The Wrath of the Tempest

Oops!

This all probably began eighteen years ago when David and I moved into our old house and realized quite quickly that our neighbor directly across the street from us was one of those benign oddballs; those quirky eccentrics that most neighborhoods tolerate because they're generally harmless.

Well, our benign oddball (I'll call him Joe) was/is a hoarder. Not only is his little house jam-packed with God knows what but he also keeps three or four junker vehicles loaded up with his stuff. He parks the junkers on different streets around the neighborhood and moves them periodically so the city won't identify them as abandoned. Currently, a bright pink, 1982 or '83 Ford van sits resplendent in front of his property and viewed without difficulty from my study window. Ugh!

Over the past eighteen years, Joe has let the vegetation on his property take over the small lot so that if I look out my front window, all I see is a mess of untended bushes, weeds, Sumac trees and a massively overgrown Silver Maple. You really can't see his house any more. Which, I believe was exactly his intent in letting the vegetation take over. Out of sight, out of mind.

Okay, so far...

Months ago, I told David that I believed our own giant and ancient Silver Maple should be thinned out and cleaned up because I feared that some day, probably with some spring snowfall, one of the huge branches of that wonderful tree would topple right onto our old house; probably right through my study window. David agreed and, just last month and $1200 later, our Silver Maple became healthy, svelte and ready for whatever weather may come our way. And, in Denver, weather is something that can be shockingly, unpredictably severe.

Well, the homeowners who live on either side of Joe have been requesting for some time that he cut down the Sumac weed trees and have his Silver Maple cleaned up and thinned out. Joe puts them off with his bright smile and a promise to get to it as soon as he can. He then climbs into one of his junkers and drives off. (Did I mention that Joe doesn't even live in the house? He just stuffs it full of crap and comes by once a day to check his mail.)

Tuesday, August 10th, at about eight-thirty or nine in the evening a ferocious tempest passed through our neighborhood -- and much of eastern Colorado -- brining rain, hail and winds so intense that, yes, trees were toppled; branches were broken.

Our Silver Maple, our beautiful, lovely Silver Maple weathered the ferocity of the storm without damage. But, guess what happened to Joe's Silver Maple? Or, more precisely, guess what happened to my Lincoln Continental when a huge branch broke off Joe's tree?

The picture is worth a thousand words. My car may be totaled.

When Joe came by to pick up his mail yesterday I told him that I was through considering him to be the benign oddball of the neighborhood. I told him he had become a dangerous nuisance who hadn't bothered to care for his property for eighteen years with the consequence that my Lincoln was destroyed by his neglect.

Joe's the kind of guy who thinks he's an intellectual and speaks softly, always with a smile on his face and a Have a good day ending to every conversation. When I used the word "...fucking..." three or four times, he advised that if we couldn't have a civil conversation, then he wouldn't attempt to discuss the matter with me.

I told him I didn't give a shit about having a civil conversation with him; that the only thing I cared about was for him to begin to take responsibility for his property.

Okay, that's it. Pray for my Lincoln. I loved that car. But, I really don't think it can be fixed.

Bummer!