Sunday, January 16, 2011

Cul de Sac Crazy - Being 60 (week 37 - by Margaret Ullrich)

Sorry I missed a week.
It's been a bit crazy here.
Trust me.
No, I wasn't just playing with makeup for 2 weeks.


I'm just as hooked on the comings and goings of celebrities as the next person.  I watch ET.  I read a couple of chapters of Candace Bushnell's One Fifth Avenue before I go to sleep. 

But the celebs and Manhattanites have nothing on what's been going on in a once quiet little cul de sac right here in Winnipeg.

Think Kelsey Grammer's divorce is a mess?  
Think Sandra Bullock was blindsided?
Nah-ugh. 


Last Halloween our neighbor, let's call him A, left his companion, let's call him B.  
No word to anyone in the cul de sac.
Just left.


A little backgrounding: A had bought the house about 25 years ago.  B had moved in about 10 years ago.  B, similar to Monty Woolley's character in The Man Who Came to Dinner, wanted to be kept in a certain lifestyle, sans work, either paid or domestic.  
A let him.


We were wondering why we hadn't seen A for a while.  But we hoped it was a simple family matter, helping a relative, yadda, yadda, yadda.

In mid-December B popped in while we were trying to get ready for the holidays.  First he said A was missing.  We suggested calling the police.  No need to.  Police were already involved.  A had gotten a peace bond against B, who had been told to vacate the premises.  B had changed the locks.  
Oh.

B also was hoping we'd escort him to our church for some fellowship.  A Christmas dinner, perhaps?
No.

Lips quivering, B said he would leave a few days before Christmas, so A could have Christmas in his own home and invite his widowed Mom.
Ah.

B then went on to talk about his heroes, the Branch Davidians, who had caused a ruckus a few years ago.  B is from Texas and likes guns and the "circle the wagons" approach.
Oy.


Okay... B, not A, is still in the house.
No sign of A.

On January 13, at 8:30 pm, we heard some loud thuds coming through our living room wall.  The wall facing A's house.  
The houses in our cul de sac are close.  
About enough space to squeeze a car between them.
I looked out the window.
The snow on A's front lawn had been disturbed.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw the snub nose of B's truck.
He had backed it, wedged it, between our houses, so that it now blocks his door.
It makes quite a barricade.
The next day the mail carrier passed the house, the other neighbors shook their heads.

Oy.

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