NEIGHBORS IN BELLBROOK, OHIO

My wife grew up in Indianola, Mississippi, which is a very small town at that time with a well defined downtown where southern hospitability, friendliness, and sociability are the trademarks of the residents. The highlight of the day was the short distance walk to the downtown to gossip, chat, and talk about all problems associated with farming the fields and raising catfish. Talking about weather is always the central issue of many conversations because farming cotton, corn, and soy beans depends on the rainfall before irrigation networks became common. In that respect, my wife was obsessed by living in a small town with a decent and clean downtown where everybody knew and used to everybody else. In my case, I grew up in Bani Na’im, Palestine, a small town at that time, where the rumors, tittle-tattle, and chitchats are essential parts of life. Most of the inhabitants are related and they speak with a distinct accent different than the surrounding towns. The origin of many of the spoken words goes back to ancient Arabic language as if the town is suspended in time for centuries. Thus, living in a small town is something engraved into our bones and it suited both of us.

After finishing my graduate program and going through a postdoctoral training, I was offered a job in Ohio to work as an Electronic Engineer at the Air force Research Laboratory in Dayton. After a year of work, my wife suggested the time is right to purchase a house, settled down, and raise children. I agreed and both decided to search for an affordable house with two garage door openers just like any middle class American family. After several rounds of driving sessions to check various towns and suburbs around Dayton, we decided to settle in Bellbrook and call it hometown. Part of the reason for our decision is that the small town environment appeared to satisfy my wife’s desire to live in a small town more or less like Indianola. Bellbrook has small well defined downtown with an ice cream shack, small library (Winters library, named after Winters family), hardware store named Penewitt (no longer in business), grocery store (Dots Market), several offices housing medical doctors and lawyers, and a few restaurants. The town itself was established in 1814 and consists of many old and contemporary buildings. Like any other towns in USA, new subdivisions with fashionable structures were built around the perimeter of the town while we were living in Bellbrook. The approximately seven thousand inhabitants are about 98% white and as far as I knew I was the first Palestinian to live in there.

On the surface, Bellbrook appeared to be an ideal place for us to live because it resembles both Indianola and Bani Na’im, but with time we came to the conclusion that our choice was unwise due to many unpleasant moments. For instance, my wife’s repeated request to join the local garden club was rejected even though she was educated and trained in Horticulture. Instead, she joined a garden club in a nearby town (Beavercreek). A “tree committee” is formed by the mayor of Bellbrook to oversee the type of trees and their planting locations around the town. My wife was rejected as a member of this committee. Since then we came up with so many ideas for the qualification of the Mayor. One of them is that in order to have your name on the ballot, you need to prove that education has no effect on you. Or the candidate should prove that he/she has no college education or even a high school diploma.

Soccer, which is derived from association football and also known in the rest of the world as football, is the pastime for kids and parents alike in Bellbrook. The game is taken so seriously such that children were traumatized by parents to excel in a game that was not even known a few years back. The soccer moms did walk in the streets very proudly and everybody pointed their fingers at them as being so special. Since I came from the old country, I knew the rules of how to play soccer because it was the only game that we knew at that time. Because of my knowledge of these rules, I was proudly selected to coach a soccer team of girls since one of my daughters showed an interest in the game. It was quite an experience to watch young girls play soccer and the parents cheering on the sideline. The first rule that I learnt from coaching girls is that “ do not yell at them .” If you do, they would not follow instructions or listen any more. Several times I noted about half of the team was chasing the ball aimlessly, and the other half were socializing in the middle of the field. They were plotting plans on how to spend the night together; collecting daisies, dandelions, and butter-cups; and making summersault or rolling themselves in fetal positions. Parents on the other hand, kept screaming and yelling throughout the game. Some of the parents are specialized in yelling and shouting at the coaches for one reason or another. The most common complaint from the parents is that their kids did not play longer time or good enough.

On one team I coached, I had a girl who was purposely avoiding touching the ball. She simply ran away from the ball if it was kicked toward her. Her parents had some sort of sense of humor and they always joked to me about how she played. No matter how hard I encourage that girl during practices to come in contact with the ball, she simply will not do it during the game. On the last game of the season, the ball was kicked so hard toward that kid that her reaction time was much slower than the approaching ball. The ball came straight to her foot and it looked like she punted it several yards away. The whole team and all parents start cheering so loud that she was scared to death. After the game was finished, the parents of that kid invited the whole team to the ice cream shack located in downtown Bellbrook. That was the excitement of the season if not the whole career of mine as a soccer coach.

Mowing the grass around the house is part of the American middle class activities. Starting in every Spring of the year neighbors come out with their grass mowing machines and one can hear the roaring, boisterous, and rowdy machine from morning until evening especially during the weekend days. The transition from poor, broken, and penniless graduate student to a middle class American was not easy on me partly because I did not know how to act like one. Mowing the yard was one of the most awkward events during this transition. However, it was the most fascinating, educating, and enriching experience at that time. I noted that neighbors did no talk to each other while they were mowing. It turns out they do not talk at all before, during, or after mowing the grass. In my case, I noted the neighbors are always mowing the grass at the far end of the yard from me. If I started mowing the grass in the front of the house the neighbors would start at the back of their house and so on. That was a very peculiar habit. I had a neighbor who I enjoyed traumatizing and disturbing. I usually waited until he started mowing his yard, then I would start mowing my yard at the closest point to him. He would turn his mower off, walk away, and come back only after I move away from him. In many occasions, I saw him moving away just when I look toward his direction. Many time I greeted him by saying “ good morning ,” “ good afternoon ,” “ have a nice day ,” or “this is a good day .” But he never replied and just turned his back to me. I tried other neighbors on the other side of my house and it was the same result. Those neighbors would not talk to me. Their wives however, were a little friendlier. They went a long way with too much effort just to look at me and say “ hi .” They never say hello or anything else as they were weighing how much effort to put on saying a single two letters word. Across the street from us, we had a neighbor who used to put notes in our mail box on how to get our cat on a leash and walk her outside. One early morning I heard a bang outside and when I looked I saw him with a revolver in his hand. I found out after further inspection that he shot a skunk in his front yard. My wife would not believe my stories about our neighbors.

Coaching soccer was more or less an excuse for me to meet other peoples in the village of Bellbrook more so than the pleasure of teaching young children a new skill. The parents however talked to me only when they are upset or yelling at something during the games. Children always ran to me and gave hugs every time I saw them at grocery stores, festivals, or any other places. On the other hand, the parents avoided eye contact with me. On several occasions, I noted the parents instructed their kids not to talk to strangers. At that time, my wife started believing in my stories. These events however were a source of amusement to me. I thought having this kind of power where I could offend someone by just being there without saying a word would be an enormous trait. I imaged myself back in the Middle East offending people just by looking at them. With this power, I told myself, I could defeat armies and conquer countries.

Another comical thing happened to us in Bellbrook was our family doctor decided to have a partner. This partner was short and chubby young female doctor who just finished her residency. She was so wacky and obnoxious to the point we started having a private family jokes about her. She informed us that she always prescribed Dimetapp to her patients. We thought Dimetapp was her remedy to all of our problems. She diagnosed my wife’s disease (multiple sclerosis) as a lyme disease and insisted on treating her with a vigorous antibiotic procedure.

After a few years of observing people in Bellbrook, we noted that a whole group of families moved all together from one neighborhood to another. Whenever one family moved to an upscale subdivision, almost the whole neighborhood would follow them. It appeared to us tie and binding relationships between families in the same neighborhood were very strong to the point that they cannot live apart. These families form their own community within a community, move along as colonies of ants, and did not seem to accept others into their closed circle. It took us a while to figure out this kind of social behavior and during this time I thought something was wrong with my attitude that was offending to others in Bellbrook. At that point I started searching towns and cities to find out the best and worst cities to raise a family. I came upon an article describing Cincinnati and Dayton areas in Ohio. I was astonished to read a statement by the author of the article, which stated “The original people who settled in Cincinnati and Dayton areas were German immigrants. The descendants of these immigrants made all friends they need by the time they finish high school.” This statement explained all of the puzzling behaviors I documented in my head about the people of Bellbrook during my seven years of living there.

At the time of our departure from Bellbrook to Albuquerque, New Mexico, I was packing and boxing our household. My wife looked at me and said. Do you remember that you broke a large mirror as we were stuffing to move to Ohio? I said yes, I remember. Then she added, that was the seven year jinx of breaking a mirror during a move. At that point and for the first time in my life I started to believe in curses and evil eyes. Neighbors however started flocking to our house wishing us good luck on our move out of Bellbrook. It did not make sense to wait seven years for these neighbors to show their emotion and how much they appreciate having us around. A few neighbors even admitted that they were sorry we are leaving Bellbrook. Our question remains: Why were they sorry for? We left Bellbrook and I still believe that there is a little German inside each one of us.

Omar Manasreh
24 June 2008