This weekend was the birthday of my neighbor and casual acquaintance
across the alley. She hired a DJ, set up shelters, arranged tables and chairs,
prepared the barbeque and warned the neighbors. In fact, she had warned me two
weeks ahead of time that it would be a noisy party, since I have been known to
ask not only her, but other neighbors, to turn down the volume. I just nodded
and wondered at her thinking. Was she telling me to get in the car and leave if
I couldn’t handle it? Should I imbibe strong drink? Should I spend the perfect
sunny day with my windows closed in the basement wearing ear plugs?
Sure enough, on Saturday morning guests began arriving and
the small yard prepared. I was filled with dread for I knew I was about to be
assaulted. Psychically assaulted, which for me differs little from a physical
attack. Shortly after noon, someone
turned on the radio to high volume. About three
o’clock, I happened to be standing in my driveway when the noise
halted for a few seconds and I shouted over the fence, “Thank you!” False hope
arose within me before a new song started. A few moments later, she appeared
from the alley, looked at me and said, “I warned you.”
As I struggled to understand her logic, she just looked at
me for approval. “It’s my birthday.” I wished her a happy birthday and
shrugged. Neither of us got what we wanted. She turned abruptly and went back
to the party. I weeded the carrots.
Along about five, the DJ arrived with powerful speakers. He
proceeded to communicate via microphone with a group standing no further than a
dozen feet away. After careful consideration, I called the police. A few years
back, our city’s residents had gotten sick and tired of musical psychic
assaults and passed a law forbidding it, complete with hefty fines. Not only
was my neighbor risking a mandated court appearance with a potential fine, but
her privilege of living in her low-rent government duplex.
To make a long story short, it took six hours of phone
calls, two trips by our overworked and understaffed police department and my
signing a formal complaint to finally stop the assault. Immediately after I
signed the complaint, the cop and I stood on my porch. He explained the fine
could be as much as $750 and most judges convict. I knew the hardship this
silly woman would have to endure. I backed down.
After I assured the two cops my intentions were not to punch
the woman, but try to convince her to turned the music down, we went across the
alley and asked for a conference. She agreed. I told her the cop could tear up
the complaint or submit it for processing, which did she prefer? It was in that
moment that she finally understood and complied. I was exhausted, and I think
she was, too.
Is it fair and just to take such measures to protect my
person from this type of assault? I believe so. I only have so many summer
hours in which to enjoy my urban garden. I can’t do anything about the busy
street or the chemicals dropped from the sky. I have been given the tools to
protect my psyche from extreme and unnecessary noise, and I will use them to do
so. The word will spread through the neighborhood that I mean business and
hopefully we will all enjoy a little more peace this summer.
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