My partner and I live in a neighborhood in the sprawling Maryland suburbs just north and west of Washington, DC. The residents of our neighborhood reflect a rich diversity of the part of the county where we live. There are people of many nationalities from 12 different countries who have various religious faiths (or none at all), some young families with children, some retirees, and of every race. As far as I know, we are the only gay couple.
We get along well with the neighbors. I often help out our elderly next-door neighbors with various home repair fix-it jobs, and my Korean neighbors on the other side figure out some of the nuances of American life. The disabled neighbors across the street who own nine dogs require a lot of help — so I help to the degree that I can.
I served as President of our Homeowner’s Association for way too long, but was happy to turn over the reigns of that position a few years ago, though I still maintain a hand in Association affairs by serving as webmaster of the Association’s website. (Go figure… me, a webmaster — LOL!)
One may wonder, then, is our life any different from any others? That is, does it matter that we’re gay?
No, not at all. Perhaps there are no issues because, as my partner says, “we were here first” or perhaps because I developed the neighborhood, sold the lots that our neighbors had houses built on, and ran the HOA skillfully for a decade. Perhaps it was because I was elected to a regional position and served from 2006 to 2010 — my neighbors were proud to say, “our neighbor is that guy who serves this region” — calmly and pragmatically.
As is typical of suburban sprawling neighborhoods, I don’t see my neighbors very much. An occasional wave as they or I drive down the street, exchange of smiles when buddies show up on their loud Harleys to go riding with me, or sidewalk visits when parents walk their little ones to the end of the cul-de-sac where we live to provide a safe and non-hazardous place for their kids to learn to ride a bicycle or skateboard to their heart’s content.
On Thanksgiving, my neighbors help us when we host our pot-luck event for some 100+ seniors by allowing us to use their driveways for additional parking, and when the next-door neighbor lets me use their refrigerator for “our” food while I am preparing turkeys the day before and keep the meat cool overnight ’til warmed for the first shift of visitors on TG day. Neighbors also let me borrow folding tables and chairs — so needed for this event! In turn, when my neighbors host parties, they borrow things from us. We help each other out. Simple, casual, calm.
Any drama that “those guys are gay” and … whatever? No. Period. We don’t “do drama”, instigate drama, or bear the brunt of other’s drama. We keep a low profile, be a good neighbor, and enjoy our home, yard, and peace. As it should be.
We live by the Golden Rule — do unto others as you would have others do unto you. It works.
It’s nice to live in a richly diverse neighborhood, wider community, and county that appreciates a rich culture of diversity. However you name it, we like it. It’s comfortable and most of all — home.
Life is short: value your neighbors.
