Neighbours, everybody loves good neighbours

Stereotypes are a necessary evil. By placing vast proportions of the population into a few standard characteristics life is made a lot easier; there's no need to consider the infinite differences that exists in and between every person. Women are caring, emotional and enjoy shopping, accountants are middle aged men who listen to Phil Collins and enjoy golf, British people have terrible teeth, drink tea and constantly complain (that's right yeah?). This said, I am very quick to argue against strerotyping seeing them as a cause of a lot of trouble, but this week one was proved to be totally spot on.

We are slowly trying to meet our neighbours and get a feel for the dynamic of the street. On Sunday, Brent was on tea (!) duty and quickly discovered the milk had turned to cottage cheese. So he goes to get more and doesn't come back for an hour. I call to make sure he hasn't been killed (we are in Philly), he's alive and well just got held up because he had just met Frankie, our street's Italian-American Mafioso man about town . Think Godfather, every Al Pacino/Robert DeNiro movie and Soprano episode and you get the stereotype: leader of family who knows everyone in the city, politically connected, legit business and a lot of money. This guy ticked every box.

Brent met him on the street in front of his house (that was two row houses he knocked down and turned in to one huge one, complete with sculpted fountain out front) and start chatting. He discovered that Frankie owned half of the houses on the street (mostly bought for $5000 20 years ago) and was slowly selling them off for a huge profit (one is on the market now for $250 ,000). He asks about our plans and when he hears we want to buy eventually tells Brent that we shouldn't go to real estate agents but come to him with pre-approved money and that he could sort us out. I know alarm bells should ring but at that point I really started to like Frankie. He then continues to list all of his jobs... he works for the city water company, owns a plumbing business, and is the local democratic representative!!!!! This guy has his fingers in every pie going and then some.

Brent eventually makes it to the supermarket which is a five minute walk and Frankie is in the first ailse (having driven) chatting to a woman while holding her baby! He see Brent and calls,

"Hey buddy, you should've told me you were coming, I could've given you a lift. It's Sunday, I'm buying meatballs and macaroni. I am Italian you know."

Obviously this guy might not have any connections to the mob, the stereotype just fits so well, I kinda hope he does!

Love Jem


Listening to: Prince

Considering: if this post could jepordise our potential Frankie friendship....