Not to brag, but I live on the best street in Portland, possibly the world for good neighbors. I think my street ought to challenge Buffalo for its motto. But, we do have our share of people that pass through or live near our street that deserve to be put on this thread:
1. At the end of the block on the cross street is a car junkyard full of rusting car bodies from the 1950s and before. I wish there were some way I could complain about the sight of this facility, because it brings down my property value and I hate it.
2. Before he got evicted, there was a single father renting the house at the end of my block. He was an outgoing guy with a big personality and he lived for his cruiser motorcycle. He would "fix" it all day and all night, constantly revving the motor and testing his work by riding the bike up and down the sidewalks. He would also hoot and holler at every lady that passed by. I myself got proposed to and offered to run away with on numerous occasions. "When you get tired of that old man you've got, give me a holler." By the way, he's 15 years older than my husband at least.
3. Then there's the troop of homeless people who wander the streets of this specific neighborhood all day and all night. My roommate calls them "The St. Johns Allstars." (We live in St. Johns). They're all drunks and constantly begging for booze money and stealing stuff off our yards. There are two old men who are brothers with long, graying red hair. They sleep under the awnings of the closed down businesses on main street. The lady with the aggressive dog, who talks to herself and sleeps (from what I can tell) in the parks and spends her days in the bars. The old black man in the wheelchair who doesn't use his hands to push himself. He uses his feet to scoot his chair across the world. If you offer to help him, he asks you for booze money.
4. Mr. Goddammit, as I call him. Now, I don't normally use bad words, but this is his favorite word to shout at the heavens as he has his fits at night. He lives in a house in this neighborhood and from all neighbor accounts, he is schizophrenic and has Tourette's. Somebody takes care of him, because his clothes are always washed, but he's not very well supervised. He's over six feet tall, skinny and gangly, and he has a Charlie Manson beard and long hair. He lopes up and down our streets rambling nonsense at people (sometimes scary nonsense). Once, he was screaming at me from several blocks behind to "get the hell out." He goes to the local shops and rambles at cashiers, the same nonsensical phrases repeated until he gets bored and moves on. Once, it was "Jewelry under tree Robin Williams in a gay movie" over and over again. He goes to the pay phone in the neighborhood square and talks into it for what's probably hours, but I've never seen him dial, so I think he just thinks he's to someone.
1. At the end of the block on the cross street is a car junkyard full of rusting car bodies from the 1950s and before. I wish there were some way I could complain about the sight of this facility, because it brings down my property value and I hate it.
2. Before he got evicted, there was a single father renting the house at the end of my block. He was an outgoing guy with a big personality and he lived for his cruiser motorcycle. He would "fix" it all day and all night, constantly revving the motor and testing his work by riding the bike up and down the sidewalks. He would also hoot and holler at every lady that passed by. I myself got proposed to and offered to run away with on numerous occasions. "When you get tired of that old man you've got, give me a holler." By the way, he's 15 years older than my husband at least.
3. Then there's the troop of homeless people who wander the streets of this specific neighborhood all day and all night. My roommate calls them "The St. Johns Allstars." (We live in St. Johns). They're all drunks and constantly begging for booze money and stealing stuff off our yards. There are two old men who are brothers with long, graying red hair. They sleep under the awnings of the closed down businesses on main street. The lady with the aggressive dog, who talks to herself and sleeps (from what I can tell) in the parks and spends her days in the bars. The old black man in the wheelchair who doesn't use his hands to push himself. He uses his feet to scoot his chair across the world. If you offer to help him, he asks you for booze money.
4. Mr. Goddammit, as I call him. Now, I don't normally use bad words, but this is his favorite word to shout at the heavens as he has his fits at night. He lives in a house in this neighborhood and from all neighbor accounts, he is schizophrenic and has Tourette's. Somebody takes care of him, because his clothes are always washed, but he's not very well supervised. He's over six feet tall, skinny and gangly, and he has a Charlie Manson beard and long hair. He lopes up and down our streets rambling nonsense at people (sometimes scary nonsense). Once, he was screaming at me from several blocks behind to "get the hell out." He goes to the local shops and rambles at cashiers, the same nonsensical phrases repeated until he gets bored and moves on. Once, it was "Jewelry under tree Robin Williams in a gay movie" over and over again. He goes to the pay phone in the neighborhood square and talks into it for what's probably hours, but I've never seen him dial, so I think he just thinks he's to someone.
