Won't You Be My Neighbor?

August 14, 2010


The new kid on our block is Edward. He’s sassy, he’s precocious and, like most kids, he’s incredibly enterprising, sniffing out the best offers before committing to anything. And, as one of a handful of black kids in the neighborhood, Edward’s considered a bit exotic to the other kids. I’d be lying if I didn’t say that folks were a bit slow to warm to Edward’s style. And I’d guess that Edward was a bit wary of our pasty white pansies when he first started riding his bike up this way.

Kids are expert at wariness, especially when the topic is the new kid on the block. They’re like dogs in this way, standing aloof, circling a bit, sniffing for clues, wondering what they can learn about each other if they could just get a closer look. Edward reacted to this aloofness with élan and confidence, swaggering around a bit, peppering his comments with the f-bomb, just for effect. And it was quite effective. I think he realized that there was an unspoken expectation among the other kids that he be the personification of hip-hop lifestyle, even if that wasn’t really him.

After all the sniffing and posing was over, after they had chipped away at the last bits of the silly walls they’d constructed, Edward and the others found out that, mostly, they all just liked to ride their bikes and throw the football around. Edward seemed relieved, as though a weight had been lifted and he no longer needed to pretend. His smiles grew wider, his territory grew larger, and his friendships blossomed in the light of his goofy, unfettered presence.

I’ve been told that Edward’s mom had him when she was a young teenager. She works nights and spends most of her day sleeping. Edward is not the only child left to fend for himself. Most neighborhoods have a couple of kids who fit this bill, kids who count on their resilience and a functioning bicycle to locate those folks who’ll tend to them in the absence of a watchful parent.

He’s got a good nose for good folks. I will give him that. And so, lots of people have come to Edward’s rescue this summer. Mary Kay and her kids have opened their home (rules in place) and their yard and their boxes of popsicles to him. The Broxes have had him over for dinner a few times. Others have loaned him their scooters, tossed him some balls, ridden their bikes with him and just plain run around with him until they fell to the ground, happily exhausted and unable to speak.

I’ve grown quite fond of Edward and have actually come to think of him as a rescuer of sorts in this neighborhood story. Who, after all, could not be moved by his charm and his quick wit? Who could not be changed by his dinner-time prayer in which he enthusiastically uttered “I am thankful for people who don’t disrespect me. . . ” ? And who could have guessed that one kid could so quickly figure out how to expand his family enough to cover a five-block radius in a quiet, tree-lined neighborhood in the middle of Lincoln, Nebraska?

Turns out, Edward is a bit of a hero himself.