do the job from their own back yard, but no one could. So they unveiled their secret weapon: my husband. Instead of submitting a second request to me, they contacted him in New York and had him intercede on their behalf.
Let’s just avoid conflict, Rob argued. I don’t want to start a feud.
And so it’s done. The tree is now bizarrely misshapen; instead of waking up to the sight of its branches against the sky, I can now see only the fresh gashes in its trunk. Sun floods into our house where it hasn’t before, heating one room eleven degrees warmer than it was just a day before and causing the second floor to be a blast furnace compared to the third (where there are smaller windows)—unheard of in our open floor plan, in a universe where heat rises.
These are the results of conflict avoidance. I get to suffer, my enjoyment of my home severely diminished forever, while my neighbors get exactly what they wanted, a paltry result in comparison to the harm it’s caused.
The first night after the destruction, Rob tossed and turned, unable to sleep . . . and, it should be noted, not from well-deserved guilt. “Was that streetlight always so bright?” he groused about the nuclear glare that turned night into day.
“Yes, but until today, there was a tree between it and you.”
Something tells me that conflict was not avoided so much as rearranged.
posted by
David at 12:34 PM
I hear you. I am having my entire brick wall at the back of the yard torn out and replaced, and we're adding a return section of brick where the fence I shared with my neighbors once was. This was all well and good and understood by my neighbors, until yesterday, when the husband informed me that the wife was unhappy with the color of the mortar and would I consider putting the fence back up? Hmmmm - my money, my wall, and SHE doesn't like the mortar color?? (too gray she said). The mason was able to lighten the color of the mortar on HER side of the wall and the all is now well, but the stress wasn't worth it.
One of my neighbors did something similar one time.
I in turn pissed on her Toyota Echo one night and then on the tomatoes in her garden a few days later.
Then I felt better.
posted by:
Logan on 05.06.2006 at 4:15 PM
Oh, man. What bunch of jerks. Plant some ailanthus trees just to make their heads explode.
posted by:
Cara on 05.06.2006 at 6:20 PM
Well, believe me, I thought about the consequences that entire night. I know you feel like I undercut you on this, but I felt like our options were 1) fight, possibly up through some sort of lawsuit, or 2) give in to the inevitable. If they had the legal right to trim the tree, then we weren't going to be able to stop them. I know that sounds weak, and I'm not happy with the results either, but I didn't see another option.
But I learned something, and for what it's worth, I now would have done it differently. Of course, it's too late now ... I'm sorry.
posted by: Rob on 05.07.2006 at 11:36 AM
Broadsheet: Waitaminute, doesn't that make you the analog to my neighbors in this tragic tale? I'm not sure who to root for.
Logan: You gave her the gift of erasing some of her karma.
Cara: I would like to plant a magic beanstalk.
Rob: Oh, sweetheart, I didn't post this to chastise you, only as a documentary measure. We have the rest of our lives for me to make you feel guilty in person. Ha ha.
posted by:
David on 05.07.2006 at 12:34 PM
What a beautifully written piece. It's got it all. drama, suspense, conflict, comedy, sex. And the possibility of a sequel written into the ending. It only needs a gratuitous, graphic sex scene, please.
Please address this minor deficiency, and you will be perfect. (If Rob tells you different, don't listen to him.)
love,
DTGITD
posted by:
Daniel on 05.07.2006 at 3:21 PM
While the post itself was moving, your reply to your DH's comment actually made me laugh so suddenly that I spit on my monitor. That dry little "Ha ha," at the end, OMG, it murdered me.
Must be from reading too much Vonnegut over the years.
posted by:
goblinbox on 05.08.2006 at 3:18 PM
Goblinbox: Perhaps you'd better wipe off your monitor. Ha ha.
posted by:
David on 05.08.2006 at 8:16 PM
Can you plant something else to shade the house? Perhaps something with very large, sharp thorns?
posted by:
adam875 on 05.12.2006 at 2:01 PM
Your neighbor was nicer than my former neighbor. She decided that my crab apple tree was dropping too many apples on her lawn so without even asking she had the foliage sprayed (from her side of the fence) and the entire tree died. Soon thereafter her live-in-the-next state children came and put her in alcohol rehab and sold her house. We did not miss her.
posted by: OHodg on 06.18.2006 at 8:16 PM
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