Tuesday, November 6, 2012

Look down a bit from the nose and you can see where the tree is trying to make a mouth, a yelling mouth.

As I have little of interest to write about today I will fulfill Pearl's wish of more Slav tidbits. I have many different neighbors, the Cookie Lady, the Clampetts, the flower lady, the chorale man, and the Sheriff to name a few. The Slavs moved into the old Al Qaeda house. George, Mr. Al Qaeda, was a real estate agent and was the first on the block to be foreclosed on. The house sat vacant for over a year or two but as the best deal ever it sold to the Newlyweds father. Dad bought the house for the kids. He is Mr. Slav. The kids were in college and not allowed to move into the house until the ink was dry on the marriage license.

It was fall 2009 when we started seeing furniture going into the house. Heavy, dark European style matching sets and the traditional American family castoffs. His and her family contributions to the household. A few weeks later we saw the bridal party taking pictures in the front yard. Typical pictures where you have two different cultures trying to mesh. Mr. Slav was directing, he speaks with a very heavy accent in broken English, somewhat hard to understand.

The newlyweds move in. We move to China. Punkin Head is installed in the family hearth and home and watches the neighborhood. Hey, he grew up here he knows the stories. The newlyweds leave. The house is vacant again. We move home, well I move home, it is now 2012.

Moving vans start arriving at the vacant newlywed house and I recognize the groom and Mr. Slav. Tons of people and 3 or more vehicles move in. There is a ton of excited slavic talk on the deck every morning. There is the groom and his bud re-positioning the vehicles every morning around 5:30.

One day there is a car parked at the end of my driveway when there are many other options available. I am outside thinking this is bad when the Slav parade comes around the corner of the house. I ask, is that your car sitting at the end of my driveway waiting to get T-boned? The Slavs cannot respond as they do not speak the English. They go and get a lady that speaks the English with a heavy Slav accent. She indicates that yes that is their vehicle waiting to get T-boned. They move it and they all smile and wave.

The only one I cannot explain in the Slav house is the black man. He gardens.

It has always been quite common to have foreign workers here in SE Michigan, and sometimes there are short term workers. It is not inconceivable to me that with the low prices here in the Pointes  people would try to use these homes as dormitories for workers. Not to be cynical but we are extremely close to the border crossings, the lake and the river. Many a truck has been found at the crossing with people without papers.

I will never complain about the Slav group home as they are the best neighbors I have had.


  1. I had neighbours who used to park a horse float outside my house. They were police so I did not complain.

  2. I have Sebastiano at the end of the street. From a distance, it looks like they've done a terrific redo on the house. Once you get closer, the workmanship, she not so good. For a while, they definitely housed dozens of cousins (?) from the Old Country.

    They weren't nearly as fun as the now-departed Filipino Half-Way house that did Karaoke on Friday nights on the back porch and hymns on Sunday morning.