The Day I Realized I’m a Busybody
I won’t cop to being a Karen, but I definitely have shades of a Deborah. Karen calls for the cops or a manager; Deborah calls you out for being uncivilized.
Recently I ran into my neighbor Faeon (Fay-on) while walking my dog. She’s lived in my neighborhood since the 50s, when she moved in as a newlywed. She told me her birthday was last week, she’s 90. I met her three years ago when we moved into the neighborhood. She’s adorable, with her brightly colored nylon shirts and matching capris.
She walks every day around the surrounding blocks, pushing her little walker with the seat. If she likes you or thinks your dog is cute, she’ll rummage around the secret drawer under her walker seat and give you a plastic baggie with a set of four notecards made from cut paper she’s made designs with. I cherish those cards. If you get one from me, I picked it out with you in mind. Not just anybody gets those cards. My mom in Texas fell in love with that and has periodically sent envelopes full of paper scraps from her own craft projects. So, mom and Faeon love each other from afar.
When I saw her, Faeon was on her porch about to head out to charge up her car battery by driving around. Like the rest of us, she’s been stuck at home to flatten the curve. My face was covered with sunglasses, a mask and my earbuds were in with my mom chatting away in my ear. I stopped to wave, and we got into this whole big conversation about Faeon’s car, my mom interjecting questions the whole time. After a bit, we said our goodbyes, and I headed back home with the dog. I made an off-hand comment to mom that Faeon made me realize I was turning into a complete busy body.
I’ve always considered myself helpful. I don’t stand by, I rush over to help, I speak up. I’m engaged with my world, but last year I realized I’m on the slippery slope from being engaged to being a full-on busybody. I won’t cop to being a Karen, but I definitely have shades of a Deborah. Karen calls for the cops or a manager; Deborah calls you out for being uncivilized.
Last year, when walking the dog, I saw my neighbor Mary from down the street standing in front of Faeon’s house with a worried look on her face. Mary’s dog is this…