Won't You Be My Neighbor

I grew up in a small Kansas community where everyone knew you even if you didn't know them.  Oh you're Steve and Shirley's daughter, I had your sister in my class, I know your cousin, and so it goes.  Not only did I grow up in a community where it was impossible to be anonymous, I also grew up in a community where the term "neighbor" did not just mean the people occupying the houses to the direct left and right of your home.  The term neighbor was inclusive and broad.  It meant the family who just had their third baby two weeks early who lived five blocks away from you.  It meant the family at the end of the block whose father just had a heart attack and the children were too young to shovel the sidewalk when the 8 inches of snow fell over night.  Sometimes, your neighbors also became a part of your family, attending holidays and birthdays, being a part of the everyday life experiences.

Today something happened that spurred this rambling above regarding neighbors.  I have lived in the same apartment complex for several years.  I have seen close to a dozen families or individuals come and go from the apartments on either side of mine.  Currently I do not even know the first names of the people living on either side of my apartment.  Today I came home from work to find a nice little brown and yellow note stuck to my door from the UPS man.  Instantly I was annoyed they had come before 5 again, when I had called the day before to specifically change the delivery time to after 5.  I ripped the note off the door only to find it said my package had been left with my neighbor.  My neighbor.  Who I don't know.  My neighbor, who I don't know, but who I have to listen to through the wall doing very private things.  My neighbor, who I don't know, now has my package I've been waiting two days for.  My neighbor, who I don't know, now had my....Victoria's Secret package.  Thanks UPS guy I was lacking an awkward moment today.