The Lilac Thief: Tales from the Strangerhood

Lilacs
Flickr photo originally uploaded 7 May 2007
By Canonitis

 I suppose all the world knows about Susan Orlean's non-fiction book, The Orchid Thief… or more properly: The Orchid Thief: A True Story of Beauty and Obsession.^[1] 

I'm thinking about writing my own book about something that happened to me this morning.  Working title: The Lilac Thief: A True Story of a Skinny Lady in a Sweat-Suit, a Minivan and  Getting the Bird.

How does that title grab you?

The Beauty of Lilac
Flickr photo originally uploaded 5 May 2007

By dkhlucy

Here's what happened:

A misty sunrise spilled over the wetlands of Northeastern, Illinois.  The chill of winter had not departed entirely and so when a bald man awoke early to enjoy the quiet, as was his custom, he was cold and made his way to the kitchen for something warm.

OK… enough of that…

I live in a house with windows everywhere.  I woke up at about 5 am and walked across the living space to the kitchen.  The dogs were still snoring.  It was cold.

Along the way to the kitchen (and to my morning visit to Quito) I noticed a blue minivan parked on my front lawn and a skinny lady in a sweat suit standing next to it… with scissors… cutting all the blossoms and buds off my Lilac and gathering them into a bouquet.  She was smiling and happy, having a delightful morning in my garden.

I thought I was still dreaming.

I stood there in my ratty black-watch flannel nightshirt (the same flannel nightshirt in which I've been sleeping for over a decade).  Stunned.  I wasn't angry.  I wasn't anything… except a little stunned.

About this time the dogs noticed that I was awake and stretched out of the bedroom yawning and such, half asleep.  It is still cold.  Cocoa spotted the woman and snapped fully awake in an instant, dashing to the window and barking a warning to the rest of the pack.  Cinnamon joined the yapping.  The peace of the morning was shattered.

 At this point, the woman heard the dogs and looked up, in the windows… at me.  I was still standing there wondering what was appropriate… and really wanting to get to Quito but also trying to see if the lady had left me ANY buds at all. 

She had not.  I did not move or change my facial gesture.  I was gaming out all the permutations of what could happen next, and trying to pick the best path.^[2]

At this point she flipped me the bird, hopped in her minivan and spun out, trenching my lawn.

At which point I began my day.

--

 I just can't wait to come across her blog... a "wonderful morning gathering Lilacs." 

I am coming to accept that I am not a member of the same group/species/tribe as everyone around me.  I am growing comfortable in the knowledge that my code of behavior is not the same as anyone I see or meet.^[3]  Not better.^[4]  Not worse.  Just different.^[6] 

---

^[1] In case you don't, Orlean is a journalist who wrote the book based upon her investigation of a group in South Florida who were "poaching" rare orchids in the Fakahatchee Strand State Preserve.  Apparently, the main villain, a certain John Laroche, was a plant dealer trying to find and propagate the rare Ghost Orchid.  Laroche was arrested in 1994.  The book came out in 2000.

If you are interested, take a look at this beautiful site dedicated to the Ghost Orchid.  - back to text

 

^[2] I am ALWAYS getting into trouble regarding how I deal with people.  I cannot tell you how many times I have been asked to have a little meeting about some request or other that I've made… and how I made it.  Apparently I do not know how to coddle people.

I try not to be passive aggressive ever.  Instead, I try to be direct and communicate what I want and why and when.  I always get in trouble when someone doesn't do something they should, or does something they shouldn't.  I ask, "When can you have this done?"  They say "Next Tuesday."  Nothing happens on Tuesday.  Wednesday morning I ask, "How are we doing on that thing."  They say "Whoa… I haven't gotten to it yet." 

So then I'm stuck. 

I pause. 

I ask, "When can I expect it?"  A long tale-of-woe begins.  I interrupt.  "I didn't demand Tuesday.  You told me Tuesday.  I need to know when I might expect this and how I can ensure what you say is true.  How can I be sure that I can count on what you say next?"   

And then it hits the fan - every time - which isn't a problem except that now I have to deal with THAT too.  And more of my life is used up, on nothing.

I've become very cautious about what I do or say.  There are serious costs to the decisions we make.  So… I'm looking at the Lilac Thief wondering how bad my morning is about to get.  -  back to text

 

^[3] For example, I've been working on a painting.

BLUE + GLAZE
Flickr photo originally uploaded January 24, 2007
by The County Clerk

It is rather large and I've been working on it a long time.  At one point I pronounced it "fini" and hung it over my mantle to dry a bit.

I live alone.  No one comes over.  I can hang whatever I want over my mantle.  Damn it.

Anyway, after a month or so, it was dry enough to handle so I took it to the framer, where it is today.  In it's place over the mantle I put a ship, for the time being.  The USS Constitution.  I like it.  I'm Navy and so is Old Ironsides.  She's the oldest commissioned ship afloat in the world.  She's still in the service of the U.S. Navy.  God bless her.  And mine is made out of Walnut and Cherry… over 3 feet tall.

So… Sunday I'm out pulling weeds in my front gardens, close to the street, and a neighbor walks by... baby-stroller-and-all.  He lives essentially across the street.  He's never told me his name though I've told him mine.

"Hello, I'm Hank.  I'm your new neighbor.  I wanted to introduce myself and say hello."

"Hello Hank, welcome to the neighborhood.  What do you do?"

I won't even get into the question (which I find empty and useless as a matter of course).  The proper thing to have done, in my opinion, would have been to introduce himself back.  Am I wrong?

Anyway, I'm on my hands and knees in the garden by the street.  The guy walks behind me and says:

"My wife and I think the ship looks much better than that blue monstrosity of art you had there.  Good job and thank you."

I looked to see who was talking, and to see if he was talking to me.  He was.  I had to think.  What the hell was he talking about?  Where is "there?"  Oh… the mantle. 

"No, No... Thank you."

What else can be said?  -  back to text

 

^[4] Actually, sometimes it is better.  One last tale from the strangerhood:

The only neighbor I know is... well... you be the judge.  And at this moment in time he is not talking to me… which is good.  Here's the story:

When I first moved in here, I set up a table with two glass stopper-jars (bourbon and scotch) (would they be called decanters?), two glasses, an ice bucket and some tongs.  It was a bar of sorts.  It was visible through the window.

One day my neighbor knocked on the door.

"Dude, my wife isn't home yet and I saw those bottles there and I was wondering if I could have a shot."

"What?"

"Just a quick a shot, you know."

"Are you kidding me?  Seriously, is this some kind of joke?"

"You don't have to be that way about it.  I just thought it would be nice to a have drink with my neighbor."

"Oh." (He was serious.)  "If you want a 'shot' - by all means - have a shot."

A mistake.

"What are these?"

"Bourbon and Scotch, what's your poison?"

"Can I have one of each?"

"Really?  Sure."

And it was done.

"Do you have any Kahlua?"

"I don't think so."

"You don't think so?  What does THAT mean?  Can you look?"

"I don't have any."

"I see."   Sidelong glance at me.  "I'll have another bourbon.  You have one too.  Come on."

"I not drinking right now.  I have work to do."

"Ok, then I'll have a couple more and be out of your hair.  Sorry.  Hair.  I mean, I'll be on my way.  That's pretty funny huh?"

"Oh yes… I'm bald… very funny, yes.  Have another and then I have to get back to what I was doing."

"Don't let me be in your way.  I can entertain myself."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Do what you need to do.  Get comfortable.  It is your house after all... hahahaha.  I can help myself."

"I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"Are you serious."

"I'm sorry, but yes.  Finish your shot of course.  But I have to get back to my computer."

 Next day was the same basic thing, but it began with  "Hey, I want to apologize for yesterday."^[5]   He finished my Maker's Mark.  The day after that he came over with his wife. 

"I told my wife about your Scotch, she loves Scotch.  I thought we could all have some shots."

"No thank you."

"No thank you?  What is THAT all about?"

"Look, I don't want to be rude, but I've put the bar away.  Let's leave it like this: let's limit the cocktails to when and if I offer them.  I'm in the middle of something.  I really hope you have a nice evening."

Then the wife chimes in:

"Well that's OK Mr. Fancy Pants, we have wine at home and you can't have any."

And that is the last we've spoken.

Delightful. 

I couldn't make this stuff up.  My life has taken a turn to the seriously bizarre.  -  back to text

 

^[5] It was at this point that he stood in my living room and pronounced the following:

"Midwesterners are the most friendly and warm people in America.  Surely you have noticed it.  It is impossible NOT to notice, right?  It isn't like we are ass-hole Texans.  You know, like that ass-hole in the White-house.  Typical ass-hole Texan.  All those jerks from down there think they are friendly - Texas friendly - but they aren't.  Not like Midwesterners.  I'm so proud to be a Midwesterner it isn't even funny.  By the way, where are you from Hank?"

Texas.

(Now let me clear: I'm not impeaching Midwesterners.  I've been here for years and have met three or four who were positively warm.  They exist.)

-  back to text

 

^[6] The problem is, of course, that I spend too much time alone.   Therefore the only contact I get is skewed by weird interactions with strangers in the strangerhood.  I don't have enough good stuff on the other side of the lever.  There is no balance.  One answer is "get out more."  The other answer is a very tall wall and tinted windows.  The wall and tint are more appealing.  -  back to text

 

Comments

[Pam/Digging]

Oh My Gawd (imagine it drawled out in a Texas twang). Hank, you have moved into the Twilight Zone. All three of those incidents with your neighbors are the most bizarre and hilarious meet-and-greets I've ever heard of.

You simply must write a novel and put it all in there.

[breadchick]

Long time lurker, first time commenter but the stories of your neighbors have caused me to have to break my silence. As a former Midwesterner now living amongst the the stand-offish until they know you and then just a little less stand-offish New Englanders, I am now glad I live where I do. I would start planning that nice wall to match your lovely garden...and paint it blue. Your blog is a bit of civility every day.

[Kathy]

I live in a semi-rural neighborhood and my neighbors don't talk to me. Okay, the next door neighbor will call me up when she's cleaned out her daughter's room to ask me if I want her old junk--I mean, the toys she doesn't play with anymore. The woman on the other side, I met her once, about ten years after I moved in--at a garden tour at another woman's house. What breadchick said about New England applies to rural upstate NY as well.

But seriously, you need to get some curtains, shades, blinds, whatever. Too many people are looking in your windows. That won't stop thieving, though.

[Marcel Cairo]

Hank... please re-read this post. This is your calling. This is your book... " Welcome to the Strangerhood," or some title that Oprah would love.

Please Hank, I'm married with kids and totally undisciplined in my writing, but this is the book I would want to write. My next best thing is to work vicariously through you.

Now go be a novel writer, you lovable, talented freak.

[layanee]

Hank: Right back at you...It is not you, it is them!!! I am still laughing at these very visual images. I would put an APB out on that mini-van! How are the alcoholics doing? I take issue with the New Englanders stand-offishness cracks though as I always hear someones' life story without even asking...well maybe a head nod or two is all it takes. Of course everyone does love Mid-Westerners and rightly so! Oh, one last thing, I love the blue picture! It is like being inside a blue delphinium! Anyone can have ships. Thanks for making me laugh out loud once again!

[Annie in Austin]

Just another Lake County groupie checking in to say yes to all of it:
Hang curtains, although it's a little late since you've already lost your 'mystery';
Get the outline of the novel into a file;
You have a cool blue painting;
Your neighbors are weird.

And crap! Now I feel bad for telling you that a guy with tools, plants, books and a piano would be valued for the treasure that you are. Not, apparently, in your new neighborhood. I had lilacs all over my Illinois front yard, along with lilies, roses, daffodils, tulips, peonies etc. etc. and had no floral thieves. Have things in the Midwest changed so much in eight years?

Annie at the Transplantable Rose

[Carol]

Unbelievable, and she left tire tracks in your grass?! You do live in a strange neighborhood. I am waiting for the book...

I would have ran out and gotten the license plate number, and turned her in!

[Christopher C in Hawaii]

Frankly My Dear, you should have been the one flipping these people the bird.

[Christine (myplateoryours)]

What planet did you move to, anyway? It reminds me why we live OUT IN THE COUNTRY. No neighbors to speak of except deer, wild turkeys, and the occasional stray cow. Lots of land, space and PRIVACY. Good luck to you, my dear.

[entangled]

A-mazing! All of it. Sometimes I wonder if blatant rudeness is now the standard.

I remember a passage from a book - the author observed a dog being "walked" by SUV. The SUV driver was yakking on his cell phone while driving slowly through the neighborhood accompanying his dog so it could crap in the neighbors' yards. Wish I could remember the name of the book.

[Yolanda Elizabet]

Good grief, what a terrible lack of manners! Really quite dreadful. I'm shocked Hank, that you didn't offer this skinny lady more blooms from your garden, some roses perhaps or whatever else is in flower. And you should have offered to cut them for her yourself like a true gent. No wonder she flipped you the bird. What were you thinking of? :-D

[anna maria]

That woman was a horrible witch!
You are way too polite. I would have lost it and run out there cursing.
As for your neighbors, I'm hoping the fourth one makes up for the three weirdos. This is hitting all too close to home, because an incident involving one of my neighbors and my plants left me stomping around yesterday evening, muttering that I wished I lived where I had NO neighbors!
Yesterday morning I looked out my kitchen window and saw my neighbor on one side standing on a stool cutting the tops off of the ivy that grows on my side and sticks up 2 inches above the top of the fence between us. Fine. Until I saw her yank the ivy off my side of the fence and leave it hanging. I stomped down the stairs (I stomp a lot), and said EXCUSE ME please just cut it don't yank it off. She nodded and proceeded to trim. I left for work and when I returned found piles of ivy cuttings strewn around the perimeter of the yard, lying all over the little plants I had just transplanted the day before.
There's a lot to be said for no neighbors at all.
You need a very thorny, tall hedge, a wrought iron gate and curtains. Then let your dogs secure the perimeter. But they're probably just as nice as you :)

[lisa]

Yea...I agree with everyone else:

-your neighbors are rude freaks

-you are WAY nicer than me; I'd be
opening fire on that lilac-stealing
bitch (guess that won't work in the
suburbs)

-next time the alcoholics come over
demanding booze, I'd give them Kahlua
alright...with ex-lax!

-you absolutely must write a book! It
could be titled "Life Isn't Fair and
People Don't Act Right"!

Yea...I don't know how to act around people, either. I expect them to have manners, and obviously that's expecting way too much!

[Terry]

When I was younger I lived in a really marginal neighborhood - all I could afford as a single mom. One year I bought a tiny, weeping camellia for my daughter's sixth birthday (her choice....) The welfare mom next door admired it profusely - and the next morning the camellia was gone. Dug right up out of the ground. Several days went by and then - almost disbelieving my eyes - I spotted the plant in HER yard - right by the front door. I marched over there with my shovel and dug the plant back up, hauled it back to my yard and replanted it. No words were ever exchanged - but she left my plants alone after that.

[bright]

sweet mother of pearl! those are some good ones! speaking as a texan, i find the west coast takes the cake for sheer obliviousness. i lived in new york and i found the east coasters didn't generally have time for manners, but when they did interact they knew how to be pleasant. that suv driver has to be a californian... i had a man back directly into my driver's side door in a parking lot, as i was waiting for the spot two cars down from him. he gets out and declares, "i didn't see you, you were BEHIND us!". the same afternoon, as i'm leaving the same parking lot, a woman stops behind my car with her baby carriage to tie her shoes... engine running and reverse lights on and all. all i can see is the handle of the carriage peeping up over my spoiler. her face when she looked up and realized the car had someone in it was priceless!

[lisa]

Okay...maybe I'd use a "super-soaker" water gun, but I'd still shoot that lilac thief!

[Lisa (Homesick Texan)]

I'm sorry you're living in this bizarro world, but I have to say this post just made my morning. More, more, more! I'm joining the chorus and asking you to please write a book about these rude rubes.

[John B.]

Art imitates life (or vice-versa):

Today's (Wed. the 16th) poem on The Writers' Almanac was called "Stealing Lilacs"

"Writer's Almanac"